it is time my friend
to put my thoughts
on paper...
to write you

what my tongue denies
what my heart screams
in the middle of the night

it is time to speak in
the words etched upon
my bones
to give light to this
seed with in my soul

even as the ink blots the paper
my fears rise, and my courage quivers
to give this entity the substance
of words

is to give it the power
of freedom or destruction
but I am weary, so weary
from carrying its burden
through this long peroid
of gestation, I am beyond
beyond trying to carry
this thing with grace
and have now become
a lumbering leviathan
treading heavily through
each day,not evolving
or creating, just barely exsisting

So, if it be freedom,
there will be relief
if it be destruction
there will be release

No more dallying,
No more delay

You left, You died

leaving us behind
no recompense
no answers
just a ***** room
and unpaid bills
You, You, walked
out of life,

without
finishing the conversation
without
any explanation
without
care for others
without
thought for self

You told us nothing
You hid your hurt
till it was to late
till...it..was..too..too late

And tho
I WILL LOVE YOU
til the end of my days

Now,  I  hate....

I hate you are not here
I hate that I did not see
I hate that you did not ask
I hate the incompleteness
of it all

So my friend, I write
this to you...
then make it into
a paper boat
that I set on
the waters
before
lighting
it afire
in
the hopes
it will
bring
freedom

so the bodohggedies
danced their dance
under the soogothle tree
and in their minds
they sang sigines
of  depopple lines
and made the world
fleaegopple

then the caturnaps
made jackgnondle pies
and recited zungundes
of yeesterways and
told gobnibbittts
imogabble lies
to make them
flabhouter away

and when the great day
of Ubuinaqa was almost done
the teopssangwars
gave chant to the
promise of Gosbingilia
in formal
Datulach ligalibilate
and all Phfidugimea
around sat and listened to
the haquisalical sound,
sighing with
mneuss and saeszfedi

the world winds down slowly tonight
coalescing into one  small house
on the cusp of something
we sit and watch the flickering
of other peoples bad news
and pray it does not become
our own

we keep in constant touch
with each other, the golden boy
sleeps with head in my lap
the father lays his hand
over mine and exerts gentle
reassuring pressure
the tuxedo kitten, sensing
our restless souls, moves from
person to person seeking
to comfort wish his two kilos
of wrinkled scrawniness

it is a time of waiting
and watching the small
screened phones, willing
them to carry positivity

it is a time of  cups
of lukewarm tea
and half eaten food
starting at sounds
and praying
to gods long losr
or forgotten

the night continues
to crawl, toward the day
the phones remain silent
we sleep in fitful dozing
snatches, with the blue glow
of reruns lighting
the huddled of  love

at 4.02 the phones buzz
and we answer,
with trepidation
the news is cautiously good
the surgery complete
the nephew, still with us

we sigh, with gratitude
as the sky begins to lighten

her fingers feathering the dark  magnolia leaves
stroking the foilage like it were a housecat

his fingers wrapped around the taped raquet handle
in a firm yet dexterous grip, waiting to enter the fray

her fingers deep within the loamy soil
communing with the larger whole

his fingers  testing  the grain of the wood
looking for the sweet spot, the soul

her fingers  raised to lips, creating  a mask
thoughts to the rest of the day

his fingers  poised above the computer
awaiting the spark to flare

her fingers in the tresses of his hair
asking for more connection

his fingers playing across the rise of her breast
answering all her questions

her fingers, her hands hard upon his shoulder blades
seeking the length, the depth, of him

his fingers, his hands on her ****
fullfilling their need

their fingers intertwined
as they sleep....together

walking on the beach
yesterday we picked
up a scallop shell

white to ivory on the outside
multi shades of purple within
truly a beautiful thing

once home and hearth to the scallop
or plate to the serving of he
after his demise

sometimes decorative window
on the sandcastles side
sometimes shovel to dig themoat
to turn back the tide

not often but at a pinch
a rental for a naked crab
til a better fit is found

platter for a sea bird's feast

marker for a lost wicket
in game of rounds
or beach cricket

necklace on silver thread
part of small creature roof
as the tide surges over head

if we had found two
could claim it at a bra
for small breasted
mermaid too.

once part of life, vibrant and small
eventually to, become particles
of sand, tossed about in wave
and sea.

the scallop shell,
what beauty
delicate but strong,
calcium at its finest

tideline jewel,
and a great skimming tool

we left the scallop shell
with the waves, to continue
it's journey, we gave it more days

we sit at the edge of
vespertide
listening to the chorale
of evensong
this day's opus almost done
now tapering off in
slow melodious decrescendo..
it is the gloaming
and the final flurry of light
glimmers on the horizon

now the night becomes
the diva,
the first star has been wished upon,
the first sattelite too.
and the bass note of the cicadas
builds to a *****, needful hum...

lights go on in little square
patches, and the smell
of barbeque fragrances
the summer night air

under the streetlights
the moths come to dance
a dare each other to touch
the midnight sun...

and in our garden
the rustle of the
tame gone feral
rabbit "bellamy"
has begun...

a hulking grey white
shadow now he lollops
toward the tasty green
carrot-tops...
until the sound of pounding
feet causes him to freeze
considering his position
bellamy chooses discretion
over valour and departs with haste

the wind now has a coolness to it
and the grass grows damp about us
by still we sit enamoured of the changing
slow and quiet about us
the seas whisper secrets
and the birds settle in for the night
excepting those who hunt on silent wings

the stars begin to pop
bright white on the darkening sky
and the crescent moon smile with
a sideways grin...

it is now the darker things come
owls on the wing
spiders to reknit there webs
the big bass frog to sing his song
and the small blood seeker
come with whinging wings

now we must give the night
it's privacy, as we walk inside,
from the pond a series of sounds
means the frog has found dinner
hopefuuly a mosiquito buffet

the vesper tide hath turned
the night is now come.....

you float
so lightly
upon the waters
of my soul

and when
in the sun
brightly
iridescent
do you shine

sometimes
you hide
whisper quiet

often
found though
in the strangest
of places
putting smiles
on sad faces

always in reach
for those who
extend their faith

light as feather
able to lift
the heaviest
of weights

like a smile
from a friend
or a sun shower
always welcome
especially  in
the eleventh  hour

intangible, you are
the small flame
that starts big fires....

it is true
that until
some one
has gone from you
you do not know how will
miss them...

i miss sitting quietly
with you after a day's work
tea cups in hand, savouring
the fragrance of smoky tea
and the silence that comes
from a deep sense of compainionship

I miss, coming upon you sitting on a bench
face turned toward the sun, hands spread wide
i  an act of joyful worship, a smile lighting up
your face,

I miss the itense look of concentration, as you
described a new thought or concept to others
and the loosed limbed wonder of you as you
came alive upon the stage....

the generosity of heart and spirit,
your allocentricity...

all these things i miss and more
and most days I find some new
thing that I miss...

but...
my missing you
is a living elegy

I miss most
the sound of your voice in my ear
...but I hear the echoes
that tell me....
you are stronger than this
....just breathe on through
and wait
for the sun to shine for it will, it will

In a ceramic concave
Take one cluckfart and beat
Add a cup and a half of moojuice
mix with a whirlpool motion
Then find beaten crushedvwheat
add two cups
mix with a whirpool motion
discover sweet cyrstals add 1cup
mix with a whirlpool motion

find and turn on heatslabtop source
put metal pool on heatslabtop source
add a dab of solid yellow moojuice
allow to liqiufy

pour in a measure of whirlpool mix
to create a babylake,
add some bluejuice spheres
or some monkey smilebars
listen for sizzle, watch for bubbles
take a babylake flipper and flip
the babylake so both sides cook evenly

place babylakes on ceramic circle
and repeat the process
dab of yellow moojuice
pouring the babylake mix
so on and so forth,
until ceramic circle is full or
you run out of whirlpool mix

sit at eating tree, with ceramic circle.
if you wish, add the juice of the maple
or tears of the sour yellow leather fruit
to your share of the babylakes
and then consume......and feel
your tummy muscles  smile