a monkey
from a barrel
once said to me,
can you appreciate
the absurdity
of a life
run on
the
collation
of wealth.
scrabbling
to find a monopoly.
not caring for
individuality
just racing
to be the last
man standing.
"numero uno"
grandstanding
with a poker face,
always having
to win the race.
hungry hippo,
grasping, grasping
all the time.
no patience for
games,
even life.
just running the board
playing chess,
all the time.
just waiting for the
mousetrap to fall,
kerplunk.
then just left  to
pick up the sticks,
to deal the cards,
for a game of  
go fish.
the mind just
boggles,
at the thought
of the frantic images wrought
by the monkey
and the mind games
he played
so i stuffed him back
in the barrel
where
he now
stays
he
and
his
bamboozling
jigsaw
puzzle
patter.

once i met a man
with a broken wing
a voice of a nightingale
but sad shynesss was his song.

he would sing only when
alone...
yet the beauty of his song
would carry on the wind..
and the earth would stop to listen...

after time his wing healed
he went about his daily chores....the song he sang
forgotten....

the wind howled....and the world went on, but lesser for
the loss of the momentary angelic pause....
the song was lost....and so the beauty too....

but the man had a bumper
crop of apples and pears to make to ciderand perry  that year....the year he was broken.

they are like,
amorphous things,
these thoughts, these half remembered dreams
floating,
like lilypads upon a pond
luscious green rounded fronds and shooting,
ponted drafts of sun....
luminescence, drifting on.
i dream in monet, today.
all fuzzed dots and pastel hues....close up, nothing new
but from a few steps back,
a picture...gorgeous to behold...
let me now... dream....
somemore....mayhap
i soon will see, immpression:
             soliel levent

two...yellow...blue,
now green...of leaf...
of grass...verdant...life
yellow sun...water...blue
now green...breathing...
rustling....soughing...sighing
bright flowered living beings....
two....yellow...blue...

i shall not want,
for love today.
that smile
and smakeroo kiss,
shall see me through.

i shall not want,
for a smile today.
that cheery wave and stumble hop,
that made your floppy hat,
fly and drop back onto your curls.
will have my smile, all day unfurled.

i shall not want,
for a place to be, for,
in your heart, i will nestle
and although,
we will be apart.....
i know you too,
are secreted,
in my drumming space.

my little man ...
i do not want...
i have my desires
all answered by you
and your sire too

first things, first
before i burst,
well,thats a blessed relief !!
coulda come to grief....
so easily.

it used to be,
put the kettle on
now it's slide
the plastic pod,
of coffee magic
in the slot.

lost the romance,
but i forgive,
as the coffee smell,
heaven scent
tickles, teases,
swirls and curls
in the predawn air

my nose hairs steam
and crema....crema
oh my giddy aunt!!!
i love the grind
of the bein' bean
my especial, expresso
blend
my bestest, favouritist, morning friend.
come to mamma's lips.
today....
is it gulps,
or dainty sips.
nectar in, either way
pulse begins, pupils dilate
lookin like another
beautiful day

sleep crumpled,
doe eyed and snuggly,
little mr just about four, climbs up into the big old bed.
his tousled, towheaded blonde curls bouncing
and plants a smearing, smooching kiss on my lips, before climbing into the middle bit of the bed,

the bubba spot.

then bestowing the same loving brand on da's lips
and wriggling like a fish,
he makes himself....
comfortable.

king of the bed

and hums himself back
to sleep.
we look at each other,
over his nodding head
and smile.

he is the gift ,
we did not know
we wanted,
but are so very glad,
we recieved
and we marvel at him daily. this bit, of you and me and god.
we doze all three,  
and the blucat beside
a knot of happiness and love,
in the big old bed.
contentment,
nestles, rich within our hearts
our minds at peace
together again.

slept in
awoke to the smell of pancakes
and the sound of little blucat purring.

sun shines through
scattered wispy clouds
is cool enough for slippers
and fluffy robe
but not yet a wood fire.

kitchen table set with
vase of camelia's bright pink
and snow white blooms
my boys busy flippin hotcakes
i pour coffee, and sit to watch....
this is my utopia.....

on our way home
driving through driving
rain and sleet
soft rock eighties mix
saving us from talk
Lazlo sitting in the back
lost in himself.... he has decide to travel for awhile
and is borrowing our R.V.

he closed up the house,
fostered out the indoor plants, gave the garden care
over to neighborhood friends, the carkeys too.

it has been a long battle,
and he just needs time...
that is not accountable to
anyone.
he has agreed to touch base
once or twice a week... but
other than that, he has no
plans.
l have to believe he will be okay... a good sign is he has packed his cameras and  laptop so will continue to
film and write as and when he can.

we ben and i are aching to see our boy tod....he grows
moment to moment these days

we are coming home....
driving through driving
rain.

the thought comes to mind
laz is running away from
a broken home, hoping to leave grief behind....