Underneath the rushing world
our situation at a glance
has yet to quietly unfurl.
I am only a lonely girl
who's never had a slow-song dance
above the big rushing world.
And you, you look like you could twirl
me, and trap my heart in a trance,
which has yet to slowly unfurl.

On these tracks, there is a pearl
among the others in a stance,
underneath the rushing world.
Suddenly the train stops and hurls
you toward me. This is my chance.
I should take it. But it unfurls,

I need to say before this whirl
    I have not met you. In advance
underneath the rushing world
our love will not ever unfurl.

Year after year we see
The same scene,
Tears from trees

Brown leaves on the ground
From the trees
All around

Some are sad some are pleased
With the fall of
Brown tears from trees

One day of wind, all come down,
And then the leaves are
All around

What we see is poetry
In the country and the town
Brown teary trees

We are touched somehow
Memories are always found
When brown tears from trees
Are all around


Sean Hunt
Windermere November 4th 2015

The disappointment that resides in me,
as much as I tell it to go away,
swallows my entire body.

It eats away at my flesh and rarely
leaves enough time for skin to regenerate.
The disappointment that resides in me

licks its lips hungrily
at the sight of my blood, salivates
and swallows my entire body.

This cannot be healthy,
I say to myself. There has to be a way to invalidate
the disappointment that resides in me.

I wonder if there was ever a phase of sobriety
when my expectations' weight
did not swallow my entire body.

I suppose I must return to reality
and succumb to incubate
the disappointment that resides in me,
that swallows my entire body.

Trees are growing and time is passing by,
A plant’s soul given for a ****** life’s sake.
When will time end; When is our time to die?

Birds rot on the same branch they learn to fly.
Leaves fall and grow; a man goes out to rake.
Trees are growing and time is passing by.

He lost his wife, he’s left with time to cry.
Enough time to fix what he did not break
When will time end; When is our time to die?

His son stares through father’s soul with a sigh,
Watching his father drown with his last drank.
Trees are growing and time is passing by.

While under the tree a grave will lie,
A man left taking with him a heartache.
When will time end; When is our time to die?

A family lived and was left to die,
A tree stands near without a frown to make.
Trees are growing and time is passing by.

-FJ

There is a strength within us that will not bend,
though men may slur and take our rights away,
fight out against the wrong dear friend.

Our liberties they take and rend,
they thought our will would brake but nay,
there is a strength within us that will not bend.

Brace against the bile they send,
and keep their insidious claws at bay,
fight out against the wrong dear friend.

Brave men would choose not to defend,
what we hold out for ‘till end of day,
there is a strength within us that will not bend.

Parasites and cronies steal and spend,
while innocents all fall as prey,
fight out against the wrong dear friend.

When light burns pale unto it’s dying end,
we shall stand against the dark and say:
There is a strength within us that will not bend,
fight out against the wrong dear friend.

What Hope Remained?

What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
        When putrid plumes dulled morning into night
        Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent,
        As mortals wept and earthborn angels went
        With downcast eyes to clamber heavens height.

What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
        When panicked sirens wailed a lost lament
        And backs were bowed beneath ungodly weight,
        Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent
        As boots bore souls up treadmills burnt and bent
        To scale a void devoid of dawning light.

What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
        For those in sight of angels heaven sent
        Atop the world to aid their mortal plight,
        Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent.

        When wingless brethren conquered feared ascent
        To gift last hope to all who saw their might:

                What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
                Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent.



In The Fall

I chanced upon a stranger in the fall,
Cosmetic garb of office black and white
Portraying calm demeanor of his plight
As shadows panicked on a stricken wall,

And oft' I find my mind in numb recall
To look upon that helpless human kite
Who tumbled from the terrors of a height,
Yet graceful as an eagle in a stall

Before it plummets earthward --   'Neath the pall
Of twisted steel rended by follied flight,
That stranger lives forever in the light
Suspended in iconic timeless sprawl.

        I wonder, in the briefness of his fall,
        Did he derive the meaning of it all?