When the ****
hits the fan,
the things I want to hear
and the things I need to hear
are rarely the same thing.

It’s usually the hard truth
that I remember most
in the wee hours,
when anxiety swirls
around my head

When the time finally comes
to exit the whirlpool
the words that my heart
knows are true,
are the words
that fuel the change.

In the pasture of moonlit dreams
they sought the music and the seams
of realities caged by beams
of light hidden in a tomb of sins...

With brush
and pen
they strove
again
to awaken a long-lost friend

Humanity's aid, the devil's ruin,
a savior beyond what's worth pursuing,
for all are judged by saviors awakened
cast in iron
cage awaiting
time unwrought from plans abating
devil's deeds no longer
contemplating
their yields and wicked whims
now dating
cobwebs conjured
by idleness, hungered
schemes distorted
abandoned plunder
salvation came to the sleeping world, hence
for the devil's slothfulness made pence
duplicity broke itself in twain
devils freed and angels made
war in heavenly realms abound
demonic trickery, no longer purchase found
light shone down from truth above
o'er horizon, burgeoning sun commanded its wake
cast its sight upon the world
devils expired as does smoke unfurled
as do shadows in all-consuming light, unmade
and what became of that world then?

When the sun may set, we shall learn again...
What darkness shrouds, we forget, so too the pain,
for what the light sears, the darkness cools,
and what the light frees, the darkness feeds,
what the light starves, the darkness protects,
what the light feeds, the darkness drains,
what the darkness drains, the light protects,
what the light protects, the darkness hungers,
what the darkness hungers, the light favors,
what the light favors, the darkness despises,
what the darkness despises, the light understands,
for well made plans cannot thrive in darkness alone,
if the light should reveal the plans to be tainted
the zenith of sun shall burn the plagues of satan...

Your face is lined;
your brows are white.
You’re facing down
your long twilight.
Your tummy has a little bulge--
I see marks of what you
used to indulge.
Your teeth aren’t white;
your hair is thin,
but I believe that you’ve won
the struggle within.
There are bags
underneath your eyes,
but that gaze now is
so much more wise.
You don’t stir my blood--
the blood of youth--
but your words today
speak realms of  truth.
Love is left
when lust is gone,
and this love will last
‘til the world is done.

The weight of life is heavy on my shoulder
My memory of youth is sad now I am older
I am closer to the moon than I am to the sun
And the things I regret are the things I haven't done

In the mirror I see a face that I don't recognise
I see the fading of the light and the story in the eyes
Is one of chances lost and forever they are gone
And the only thing that's left is the sadness of a song

The voices that I hear, they take away my breath
I gave my life to fear and now I'm bored to death
I am closer to the end but I never made a start
And the lesson I have learned is tearing me apart

We only get one chance, this is our only shot
When all is said and done, all will be forgot
When you let it slip away, it is forever gone
And the only thing that's left is the sadness of a song

The first bite of a Mallomar,
Crunching like a boot,
On a fresh sheet of snow.

The sip of Ginger Ale,
On crushed ice,
With the squeeze of a lemon wedge

The smell of crisp Autumn air,
In September,
Just before the leaves change.

A puff of rich tobacco,
Rolled in Maduro,
With a glass of Scotch.

A salty, fatty, crispy steak,
Dripping of meat juice,
As it swims in steak sauce.

The lips of a beautiful woman,
Inside and out,
Pressing up against mine.

My fingers flicking,
Through fresh paper,
Of a brand new hardcover.

The feeling you get,
When seeing prints developed,
From your own 35mm roll of film.

A big, salty, garlicky pickle,
After a deli sandwich,
On a Saturday afternoon.

The palette punch,
Of a salt and vinegar chip,
From a fresh bag.

Looking at all that gives me joy,
One can see the truth,
In the meaning of life.

Little things,
Oh so grand,
In a world of big woes.

I walk thru
these empty hallways,
Looking for an exit
Or a doorway
to me,
Either will do.

But instead I find
Endless corridors
I wander thru perpetually blind,
No matter how
clearly I see.

Lost in a paper bag
open at both ends
I can't seem to find
My own way home.

Written 10/2020

Do not read it, you will not like this book, it speaks about your pain,
It reveals your scars, the ones you don't want us to see,
It tells how lonely you are and happy you used to be.
You will not like the reminder that you once really believed in love,
That your heart was a beautiful castle, this book calls it rubble.
Its pages will unfold like the layers of your forgotten dreams,
Revealing the cracks where hope once happily lived .
You'll find remnants of the light that used to dance in your eyes,
Now muffled by the cello tape of countless goodbyes.
This book is a mirror to the cold nights you spend alone,
When only the stars see your tears, and onto your groans the moonlight shines.
and her light sings the melodies of your shattered symphony,
The tune of heartbreak and bittersweet agony.
The stories it holds will reopen the septic you've concealed,
The wounds that time tried really hard but miserably failed to heal.
In these pages, you'll meet the demons you've known,
As the pain within you is a dynamite waiting to be blown.
this book will drug you deeper into the labyrinth of your past,
Aren't you, exhausted from trekking the same miles when you've just washed off the dust?
this book brews with the wrecking storms thought to have passed...
Do not read this book, it will drive you insane...

She is sore, burnt by sparks from the flames of desire
there is no treasure to find in the land far away;
yet, the journey home is as tiring as the stay.
The ocean of opportunity, once pictured in vibrant hues,
stretches before her in muted tones, its waves carrying
not the promises but the weight of disillusionment.
The sky above, once a canvas of dreams, now painted grey with clouds of doubt,
casting shadows on the path she knew, or thought!
The laughter that lingered is drowned by the silence of shattered dreams
The friendly whispers, once a soothing melody, now resound as hollow echoes,
stark reminders of friendships dissolved like mirages in the desert of reality.
The road paved with anticipation is a maze of uncertainties,
each turn leading to a dead end of unmet expectations.
The once vibrant petals of hope have withered,
replaced by the thorns of disappointment, pricking at her spirit with every step.
The starry nights that were supposed to hold her wishes
now seem like distant constellations, beyond her reach,
lost in the vast expanse of unfulfilled aspirations.
The roads of life are perilous now more than ever
for her knight of courage upped and left in the dead of night ...
She can't even tread on the shore of optimism
as what should have been warm sand is a swamp of alligators waiting to bite...