The  Contra jour man hid his  grimace,
watching the Punch and Judy show
with vignettes of spectators in like denial,
he  clenched his fists
fearful of the spotlight
yet he could not surrender pain

Eventually he try to break the  rules
and heal underneath.
Yet his crucifix a new seaside town
with a floodlit vaudeville
presenting songs of  belied memories
to which he can only  raise a mug
of  out of season white burgundy
apparently leading the dance  nowhere.

Joyous in her mind
a pinnacle of  cherishment
meadow seeds in sweet  abandon
laced with uncensored willingness
gives life her mound to build upon.

boundless neverhood pockets
the lost crumbs
of comfort too often,
servitudes discordant words
quivers by termitys  foil.

A tarnished trumpeter never redeems
future joy's subtllety
the limelight challenge casts yesterdays myrth,
as an an old man cries
for the lost passages of his never written diary,
as the ceiling of his dreams unrepaired
quivers by  dusks lament

laminated headlands batter  
the wilderness of superficality,
scanned bucolic butterflies flutterings ,
have lost all sense of season
except for the observation posts,
speculating fresh awe
from the baying guests
whose insatiable fantasies
takes nature a step towards  the adultered.

Adieu I will curl away
and reawaken ten years from now
like an unwitting coil
I spring  some confounded earnestness
of built up creaks and misalignments ,
serenade me not,
for discordant pipers foil
their sepia tinged pedestraness.

Their presence sketches like acid,  
almost pythonesque  
point blank opening bus  windows
in the chill of the British  winter
only because  their  ,
over clothed shopping sweat
induced the delirium,
stares the weary answers why not !
If I could only notate your wrongful expression
to sweep away your feigned surprise
the world would  right itself.