Nothing is there to see in the sea
except waves after rolling waves
breaking with monotony on the shore
swelling and succumbing to sands.

Nothing is there to see in the sea
except the colour of the water
ever changing in harmony with the sky
and the lives that come ashore alive or dead.

Nothing is there to see in the sea
except the thunderous silence of night
teeming with silvery moon's glow
and the sprays that kiss like a lover.

Nothing is there to see in the sea
except the one eternal picture of life
birthing in aggression and dying in submission
afloat on the waves of transitory desires.

Wonder Wart-Hog succumbed to his powers,
“Was it the beer?” on his adopted planet
raised by hillbillies who were unable to eat him
As misanthropic as his neighborhood denizens
he is fated to bring swine justice, to the greater evil villains,
with his haphazard hog combat
living in a welfare toothed city scape
with broken-bottle-wielding alleyways
our superhero lumbers and snorts forward
into the breach of the seedy underbelly
of a schizoid society seeking hoodie anonymity
or zombie relief in a pick your poison age
This “Hog of Steel” though mild mannered
in his unaltered ego of Philbert DeSanex
fights for a labored truth, law and order
while delivering absurd antics on unsuspecting consumers of fascist pickles and bureaucratic saltines

-cec

“It occurs to me that I really can't remember your face in any precise detail. Only the way you walked away through the tables in the café, your figure, your dress, that I still see.”
And I can’t say it much better than that. Except it wasn’t a dress but, in fact, a cotton tee. Not the tables but the way the streetlight bounced off your jaw. I don’t remember your voice anymore or even the words you gave me. I can only dig my fingers deeply into the body of your laugh.

Aching emptiness, a hollow, searching beat,
Love, a lost hunter, with weary, searching feet.
Through barren lands, laughter turned to sighs,
It seeks a haven, with longing in its eyes.

Is your heart hidden, a fortress built so strong?
Do whispers echo, where no love songs belong?
But wait, a flicker, a warmth against the night,
A gentle tremor, a hesitant, shy light.

Perhaps your heart, too, is searching for its own,
Love's quest may end, where two souls become one.