Early morning
Early morning is where both moon and poet unite
both in seeing and bringing into this world their light


The greedy sun
As the greedy sun peels back orange horizons
the hungry poet licks lips, and savours imagination

With her lamp, she lit the faces of the soldiers
with her care and her concern and her love
for Florence Nightingale was simply an angel
sent down to Earth from Heaven above

She did not flinch from those terrible wounds
nor from the wounded ones' gangrenous smell
She simply did what the Lord in Heaven told her
gave of her love,. and cared for them well

She had been born into the Gentry
so knowing only riches and wealth
yet she cared so little for her status
just simply for others welfare and health

Now, this whole dark world over
the symbol of her lamp still glows
for wherever, whenever, one sees a Nurse
one sees the love and dedication they show

In all war torn countries, and amid deep poverty
and where now the dark Corona holds sway
still the light that Florence held glows brightly
so turning the darkest nighttime into day

So remember them, as we fall into sleep each night
so remember them when morning's sun brings light
and hold in your hearts and minds their example
supreme, of courage and of love that shines so bright

With a single glance, you fill
my eyes, my mind, my soul
with the magic of your captivation,
raising me on golden wings
to make me complete and whole

Your deep, dark brown eyes
have the capacity to mesmerize
making me fall for you again and again
bringing out moonshine bringing sunshine
taking away all Life's storms and its rain

For you are a Sorcerer
you hold me in your spell
with the herbs and spices
of a Master Chef of captivation
you cure me, you make me well

reserved
Her heart gaped open
for all the world to see
whilst his conscience
remained as firmly closed
as an unused rusty zip

Do you see me soar above you?
do you hear the pulse of my wings
do you see the beauty of my feathers
where the dew of healing clings

Do you taste with me the scent of clouds
that carry a Tempest's rain
Do you feel with me the refugees
who suffer poverty and pain

Do you see the great high mountains
the valley, glen, and dale
do you see the vast grey oceans
where the ships in beauty sail

Come with me on my journey
you can do so in your mind
forget the shores of unrest
and leave them far behind

See the iced Antarctica
the bergs that fill the sea
see the mighty Jungles where
nature struggles to roam free

See the blackened Ocean depths
where oil its stain has spilled
see the empty African plateaus
where all wildlife has been killed

Now say for me a heartfelt prayer
take the healing from each wing
lift your voices O my brothers
and my Sisters, come and sing!

We fear, yet respect you, as diminutive determined invaders
nibbling like too eager lovers at necks, faces, arms, and skin
invading our fragile human air space like sneaky chinooks
your poison injecting into all the cavities that lie deep within

We bow to your humming, into our eardrums eerily drilling
dreading the cratering with your probing insectile missiles
as you target the ****** territories of our all too human flesh
your determined approach that old instinctive fear instilling
knowing nets do not dissuade you no matter their size of mesh

We praise you, as shrilling, chilling choristers of the Tropics,
admire you as enemies, secretive, invincible, secreting unease
recognizing your sustained mission to dominate humankind
as you move ever Northward with an invading army's expertise

The impotent wishing
for some merciful being
to shut you off from the
unremitting, almost daily
mixture of
frustration and despair
it's been like this for too long
you wake in the small hours
wondering at the alarm
to all but your inward ear
seeking the tremor of hands
that sudden cramp which
you stretch your limbs
the salty trajectory of the tears
all those times when that faceless one pounced
and still, in ready ambush, lies
and that lost soul sets your pulse to fast
and deep inside you
full of impotence, cries

It has long been a distant dream
this dream of a roof over his head
he used to sit on the worn down pavement
beneath the monument to some long dead
and long forgotten Monarch
and watch the ones he
called the walking dead
who traipsed along the crowded street
all the weight of their greed in
their shining, well shod, feet
A hand would occasionally
toss a single coin or two
into the guitar case by his side
passing City types would  show derision
their  haughty features could not hide
it is still  a distant dream
this dream of somewhere
to call his home
it haunts him even more
as now through the dark
deserted  streets he roams

He watched her
He knew She was a blank slate
upon which he could write
an easy target to keep fixed in his sight
the bullets of his control hit her one by one by one
until he could see through her to project
the insidious gleam of his dark sun

His control made
a full fathomed mine of her soul
for his mind was the centre of
his self perceived Universe
he enslaved her until
he had stolen all of her self control

She withered until she was a mere husk
her mind dissolved by his poison
until she was nothing
until she was no longer whole

A river moves through me
guiding and shaping the amoeba in me
that rises from the soul's
ebbing and flowing tides of life
making me human

Tears are something that I shed almost every day
looking at the manner in which we treat this world
seeing the awesome beauty in the flower that unfurls
caressing the softness of a beloved Grandson''s curls
Yes, I know that tears are not always of sadness or of gloom
are not always shed in privacy in the night-silent room
for sometimes they are shed in public, and out there,
out in this wide, wide world, this universe we all share
shed for the valiant soldiers who suffer for the fight
shed for the thousands for whom there is no light
shed as an ocean carries its tides that ebb and flow
shed as the rivers and streams upon eternal wandering go
but the saddest tears that anyone, everyone, can shed
are the tears for the ones from whom all hope has sped
tears for the children whose homes are by war torn apart
tears for the ones who hold no love within their hearts
So never tell me that I should not weep, I should not cry
instead, seek in your own hearts, the reason why

I fall
down through the dark mists of grief
it's shadows closing about me
extending my arms to memories
I need now to be corporeal
to hold me close
to stay my fall
to restore all
that is lost
that is past
with no conditions
let me land
on Terra Firma
not on the stormy waves
of heartache

Freedom is not gathering in a public place
rather it is the ability to see the empty soul
behind the politician's public face
to stop our ears to Authority's soft cudgel'd speeches
and how to separate the wheat from the chaff
our bumbling so called leaders feed us every day

You pulse my heart with that smile
shining from the depths of your dark eyes
your touch fills my body with the whisper
of a thousand trembling sighs
This whole world could be filled
with multitudes of angels all
singing in the same sweet voice
but I could not ever find anything more
beautiful than the company of you
in which I still rejoice
There are oceans out there
that I would swim to carry me back to you
there are forests through which I would walk
all through the night and into the
icy coldness of a frosty Winter’s day
white clouds skimming across the Heavens
and blue birds winging on their ceaseless way
yet, all these would be nothing, nothing
if we ceased to continue loving
each other in that same, sweet way

Too important are the words I long to say to you
for far too long do they lie buried in my heart
so why do they only surface from the lake of
my sub consciousness when we are far apart?

Why do such things stand like crumbling landmarks
that life's time and tide can wash too swiftly away
why can I go and buy you gifts and yet still
find hardest all those words that I need to say?

And why, when those words do erupt like molten magma
why, when my face, my eyes, my desperation betray
do those who should listen, not just stare at me
blank their eyes and turn dismissively away?

I should be allowed to tell of my own heartache
for is it not there in my dreams, and in my very soul
so why when I open the book of my revelations
can you not stay, not listen, not make me whole?

Let me tell you how I feel, let you not my secret
heartaches, my secret dreams deny or steal
fix upon me your eyes, listen to the words I tell
and then, only then will you truly know me well

I am hungry for I am empty
since you left me
empty of hope and belief
I know nothing now but uncertainty,
yet everything of heartache, misery and grief
the book of my life has too many pages
dog-eared and damp
with the tears of loneliness
wrinkled by the gnawing of fear
yellowed by the scorching of inclement rages
for peace is a stranger, an alien conception
for I, who desire nothing more
than to feel full of relief

The impotent wishing
for some merciful being
to shut you off from the
unremitting, almost daily
mixture of
frustration and despair
it's been like this for too long
you wake in the small hours
wondering at the alarm
to all but your inward ear
seeking the tremor of hands
that sudden cramp which
you stretch your limbs
the salty trajectory of the tears
all those times when that faceless one pounced
and still, in ready ambush, lies
and that lost soul sets your pulse to fast
and deep inside you
full of impotence, cries

My Love, stay with me until
my arms cannot hold you
my eyes cannot return your smile
my heart beats its final goodbye
then, keep me close in your heart

Our circle of love was as rounded and perfect as
a new world held in my hands and heart
as a silver crescent moon bright and shining
from the start
as a diamond faceted in oh so many ways
a square cut emerald gemstone
echoing the fresh lush greenness
of those first heady days
but all now has ended
come to a sad conclusion
all to an amorphous shape
ill formed, almost a nothingness
vague and half concealed
love that was once the
perfect fresh plucked apple,
red and ripe, has rotted
its inner most being decayed and
set to a bitterness strange and congealed
my hands are stained with my tears
my heart is as black
as deadly nightshade at its core
a dark teardrop pearl malformed and tarnished
beached upon a dark and distant shore
that circle of love that once I thought was ours
once rounded and perfect as a new world
that I held once in my hands and heart
is now a torrent of teardrops
onto the letter fallen
fallen from my trembling hands
a letter ripped - and ripped - apart

For us two hearts as one together beat
For us two minds as one together meet
For us two as one together always will be
I for you and you for me
For togetherness is sharing
togetherness is caring
nothing else between us
ever comparing

alone
and silently, internally, she screams
for she knows better than to betray her pain
else the neighbours might hear her
might tell him
or he might see her face tear stained
and will take, as always
his anger, his disappointment
with himself
diluted by
a bottle
a glass
a can
and that lack of these
will precipitate once again
the blackened eyes
the inward tears
the bruised skin
all of those outward signs
that she would once again
have to skilfully disguise
so her scream continues silently
stifled to the world outside
dying to a silent
whimper
as she watches the clock
and waits
for his key
to turn almost silently
in the lock