Futures unravel,
through tangled vines,
Thorns clawing back …
Later inject an incline.

Upward to where?
A place of dream?
Don’t seek that place,
A known end, absent from sheen.

New elegance seek, though misty and askew,
Chased circumspection …,
While your fearless leap,
Disregards their detection.

I feel the clumping clatter,
When you said, that 'life does matter'.
What angle do you mean?
Has the lens you use, lately, become unclean?

My lenses comfort, and alarm,
One my child, keep free from harm,
Later, focus to need,
Something new, a wish, too often greed.

Yet another comes, with a rush,
Distracting ghosts’ crippling hush.
A life-fixing lens,
Showing too, glimpses of the end.

Peer through my lens, for what is your life,
Gather power, avoid fear and strife?
You control, resists life’s tangle;
Reduce the toll, adjust to my angle.

Leave my calm,
don’t bother me today,
too high strung …
No time for play.

Torrid work demands,
responding to call,
why choose this…
to secure a fall?

Expectation press,
don’t let them down,
dreams elude,
Salience unfound.

To know,
reasons why what’s done,
flowing through life,
struck by no fun.

Is today the day,
The day I had dread,
The day I hear one say―
That today, and now, I am dead?

But I feel alive,
Free here to roam,
To sing that song,
I don’t here feel so alone!

Though I’m quite unsure,
As to where I reside,
I’m still in my head,
And my heart is at my side.

And you are here too,
Though not yet as pure,
This true meeting will come,
When you, once again, become my cure.

When we do meet here,
Whole beings, as we one,
gazing on the moon rising,
and loving again with the setting sun.

For you here, my endless love remains,
To be given again, again and again,
Just be patient now, please my love,
And feel, if you believe, no sorrow, remorse or pain.

Franz, what you ask,
The burden you set,
Leaves me pondering,
The human regret…

My Max, you don’t understand,
What I write by head and hand,
Is me and mine, and goes with me too,
My life is too sad to stand…

Look Franz, you will influence beyond,
Metamorphing, trialling, castles in Amerika,
Your eternal mirrors,
Existing now, and afar…

Max, you know I must die,
End me and my work,
I beg you dear,
Me and this, all lost in the dirt…

I will not Franze,
People need to know,
Your work must sparkle,
Rhyme, rhythm and flow…

I won’t rest Max,
As you deny my wish,
I’ll never have peace,
There's no rest, when me they miss…

Weigh up for me Franze,
Other’s joy, at your distress,
Woe to deny them your vision, and percept.

You’ll suffer Kafka, to the end,
but little matters,
When others gain,
with you, fading tatters.

Sixty fewer seconds,
If you read this here,
But beware what beckons,
And those you hold dear―
Or fear.

In sixty past seconds,
grasping your wife as lost,
gazing your child’s life ended,
with perpetrator bearing no cost―
… for your soul torn and bended.

Your sixty seconds re-start,
Decide what to do,
Revenge those now apart...
Or begin a life anew?

Sixty second choices,
Will decide your fate,
Don’t ignore the voices,
Don’t deviate from that you hate.

Those sixty seconds,
Springboard you next,
So choose here to reckon,
Your ultimate quest.

For in sixty seconds of time,
Revenge was taken sweet,
… shocking the culprit, weapon buried―
full, hard and deep.

And though pain followed crime,
You did for the moments, in reflect,
tangent the sublime … now floating in time,
and you’ll be fine, no more a suspect.

Yesterday, racing to the finish ... the old man bled,
‘take it slow, talk to me,
tell me what’s in your head…’

‘No, I’ve not finished, there was not enough time,
I’ve really got nowhere here,
Stuck still, in so many binds.’

Said the old man, ‘where are you going?
(gasping) We’ll both be there soon,
Going together, and soon enough―
we’ll be in the knowing,
and running past the moon.’

‘But you and me differ’ (this said with effort)
‘I, rich, young and beautiful,
You, you look pathetic.’

The old man was calm, ‘aren’t we both sick,
You should have stopped racing,
We all get there, too quick.’

‘For we reach the same line,
Accidents filling grief―
for some more than others.
But we’ll all reach the divine,
so be calm, and keep looking,
we'll soon enough see the sublime’ …

Convulsing with such utters―
they take together,
the last of their shudders.