The blue
flower of
ill distinction,
unfurls.

Parchment
petals,
pledge adorned,
crumble.

Dust is
truth. Each
unfiltered breath
pervades mulch.

The purple doll
ages but never grows -
unlike broccoli withering
into winter soup.

Fading instead -
cobwebbed, each
thread a singular
nightmare - a set, silky,
smooth malignant mousse -
bleak, black and shiny.

In those 80s days,
a nuclear fire burned
in the hearth.

From the Bradbury,
Wyndham trees,
leaves fell in which to bathe.

Star Wars and Atlantis –
were fables and facts
in the scientific age…

…Today is an
unresponsive page
in a world of stranger things.

... acquiescence to Nature's breath,
blown into the bliss of nothingness.

Tap, tap
at the door,
the news
brought home…

carsick
journey,
no map
no compass…

just a face…

a face in
the crowd,
forever
impassive.

Monochrome sphere
cyclOptic gaze
Opalescent pearl
sentinel of Night

The graveyard is a
mouth of crooked teeth,
with an ambiguous smile.