We were given a lovely world
but we trampled it and mashed it
beat it up and trashed it,
nobody else to blame
we did it to ourselves
and it's such a ****** shame,
we can't walk away,
we can't say I quit
we made this awful mess
now we have to live in it

Love is a peach,
a sweet and luscious fruit
set high upon a garden wall,
we climb, we taste
we scrape our knees and then we fall,
then through burning embers
one remembers
it was worth it after all

Listen cat,
make up your furry mind
in or out?
I cannot guess which way you are inclined

January starts its journey
as a wet and sorry thing,
a limp balloon in a leafless tree
and a soggy bit of string

The sky has made her bed with the waves
together they tumble, windward blown
star crossed lovers, never alone

A poet finds no joy in errant words,
those misbehaving dogs  
which will not come to heel,
how can they delight us  
they may turn round and bite us

This turning year  
a child of war so newly born,
could we give it a day
to dream its infant dreams,
the simple gift of a little peace
apparently not, or so it seems