Smooth, the touch of a lovers hand upon your skin
which wakes a beating heart within
it stirs the sparks of bold desire
and fans the flames a little higher

Mountains are folded napkins
laid out on the cloth of the world
remnants of a picnic
that finished long ago

Scratch off the surface
of anyone's mind
and you might be surprised
at the picture you find
the one that's behind the smile that you see every day
we all paint our faces but leave little traces
in shades of Dorian Gray

Lift the lid of life
plunge in
enjoy it
embrace it
because you can't replace it

Bay of Funday
shines in the fog
smoky landscape
wide grey ocean
flower *** rocks and rolling tides
I long to breathe your salty air
and throw my cares into your breeze
feeling the freeze around my toes
who knows, perhaps one day
Bay of Funday

What is it makes us take that flight
on wings of fancy, chasing words that keep us up at night
obssessed invaders of our every waking daytime thought
they rule our lives
until at last the writing’s done
we float to earth to rest and sleep
until we start another one

I am keeping watch
as you lay in your nest of wires
an electric symphony plays
in the background
beeps to wish you goodbye
it is the hardest thing to say to anyone
but I want you to go
because the waiting is killing us all!

I have this friend
her rage
at the world
is her cage
she won’t turn the page
or try to fly
to a brighter sun
in a bluer sky
a sad little bird
who constantly weeps
for the memories
she clings to
and keeps
clutched to her chest
ignoring the rest
of her life going by
and the scars
that she’s given herself
through the bars

Don't put me in a corner
or back me in tight
it's probably the only time that I will stand and fight
If you leave me little option
here's what I'm gonna do
I'll leap out of my corner
and bite a chunk off you!

Tears of the world
a salt tide that floods
feeding the marshes
windswept waiting places
sentinels of the hollow margins
lonely but for the cries of birds
wading the cracks where land meets sky and endless water
at the edge
of something and nothing

People are rivers
some are deep
some are shallow
some are a little bit twisted
some you definitely don't want to cross
and others are just wet and full of crap!

Forgiveness
is wine that has to breathe
it needs to sit a while
uncorked to slowly warm
so that the cloudy lees will fall
and once again the glass pours clear
a sweeter vintage overall

Letters returned to sender
my heart in the blender
fingers burned
lesson learned!

When we dream
we take down a book
from the shelf
of ourself

Stones in my pockets
weigh me down
and roll like eggs while I wade in the blue
further than I thought my nerve would ever hold
chill creeps a frosty band around my chest
feet no longer touching sand
hands two waving fish among the ****
gulls as they cry pay little heed
I am beyond them now, those earthly things
Ophelia has her water wings

Almost a year of low level stress
a summer and winter of trying to guess
will it be over, can we progress
the urge to cheer up and get on has expired
not sure about you
but my God I am tired!

No love
No hope
No freedom
No voice
No future
nothing is the absence of something
and that can mean everything!

The reason I write
to **** the banality
of reality

Everyone brought flowers
oh so many pretty flowers
to grieve with me through the hours
and to take the pain away
roses and daffodils in every shade and colour
because they wanted to say something, but they didn’t know what to say!

All things bright and beautiful
all creatures great and small
all things wise and wonderful
we have defiled them all
a heap of broken butterflies
dodos & tigers too
it tells us all we need to know
about wonderful me and you!

The wind outside my window
is a lonely wayward soul
forever seeking company
searching around corners
whipping sand up into drifts
but the beach won’t play today
nor will the dark and boiling sea
or the marram grass, bent down and flat among the dunes
only the gulls with their wheeling cries
will try to hug the wind

Paradise is a free flying bird
with feathers to trim a hat
made especially for you

Sunrise
is always a surprise
we bask in the glow
and we know
that millennia ago
people were doing the same
like us they gasped as the sky turn to flame
the way if affects us
connects us

Candles light the dark
They illuminate a room
So monsters can see

I have a pleasant face
nothing special so they tell me
but pleasant all the same
I have a surprisingly pleasant singing voice
ok to listen to
but not pleasant enough to bring me fame
I live in a very pleasant house
in a very pleasant place
with my pleasant singing voice
and my chubby pleasant face
If only they all knew
how I long to be less commonplace
and just for once I would like to cheat and win the ****** race!

Pick up the brush
although the handle be thorns
and paint with words, or love or tears or rain
paint them all the same
paint your heart or the sky or a thousand other things
paint until the brush is dry and fingers bleed
for you are blessed indeed

Word butterflies
free on the wind
they escaped my head
while I was sleeping
the window in my mind
it seems
was open

You irritating ****!
Somehow you got yourself under my teenage skin
and you stayed there for thirty odd years
with the stubborness of a tick
we have grown up together
and old together
dynamite wouldn’t shift you now
you are a part of me
as I am a part of you

Flowers spread happy
Wanting little in return
It's a rare talent!

Why do we do it?

we who pluck the air

for spare and fleeting words

which do not come

although we call them

to our waiting arms

they do not play the servant

but we call them master

as we seek to turn them to our certain will

they twist us in return

riding on the freedom of their sweated backs

to have them cast us falling

to the pit below

we taste the bitterest wine

of dark despair which fills the foggy air

they will not let us sleep

and keep us trapped and tied

to do their restless bidding in our heads

although we know full well

how words are fickle fleeting things

we cannot help but wait and long for further flight

beneath the shadowed freedom of their ceaseless beating wings

Music is a joy
more pure in every fluted ringing note
than we could ever hope to find
forgetting all our own desire
on ever soaring wings of smoke and fire
it leaves the petty cares of man behind
and reaches out for something higher

My polite smile is a candle

it burns

occasionally flickering

throwing shadows

eating itself

losing form

softening

when the lights go out

there is nothing there!

The moon
a silver sixpence
loose in the pocket
of the universe

Frosty winter pond
Water glass obscured by snow
Fish dance in private

Sing like a bird in a tree
Without the rage
Of a bird in a cage

If your vocabulary is small
you can grow it like a plant in a ***
day by day water it with words
one at a time until it blooms
into dictionary flowers

We all need beauty in our lives
words or music or mountains and trees
not like a fish, they need the water to breathe
like a bird needs the air
they can live in a cage
the bars will not suffocate their lungs
only their tiny souls
they are miserable if they cannot fly
always longing for the sky they can see from a window

To live life vicariously
is to be a shadow
riding pillion
on someone else's bike

Opinion is the fuel
that lights the paper
beneath the words
that set the world alight

A candle breaks our dark

a spark to chase the shadows to their several corners

who can say where it lies

somewhere inside

every life has a glow

of what, we don't quite know

but it shines all the same

a tiny flame

radiant as the moon

or the stars that hang forever floating in celestial night

that little flickering light

I'm not your stepping stone

a safe and easy ride

to pastures fresh and green

on the other side

why should you stay dry

while I sink with the tide

you want to go that's fine

build a bridge

and then we'll see

but don't you ever tread on me

Vandalism
an angry lens
a prism
focusing
on
an eruption
of mindless
destruction

My heart is a singing stone

set by the stove to warm if cold winds blow

it hums a happy little tune

when love's kettle boils

and fills a mug for two!

Leaders are supposed to inspire

not warm their hands as the flames climb higher

on the nation's funeral pyre!

An ant based society
may lack variety
they work to the beat
of six tiny feet
but they all get to eat
ants don't hold elections
that lead to insurrection
an ant inspired riot
would be extremely quiet

We are all a part
of a universal whole
each living soul
is connected
unless directed
to be disconnected
war breaks the chains
until all that remains
are the crosses we sow
where flowers used to grow

A fish
does not want to be on your dish
for it to be obtainable
it needs to be
sustainable

Music the folder
and holder of sound

Rhythm the binder
that winds it around

Lyrics are papers
where meaning is found

A tiny trickle of sand
passing through
the fingers of your hand
that's an hour
just a shower
of amber grains
what remains
of a once mighty boulder
much older than time
it has heard midnight chime
many times
the tick tick tock
of the clock of eternity
and now it embraces modernity
slowly wearing away
day by day
hour by hour
as a shower of sand
in the palm of your hand

The little knot
you know the one
it's tied
deep inside
been there for about a year
made up from fear
sometimes you hardly feel it
other times we can't help but reveal it
hard to hide
it's a gradual downward slide
to living with the constant stress
and listlessness
that boredom brings
when our wings
have been stilled
and we are constantly filled
with hope for a time that may never come again
and yet we remain
sane but still tied
by that little knot inside