What’s the purpose of it all
It’s only raining dust and grit.
The sky is weeping spatter
And the only sidewalk is
On the far side of the street.

They shined up Highway 95
But out front here is nothing
But deep breaches in the tarmac
And anything that doesn’t hurt
Me manages to itch.

All the good stuff is locked up
In upstairs rooms down endless halls
Where something has been splashed
Across the carpeting
And the door is always padlocked.

The book inside is second handed
And it’s marked up in random places
That don’t align with what
The index says should be there
And the Ex Libris page is missing.

The day is pecking at its shell
Of hopelessness and need
In hopes of gaining freedom.
The prayer wheel is no longer spinning
And the crimson candle has gone out.

There are reasons for it all
It’s written up in Sanskrit ink
And plastered on the backyard wall
That keeps it all inside or out
And I’m stuck in the middle.
ljm

The wagon rode, laden with dreams,
Of clear happiness and fairy love.
His path was hilly, full of trees.
But he rode brightly inspite of.

The wagon rode and galloped slowly
Without any troubles and fears.
The sun shined to him tenderly
And forest gave him pure cheers.

The wagon rode and breathed a peace.
He went so breezily and calm.
It seemed that nobody again,
Never and never do him harm.

The wagon rode on tiny rocks.
And now he have to started home.
His home is sunless and no cheers.
His home is gloomy catacomb.

Absence palpable as
An avocado stone-

Flesh delicious but
Roots are filling a
Far-off Jar-

White filaments lighting
Clear cool water

White paint finish
On Georgian stucco
Over red-brick.

Bomb falls at night

Dawn breaks
Tiny flecks Twinkle

Like stars

Wild Animal Within

I want to befriend
The wild animal within
To sit with and know,
To encourage and mend.

To tame its twitches,
To friend its foes.
To flame its courage
And pull up its britches.

To walk the way
Of the narrow path,
To head North even with Rath
And help it trust You and all You say.

the window shut.
the clock had stopped at 9 a.m.
the door left open.

now, you've come to haunt me.

I hear you, an old song,
and when I turn around to see
who was behind me
your eyes flicker like a distant star.

shining gray, brittle and blue eyes
as blue as the cobalt night,
and your smile sets the night
on fire.

I had held you in my arms for too long,
too long ago.
you, a denim ribbon tied into a bow.
me, the dreamer of what might be.

the elusive love,
I had put a rose on that certain box,
the day you walked out. so

every ending is a beginning
and when I m down by the river,
when on the green grass
the dew gleams,
I ll say I love you,

but for now,

you look great.
I'm glad to see you are happy.

(and so I'll see you in distant stars.
I'll hear in an old song)

and so,
I'll just say goodbye.