How you always wake me up early in the morning

Standing on the roof of my house while the house sparrows

Chatter among themselves in their sweet frenzied way

Arguing over food, and space and all the other things that

Siblings squabble over



They flutter around and you pay no attention to them

But like Zarathustra on his hillside, you continue to call out

And demand answers with that strange rising intonation at the end

A rising arpeggio of riddles asking of me in the morning-

Who-who, who-who, who?

Pretty little mushrooms

Growing in the sky

8 feet, 50 feet, 100 feet high

Blasts of radiation  

Blows us all away

When it turns to midnight

In the middle of the day

The sea crashed on the shoreline
Like the whisper of a lover
Telling the secrets of her deepest being
To the deaf and silent land

The waves rushed in and hardened the shore
And no one dared to touch the sea
But fixed angry glares on her murderous swells
Relinquished only with grudging
With the cold grey morning

Heaving on her stormy *******
Men and birds alike find a living
In the cold cruel mistress's hands
The sea like a field, yields its fruit
Mere morsels to keep her lovers enslaved
Bound in sluggish wedlock
Tempestuous, cold
The men made hardy by her rage
And drunk by her salty kiss
Hearing her call when at night in their beds
Or by the fire, they take stock and rest
For what the sea gives, she demands a return
And for another lost lover, a candle shall burn

For Robin & Emilie Stammers  

They say the universe is full of smells  
In fact tests on astronaut's suits  
Have indicated this much was true  
It seems- they say- that there are faint  
Traces of metallic smells you see?  
Not the stink of leather and bourbon  
Which emanates from my friend Robin  
Or the sweaty funk that lingers  
Where my obese neighbour goes  
There are- to put it quite simply-  
None of the rich earthy smells  
That one associates with life or living  
In the cold realms of outer space  
There are just the smells  
One would find in a science lab  
In other words metals and the  
Faint perfume of vaporous gasses  
Seeping from stars and planets  
In perpetual extra-terrestrial fartings  
Out there- where there are  
Strange cosmic happenings that  
Would blow your mind-  
The universe they say is positively stinking  
Reeking to high heavens  
You could say...  
Though of course, we can really never know  
For sure  
And that is what bothers us-  
Humans, in general, that is-  
We don't like being reminded  
Just how finite we are  
When we are surrounded  
By all that marvellous infinity

The father you know
Is a construct made up from  
Odd parts
Like some Frankenstein's monster
Put together by you
From things you heard
And impressions you have
Based on his actions

His intentions you knew nothing of  
Nor of the sorrows
He felt over the decisions he made
And how they were not always his
To make
But were often the results of
Consequences out of his control

You will see over time
How he mourned for you
And how the father you know
Is nothing like the person  
He really is

The metal blade
That kissed your skin
Will nor remove the pain
Nor form scars
To match the ones
Formed by betrayal upon
Your heart
The seeping blood
So crimson
Enticing
Will not wash away  
They way that tears do
The sadness you may feel
Spent on people who
Mistreat you
But they are fools
And so beneath you
And their razor blade tongues
Cut into you
But you will rise above
Their hurtful words
Like blood red roses
In the snow
And from the ashes of  
Your broken self
We'll see the fire of  
Your beautiful spirit
And we'll have roses for ashes then

*© 2011 Vincent S. Coster

Eat not my Brother
For though his skin is darker than mine
His tears are no less salty
Nor is his laughter less sweet

Eat not my brother
Treat him not unlike a man
For though we are not alike on the outside
Humanity is not only skin deep