Twisted reeds sway gently in the wind as black seabirds slice the sky overhead.
Waves rolling one by one crash with increasing ferocity on to the rocky beach,
And I watch the red sun set fire to the spray while  the tide encircles me.
Tugging at my feet, pulling me forward, it beckons for my consent. I give in,
And all is quiet even in such chaos. All is nightmarish and beautiful all the more.

The blood red horizon seers my retinas; freshly unleashed tears take to the sea.
These waves, such enormous swells, crash in on me; an unseen war is waging.
They press  me down and back, and then drag me further into the endless blue.
Over and over again, repetition loses count, my outcries die prematurely.
Only seawater and air manage to sputter from my lips, cracked and worn.

Not a whisper can be heard out here in such a true state of despair, but not all
Castaways are without faith. The past I once cherished has been lost to the depths,
Yet a knowing tingle in my gut keeps me searching for a message hidden merely
'Neath the surface. Drifting deeper into my pain, I notice a curious thing:  
The force of the waves lessening as I gracelessly surrender to Sorrow and the sea.

My feet torn by jagged rocks no longer felt, my eyelids blistered by the red
Eternal sunset, a few waves push me under before the siege of the sea falters and
I learn to ride the surf, taking each afront as it comes, whether predicted or
Suddenly upon me. My pain ebbs away slowly with the passing of each episode,
And with each wave I acknowledge my loss, relinquishing my burden.

Like so many desparinging hearts before me shipwrecked in the sea of tears,
I forcefully remind myself that one day the lush, inviting green shores of the
Other side of the sea will appear in my line of vision. Yet, for now, I let myself
Drift through the grief of grieving you, often unsure of whether I'm meant to float
Or should let myself sink toward the blackest crags of my mind. Here alone.

Atop an Orange van driving through the jungle
Journeying toward Ugandan Safari
Heads skimming branches and hanging leaves
And above us super sized spiders held between the trees

Up-tailed Pumbas dash into the unknown
where branches are tangled within themselves
and cacti are dressed with vines like a curtain
giving lives some security from the hunters hidden within

Nearing the fall the redness of soil shines shards of diamond
like the confetti of angels
Whilst the deathly currents are gushing a fierce calming
the spray saturates us in a welcome cooling
as we view the hanging rainbow of bliss

The journey continues with our legs dusted in glitter of the earth
and wind blowing the wet from our skin
A knock delivers generous giving’s of green
And we listen to an orchestra of nature
welcome us to the scene of Africa as it should be

Within the park we’re stunned by stretching scenery
Raw Africa as far as eye can see
Afront us a distance of still Savannah
Yet life roams within in abundancy

Of which life we’re left wondering
As we reach the camp of the red chilli
our favourite taste of beer greets us
So sitting back we see the sun sinking
Whilst man builds for us shelter to sleep in

Next morn rises early setting out for sightings
And we watch the red-hot sunrise upon the Nile
The light catching glistening ripples of water
and the painted sky reflecting onto the hippos habitat

Our first taste of the wildlife we wish to see
Their faces skim the wet shallows
and occasionally rise to gather gasps of air
Father and child fight for hierarchy
And we’re excited to witness the creatures’ honesty

Across the water atop Betty life feels complete
Without doubt there’s no better place to be
Chapati and egg breakfast with wind in our hair
whilst we look for movement of life amongst the trees
Our faces stretched with permanent grins of glee

It’s so quiet we can hear the grasses rustling
The tempo set by the crickets chirruping
Interrupted only by spontaneous sound of birds singing
And whistles of romance as the winged ones are wooing
Peace is so perfectly performed it’s mesmerising

Of animals and birds we encounter many
The signatory Kob prance elegantly upon the heath
and dodge road collision at the last minute
Reminding us that this land is theirs
Pace needn’t pander to our presence

We catch glimpses of mongoose scarpering into bushes
And guinea fowl following the leader as they dot along the roadside
Kingfishers fluttering flirts in the skies above us
then make a sudden swift dive for feed in the ground beneath

The giraffe stand still like statues
all pointed toward the sun like proving a point of endurance
Determined not to let us see them run
While the birdlife exceeds expectations
as we score sight of spoonbill feeding breakfast in the lily littered lake

We meet herds of buffalo grazing
whilst birds peck the pests from their backs
proving every part of nature has its’ purpose
And making their bulky weight appear as no threat

The queens of the food chain are found chilling modestly in the shade
ignorant of our privilege for close proximity
Unfazed by vehicles gathering in view of her public rarity
she relaxes comfortably at roadside so calm she’s almost cuddly

Upon the Nile we witness wildlife washing
Flumps are cooling in the muddy waters
Ears flapping whilst feeding on the grasses of the riverbank
oblivious to the still and sinister crocs waiting within for prey to pass
their jaws held open ready to strike a snack

The blazing heat and gentle motion leaves passengers falling into sleep
But they willingly wake to view the gushing falls of Murchison
cascade down the rock front separating the hills of pure luscious green
and creating current for driver to fight so to journey back safely
Not become another story of tragedy

Then as we wait to board the boat back
Baboons come hither to hunt our rucksacks
To spite their unwanted paparazzi
They help themselves to our belongings greedily
Mother carrying child throughout the robbery

In two days atop Betty and water we’ve been enriched with excitement
and opportunity to see so many new beings
Route home passes Ziwa meeting the endangered rhino species
And we share time with Obama and his protected family

Our last portion of pleasure is hopeful
as we watch the bulky beasts live life naturally
in a sanctuary maintained by committed rangers
who help us follow their motion so closely
we see them soak and scratch their skin

Then back in Betty we have one last long journey
that takes us back to our dreaded reality
of a working week back in capital city
We’re sad but glad to hold a memory
of what was a fantastic fateful opportunity

Alas afront standing before thee, brave
Cowish, unable to ask thee outright
Bewitched by thine beauty, oh humble knave
Oh whose virtue doth bloom roses anight

So elegant, set agaze even love
Drawn so, ah that love might set me aflight
To be carried by the wings of a dove
Standing tall with passions affect tonight

Oh, ready to sooth thy sorriest grief
To have seen thy don thy answer sincerely
To have heard thee breathe a sigh of relief
Fain heart o'mine, and let eyne see clearly

Cowish, cowish no more, fain for thy *****
Awaiting thine sweet roses answer, glum.

in the temple at delphi

upon the steps afront

my crown of wire lay



a pile of birds

sat crossed in thirds

my lungs resigned in splay



phobos’ kiss afflicts with bliss

amongst the thistled dirt

the sowing of a new isle



what once was old

and now is true

are a bygone from the blue

The first time
I lost my mind,
The world seemed a destitute place.

The first time
I took it by force.
Left to fend with fiends

Furrowing through time,
Clawing at the day,
Dragging myself against the pull.

Life,
The introduction to
Something dark and true.

The second time!
I could stand no more
Of what I found before

Did not mean to come back,
Sometimes I think I didn’t,
Mulling in a mood grey and grave

The blue sky,
Once bubbly
Now looks blander

Circle of red.
Head of lead.
Lying in my bed.

The third
barely touched
Just scraped at chalk.

After that, I went away…
Opted out.
Nothing mattered.

There I sat in limbo.
Soured.
Dissasociated

Like an old car,
I sputtered,
Bore sitting and rusting.

Consumed.
Floating
Dead-eyed.

And how I laugh,
To say
That I am less

How I laugh-
To say that I am dying
To think that I am sloth

Sloth?
I am greed.
I am pride.

I am failure,
I am afraid-
Of everything.

I died some time ago,
Left company
Alone

So now I am back in the game.
And enigmatic.
Do I scare you?

Because I should.
I am terrifying
And cant be intimidated

I do not fear death,
I do not fear reprobation
But honestly?

I scare my self
And I am afraid of you too,
Fear is my super power.

Depression is my identity,
Something personal to me,
So-

So Welcome death,
Welcome fear!
Welcome Might.

You can’t comprehend me,
What it is to be free,
You have never died

Never writhed,
In fire,
You circuit.

I shan’t come out tonight,
Or any other
Night

But stand afront,
With twisted mind, bald and blunt
And I shall eat you…

That look-
Look down
Disgust

Divert your eyes,
But stand in my way,
And I shall eat you

Your eyes-
Coal,
Fresh grass

Red light
Yellow filter
Green eyes

Pain defies
Lies
Anguish flies

Panic stricken,
Anxiety driven
Rapture.

Quick- Look down now,
Holding back the wrath of Jessu,
This mouse will ******* eat you!

With open eyes, friends couldn't see
Beyond their tainted lungs and
                                    Blistered feet.
Their status shown upon the streets
No dreams to free ourselves of need.

A thicket afront an institution
Though it's meant to hide, I've grown.
My only fear and retribution
                                     To abandon ship
                                     To free my grip
And embrace anew, the new unknown.

Mediocrity is blending
Most of my words are garbage.
Consistantly being tested,
A mind silent, but never resting.

    But a note.
    But a pen.
    But a mark.
The story begins where it would arc.
Lost before the plot could thicken
The seams seem to tear the pages apart.

Kept to myself, ill hold my own
Fore my words are sharp,
                             And thoughts intruding.
Drifting further into the unknown
My only fear and retribution.

The Poetry Trial
  

Years were passing
Beginning with a full head of brown hair
Bald now scant gray hairs over his ears
Sitting afront the screen
Tirelessly typing in poems
All this time thinking that he communicated with other people
Little did he know
The whole operation was a scam
Run by the leprechauns
That's right  The little folk
All the feedback he thought was real
Was just a ruse set up by the faeries
A hyper-sensitive software system
Serving up canned responses from
Pre-programmed poets
Digital and centuries old.

i'm starting to really see it as the next Kenya,
the Maldives or some obscure care
for a seashell...
   exotica of an exile... funny how
there's no book entitled: the exile...
      oh the misery of the jew,
double afront with israel being met -
that there's the book of exodus,
   but there's no book of exile -
  czerwone korale!
   czerwone niczym wino!
korale z polnej jarzębiny!
i łzy dziewczyny wielkie łzy! -
i cite those words, to quote the unconscious,
to cite the primodal drive to
   a feeding to relocate to a
   shared ethnicity, nothing
to concern the spave voyage...
to craft global economy, and
cite Neil Armstrong...
   to be level headed, and to be of the earth
bound, and unto earth returned...
    best be readied to accept
morality, than dream-up immortality...
but i am a marriage...
i am but a marriage...
      i dance to a polonais, and i dance to
a viennese waltz! and i shout hey!
and i shout tango! too...
                 such that the song be folk,
and be the song of rowan...
          and given global affairs:
it's nothing but cheap, a care to huddle,
a care to hide...
   a care to ask for a tortoise shell
and equal worth of year upon year
to match up to the most deserved
  wise-men talk of immortality:
the żółw and the dąb:
   Mietek! pats na ten żółwidąb!
do tańca Mietek! do tańca!
na tron oko sokoła! nic po nas z tą
flegmą reszty, co o cycek
           świni maca pocałunek, i ssa dobytek!
pierdolone kuci kuci, hyda... mlask
takiej miłości! obfity w usta zamoczone
   w piździe i oleju. ach nie to!
dawaj panie! niech tym dodać
co nie jeden tchu hyd!
                 jak złodziej Tuwim...
  ja też pragne wtargać sie w tło Ęngliszczyzny;
ach nie tak...
            ratój panie Bank! ratój panie dynamo!
ratój panie swój ostatni włos!
a patem panie bij go panie,
         ten jedyny włos... o kłos!
a wtedy z takiego poczynania: wydób księge!

Caught in Webs
Wrapped in Silk
Save for supper
Mouth of Milk
babes to suckle
lest they wilt

Now know this is not so for some vacate the nest, no incubation needed, some born are ne'er to rest

Come now ~We move in Tandem
Take only what You need
Wha'st not the midnight Siren
Calling Us to heed
Catch not the hold of Silence
We march ahead indeed
The waves of Life may take us
Our song shall set us free

The spinning Spider gathers up cocoons of Young who choose to slumber amidst the rolling thunder ~ takes them under ~ this Time deemed best not be asleep

Come then, Run!
Run afront!
Come on high!
Be Awake
Let us Rise!
No more Weary!
No more lust for Greed nor Cowards
Let them lay for Spiders spin
Let the Web cast take them in!

and how the story ends depends if ever it does begin
~《 so does it 》~
**???

i believe in beauty.
i see it in the small blossoms clinging to trees as the sky gets bluer and the air warmer
and in the dry leaves scattered around the base of their trunks months later

i believe in beauty,
i see it in the human who desires what is pleasant,
the human who independently brings a touch more kindness into this world,
and in the human whose unanswered questions release a bitter child from within,
the human who hurts because they hurt.
how natural is it to be afraid existing in an unreasonable universe,
how natural to be tossed around the rolling and crashing waters of life
like a panicked cat.

i believe in beauty,
i see it etched into the surface of every hand written letter i’ve received
     and leaking out of my grandmother’s eyes when she remembers what she loved about
her son Thomas.
and he was beautiful too--
his eyes told the weather, they shone like the sun or darkened with a silent storm
and when he made music, the world stopped to listen to this foreign and wordless language
      he used to articulate what existed in his private corner of the universe.
he crumbled with the grace of a star:
      bright and alone,
his very existence still shining through the thick darkness of death, so natural and abstract a
      state

he is alive again when is Telecaster, so worn down from his constantly callused fingers,
      makes music again.
he is alive when his brother and daughter stand together afront his grave,
      arms around each other with teary eyes because it hurts to love someone
      whose eyes you don’t get to see anymore
he is alive in my eyes when i can feel the years he spent in my grandmother’s basement
       making an old piano sound young again--
i know this because i see him there

i believe in beauty,
i see it in death because i remember my father's life, i remember the blossoms
that preceded the dry leaves scattering the base of tree trunks

i don’t care much for attention
never was one for boisterous acts afront large audiences
i keep to myself
like a lily in the water
drifting ever-so carefully
but then again
why am i writing this?

In sullen spaces night by night you keep your eyes
Those seducing hopes and a darker mind than mine,
You see yourself a pure, wise madonna,
But there you are, a shadow in some evil webs.

Overseas I summon you for innumerable times
You fill your ears with flesh and Sunday dreams,
I’ll drown you when your clippers meet
My loving arms you used to care.
I have been blessed with another chance
You ate your parts, thousands of souls,
Far away in the murmur of the air you breathe
You better run, faster than a bullet; as you know,
I never sensed a bit of fear
Even if it were to be buried afront, so close,
I’ll take a sip from you, a black widow wine.