This precisely is the secret hour, that brings to an end
of the long wait of patient bats, now let them ecstatically mate,
mind, wakes up from stupor,in creative instinct,becomes a ******,
though peering in to own hidden shadows, from a pantomime past.
Silence of many shades reign in the mansion of magic beyond space,
along the labyrinthine inner corridor, lighted seldom or even never.

The dark nimbus clouds above, purge, thunder roars,victorious,
outside the cave rain in torrents lashes, winds whistle like possessed,
heart fills with an urge urgent,words fumble to express with verve,
blind bats, hanging upside down, wake all at once, shaking wings,
they arise creating a cacophony,then the transformation is quick,
what results is a frenzied ****** fight for colored words to mate.

The pairs suited most, in the crowded cave , intuitively selected,
commandeered, brought together, merged perfectly, without effort,
blending with the rare beauty of light filtering in, striking images
of different hues appear on the screen, moving pictures of creation.

Everything is still here except,a fecund sense, awareness in fire,
thoughts are in a churn, turn towards the starlit firmament,
and fertile red earth doused in the scent new rain roused,
blue water expanses, rippling moves as waves after waves
all finally settle, mind's creative pool now, is a placid reservoir.

Astonished he is, by the immortality of words, that acquire
an escape velocity to project, shoot up through the clouds,
it's payload, is carried by a  fuel, alchemy created propellant,
that ensures poetic transcendence,the fused golden words live long.

The creative moments, are pure  wonder, when within the folds
of primordial sound,he waves silk blending it with golden threads,
The poet becomes the word first and the word speaks through  him,
poem is a canal perennial,for the flow of desire, hope and pain concealed deep,all projected by the  mind continuum that never sleeps.

+
A bed-sits high and dry,marooned on a sandbank of night.
As  radio 4-casts its nets to isolated ships like me that rudderless drift on into the light.

Still dark outside,no sounds,save the distant echoing bark of a hungry fox ----streets away.
Another dawn ripped blackbin bag of a day creeps and ouzes in

Heavy unfocused lids fogged in the steamy smokeyness of tea and a first ***    
plenty of time            plenty of time.
Time before the world wakes to the morning pips and its flushing, brushing, rushing sounds

A greyness gathers just beyound my pained curtains, as with a silent sigh a roosted blackbird clears its fasted throat.

Then as if by magic I 'm carried, scimming high above and beyound this mooring set in a silvered sea,on a welcomed mantra known to all.

As if a calling pray at day break,following each word in a moment subline
               Un angle vole                                                          un angle vole.

Rockall - Malin - Hebrides
         Humber - Fisher - German bight
               Thames - Dover - Wight.

Each single secert understood and noted only by a few as I glide over in paced, pausey surf rolling words

North northeast - 994 - Falling slowly - Low pressure moving away - Gales 8 very poor - Backing 3-4 later - Mainly good - Becoming variable - Syclonic later - Increasing 6-7 mainly west - Swally showers for a time - Fair - Good.

Oh so good, each pure English comforting sounds heard over lapping waves of air.

The bushy wet nosed fox sulks and cowers away from the breaking sun, as the blackbird draws a dewdropped breath though golden nib and tapping gently, call a hidden choir into song just for me.

Reminding me of the things I'd for gotten I care about.

Sharp timed unwelcomed pips flood the ears to prise open sticky eyes from promised dreams and spoon-cuddles warm
As I set forth on wetted pavements, ready to decline into my charted day.  

Yet smiling as if blessed and no longer alone
            But filled with early morning salty thoughts of strangers
        
                  I
                     have
                                yet
                                       to
                                            meet

Gazing south as if some wise, well worn fisherman,leaning against the wroughted railed pier in all its victorian, gordy, standing, splendor.

Warmed and held by the summer sun as close as shared spoon-cuddled arms.

On thermal  air, calls and laughter rise from towelled steaked plots
blinding and shading the razor sharp hungry sea-gulls eye from flakey white flesh in all its golden battered salt-shuck sharpness,
competeing on the nose with hand-held melting creamyness, as they waft and weave gently by.

Below the slatted sound , the magic hypnotic spell of lapping waves lift and tilt me on a day dream of youthful lost love.

To a day we made our sun run in all its lazyness, dimming the enviour moon in its wake and kissing still the hands on the pasty-face black towering clock
                                          As time slipped way and was some where else.

With worn drift wood and tingleling toes you defaced the sand with a graphity the council tryed but couldn't erace.
And there it lies still, benieth the smooth pebbled shore,
                                                          ­                                                           kissed each day with salty tears and remembered sighs.

A fearful screaming siren pieces the soft English air, Its doppled blast, chilling,  pushing, demanding its screeching way through the brain, to some others pained, tear filled day,
                                                            ­                                then fades on the breeze.

A sun blushed child frowns through pink Brighton rock lips and eyes as blue as the sea, a secert smile is shared as if in that innocence I knew  that one magic day she will run on skipping painted toes and giggles sweet to etch for him in soft blank sand her love on this dreamy day beach.

So off the sea and off the pier I strole, absorbed and lost among the tripping faced crowd,into the sun dipped west and home alone.

Yet knowing you will remain forever mine, held in crystal dimonded grains, whilst around the bitter -sweet changing tides ebb and flow          
                     down
                                       through
                                                          the  
­                                                                 ­  years.

Best friends until the end
Well our time is was on an extend
I am starting to apprehend
That all you are is pretend

I never thought you would stab me in the back
That hurt worse than a smack
Your heart is black
You are on the wrong track

Did I ever know you?
Was everything you said untrue?
You use to be the one I ran to
I wish you felt the pain you put me through

I could write a book of the lies you told
And there would be millions sold
Espically your secert that I left untold
But my I am not uncontroled

You should be more wise
You have all these allies
From all your lies
I hope someone knocks you down to size

You may be the poor victim right now
Even thought I was the one that disavowed
But don't forget now
Someday karma will hit you with a pow

If you were lonely, or sad inside
Right next to you is where I'd be till the day I die.
I'd walk the 286 miles, from Bakersfield to Vegas
They would all laugh, but I would be shameless.
You are a great friend, one that cannot be replaced
My time with you, would not be put to waste.
Staying up all through the night
sitting in the dark without a light
Writing this poem, just for you
Hoping you will love this too
Those weeks we spent in a hellish place
I'd exchange for just a simple taste
To hold you close, never let go
To be the string, that holds your bow
To fight for you, hold your sword and shield
With only my heart in my hands to wield
I will try my best, to not let you get hurt
I'd pick you up, and dust off the dirt
For if you fall, it will be into my hands
I'd carry you across the sands
So Rosey Rosey come out to play
I won't be the one who betrays.
You know a secert of me noone else knows
One that I do not let show
But I am glad that you now know
I feel like I don't need to hide
Everything I am inside
Rosey Rosey Come out to Play
By your side is where I stay
waiting for you outside your home
Never leaving you alone
So Rosey Rosey, come to me
I want to give you a key
One that leads into my heart
One that can't be broken apart.
My shoulder is yours for your tears
Protecting you from all your fears
I will not allow you to fall back down
To the hole that is in the ground.
I will lend my helping hand
Pick you up to help you stand
Hoping that I can make you glad
So please cheer up, don't be sad
I promise that your smile will be real
Always stating how we feel.
So Rosey Rosey, open up
I will never let you up
I will give you all my time
So you know that you are mine.

Who am I?
Little speck in vast enternity
Unknown in shadows past
Seen but not known, heard
Hard to rember and easy to forget

To be honest I am something but nothing
Everywhere and nowhere
Amorphous, free falling, solid
Tangible, intangible
Beyond comprehension
A Shape
Nothing more
Simple
Things
Stay with us

But there has always been a spark
Within these worried twisted guts
Anxiety that amounts to woethlessnes
Burried deep within worries
Will I ever be good enough for me?

Fear has away of creeping past hidden
Feathers aren't ment for flight without wings
Feet remain grounded firm on soil
Comfortable in the element of earth
Higher means further to fall
I've fallen enough

Some times I wonder what my silence is worth
Words have been measured enough
Grades and intelligence exploited too much
Self-worth has gone down and anxiety up
Sleep's been found precious since we get such small supply
Our own heads are worth more
Life's become complicated again
Does anyone ever truly listen to my silence?
To those lonely songs I sing inside my head
When the day is over and dead

But there's a fire within me
Hidden volcano burried deep enough
Aries, the ram, burning blistering fire sign
I know my mettle, know inside the quiet strength
One middle school day, one bully trying to hurt a freind
Charged right in ready to defend
"Don't listen to her, she's just a.....idot."
Pushed from behind for that

They say I'm soft and gentle
The quiet one, the innocent one, the cute one
Maybe I am but that's not all
Not a blank slate for others to draw

In the words of May B.
Caroline Starr Rose
"So many things
I know about myself
I've learned from others.
Without someone to listen,
to judge,
to tell what to do ,
and to choose
Who I am,
do I get to decide for myself?"

Who am I?
She wasn't where she had been
She wasn't where she was going
But she was on her way
Darling to you who am I?
You asked a simple question of me,
Wanted me to bear my bones
Expose my truest heart
Show the contents of my multicolored soul
Questions aren't so easy are they?

Who am I?
There's no answer I can give
No words to fashin into sentences
Who's to really know the looker?
Not the characters she plays nor those who think they're closer
A secert not worth knowing but always kept
A deviation that's all she is

To whom it May Concern,
If dont have the spirit to disrcen.
You will not be able to understand us or learn.
We can take you to the point of no return.
Just as the skin being torched by sun, you can feel the burn.

You feed into us Everyday.
Especially when you listen to what other people say.  
Like shiny new toys, on your heart and mind we will play.
More often than not we will have you feeling some type of way.
Like obstacles you face in your walkway to overcome us you must pray.
We are like the waves of the oceans
Moving you left to right, upside down and round and around in a pattern of commotion.
Like a force we direct your feelings as the  river's current that causes a hostile motion.
We tend to change like the weather we have no devotion.
We can be magical or posionous like spells to secert potions.
Sincerely Your,
Emotions

She's always been a shifer
A faceless creature lurking behind the scenes
A thousand guises to pain over the
Grey canvas of colors adorning

In the web she's spun, she's no spider
Only a dancer on the strings she's strung
Oh many know her where the forest dwells
Though no one sees her

A flick of a hand brings new features
She speaks through many throats and tounges
There's many hands that claim to match
But only one fingerprint remains

Who's to really know the looker?
Not the characters she plays nor those who think they're closer
A secert not worth knowing but always kept
A deviation that's all she is