It's all in the eyes
as I watch you disguise
the pain that you’ve left at home
as you drone out the rest of the world

in a catatonic state
blank from emotion as of late
screaming out without a noise
while you sit in your chair with poise

the perfect illusion

They are saturated
Dripping wet
Like they have been under water for a long time
Wetter than a watermelon they are
50¢ each

Raining down everywhere
Autumn tastes bittersweet by the river.
I want to paint the land in abstract
Subtle lines of a new day.
To delight and inebriate the few that call for courage.
But a whisper of cloud takes forever to appear.
And dead leaves are piled up in corners blown by a strange wind.
I wonder, what keeps them there?

The shallow water of the River Fen flows to impress,
But the warmth has now gone.
A heart sunk in mourning and bleakness comes without sound.
I see the couples walk by hand in hand, unaware of the bitter
sweet breeze that blows from winters harsh advance.

The old man walks alone days of youth in his heart,
But he looks back without sadness, without nostalgia.
A life simplified of images, and now he is able to
comprehend the world.
But who wants to know this?

As for me, I will keep on drifting away,
Or break up into many parts,
But I remain who I am!
Searching for you in this land of drifting souls.

Speak only when you have something useful to say-
do not speak to draw attention to yourself

Is it a fact?
If not, what is it?

(Palindrome)

"Su, position sum in Animus!"  
"No, it is opus"

"A morning, is a sign in Roma

put in way I am in Anima,"
I yawn it up

"Saw title bar off, or a belt it was?"

"I did wonder evolved demand
Or a rod named Dev?"
"Love red now, did I?"

"Evil stab, as a bats live"

What if it doesn't snow
how then will we know that
it's Christmas?
baubles and bangles that dangle
don't mean much
without that touch
of magic.

But
the homeless hope less for the snow
and more for the Sun,
I understand the predicament
they are in,

bin surfing is
like sofa surfing
except in bins for food and
not on sofa's for sleep

I keep that in mind
still hope for snow though

does that make me unkind?
I don't know.

January again
And I'm already counting down the days til the next one
Already made enough mistakes in a matter of days
Febuary I'm so done with the rain and the  pattering on the window pain
It's march again
Another year older but I feel more or less the same and not much wiser
Continuing counting down the days
Maybe I'll learn a lesson or two along the way
And learn to line what I think and what I say
April,May
There's nothing much to say just a reminder of the wasted days and praying next year won't turn out the same
June, July
Summer time
I'll just watch and wait inside
November  in sight
Just more sitting and waiting inside
I missed my bus but you know how I get when I write loose all concept of time
December is here met by a cheer
This year it might turn out alright