It's funny to build a tower
Only to play in the ashes
Three times the picture shattered
I'll gather the shards
And make myself a mosaic

If i failed to warn you
run from me then
There is a consequence true
for sins we share with them
In cities and crowded towns
you will find demons in humans
they are unseen and abound
they will paint good bad
and make you love evil
they will say lust is cool
that frolicking in it is civil
then they will hug you
you will dress like them
loving their every style
hardly ashamed like them
and you fail to see the sign
that you are sliding away
faster than you imagine
doing the same again
vanity becomes your sin
hell your objective
held down and lost
unknowingly you worship it
confused and so burnt
does it ever come to you
that somehow you are used
for they are not seen
they leap from soul to soul

We own a pond;
mottled bluebottle,
flecked in freckles
when the sunlight
skims the surface
between the moss.

I dip a finger inside
and stir. A nebula
swills, swirling like
a whisk of spilt oil
from a water spot
sometimes found
underneath a car.

My fist plunges in,
embalming a gulp;
moss bandages
around the orb that,
withdrawing in drips,
I see a new world
set alight upon it.

A small skiff drifted in the harbor
guided by the eazy oars of a fisherman
standing in the hull to better view
the shimmering reflection
of the orange circle hovering overhead-
dancing with the gentle waves
in the morning mist.

Monet had to name it something
so he called it what it was:

          "Impression, soleil levant."

A critic, wanting poison for his pen,
seized Monet's title to squeeze
a lethal dose into the radical veins
of the artist and his fellows of the gallery

          (Renoir, Pissarro, Cezanne).

With scathing indignation
he dubbed the lot of them,

           "Mere Impressionists."

The label endures (minus one word)
but how many recall or care to know
the righteous critic's name?

*November, 2011

There are five types of people
you can find in a market.
Some are there to buy, simple
some never find anything correct
some want to just hop around
from this shop to that shop
some are there just to meet friends
nothing to do what all fashion trends
hanging out, chilling at a wrong place
like on this planet, the whole of human race

I am here, just to admire, the beauty
expressed by these clothes, flesh and diversity
someone's curves, something's color
smile of a sweet girl, captivating like no other
the fit of her fancy dress, the way she walks
her bare legs moving to this catchy tune
like on a sunlit dessert, golden rays
silhouetted on the sand dune.
They say not to look at girls in that way
why do they dress and make up
if no one is there to appreciate it, I say
please do not mistake me for a ***** pervert nuisance
as I am here just to be happy, in utter silence
for its a market, and not a field of violence.