no rhyme no reason, simple wants, immediate pleasure

 1.  no rhyme, no reason when the full metal jacket no longer fits


we write a little song
and walk on the wild side
now and then
we put little pieces of ourselves
back together again, explosions
of insight and misfits
juxtapositioning
for the remains of the day,
wondering how it is
just as much as how it happens,

and the preponderance of snow
falling is mostly a distillation totally
inappropriate
we never really know when we're well
off enough;
an errant seed falls
into the thick of things
with an incredible need to feel

and it can't be done,

but once in awhile, when all else is gone,
a butterfly sits on our poem,
and there's no rhyme or reason,

nothing is quite the same.




2.  simple wants, immediate pleasure



to open my eyes before dawn
and hear the sunrise in birdsong,
to plant a tree nearby
to which he can fly,
to watch the colours fade the blue hours,
pink and peach,  then to spun gold,
then to skies of brilliant blue,
to entertain the seasons of the heart
outside in the landscape of time as it
passes by my window;
inside my feelings I open like a rush
of fresh air, scented with the honeysuckle
and the rose.

To love and be loved, to watch the sunset
turn, to never never turn away,
to give thanks for another day.


~