What if one was a witness to a crime
Ordered by a rogue leader from the past
And Justice staff would not spend any time
To prosecute, leaving victim aghast

What if the rogue not pleased with live victim
Sent officials to ensure victim’s death
Sickly rogue hoped to have vigour and vim
But fought panic and chronic pain in stealth

With protective layer feuding and frayed
Internal dissension and mounting din
Ruling forces increasingly arrayed
Baying for blood for political sin

Imagery and constancy
are two leading visions
wait, watch and see
what happens next

The body is just a vessel
a mode of transportation
some say it houses a soul
but I am not quite fully solde(Frenchy)

I wonder
what the doctors need to say
is paradise really fourteen days away
(today is the thirteenth
no Paradise yet seen)

let me wait as many days
having come over seventy years
this way
holding my breath all the way
won't let the Docs take it away

many leaves drifted
gently touching ground zero
without any shout

barely anyone noticed
soon winds of change arrived

birds and their offspring
were mute witness to the fall
from a trembling branch

by instinct they chose to move
in search of a new abode

in script after script
on pages that got flipped
new poems were writ

but none stayed there forever
making way for next of kin

the now becomes then
like is summer to the fall
spring lets winter thaw

she was
his glory
which he
wore so
well
in her
he rejoiced
through him
she was sublime
together
they drew ecstasy
with each
breath

You eat well and transcribe in place of dictation
You brush quickly in the morning
You only slander in your self defense
You manufacture praise
You can only dream of dreaming in a workshop
You get up, shower, and check your messages
You upload and download solitude
You network, correspond, advance
You write preening, agreeable statements
You excuse difficulty as aberrant
You wash come off quickly
You cut and paste
You transgress till transgress transgresses
You drink bottled water and monitor headlines

I hypnotized the dream doll it came yesterday
The soft pickle hands, the big eyes
I could touch its dreaming
Its hands gnarled
In a vacant hothouse strewn with metal orchids.
It came with a dream catheter miles long, uncouth
It was there I began to worship I could hear it breathe
I came to be the templar
A vanguard for hollowness
It was a matter of looking after—
I was there the night the eyes opened
glowing as a marquee rotten with light
The pink lids grew swollen
I felt the vegetable heads bloom.

You are my fire
But I feel like a fire truck

You are my water
But I feel like a commercial fisherman

You are my wind
But I feel like a great great wall

You are my earth
But I feel like a bulldozer

You are elemental
And I feel like the opposite
Of a key

I can’t open you
And as much as I try
I can only put you
In this
Anti-song

Let's get unstuck,
you and I
and change our routine.

Today
we can fix the things
that are broken.
Or at least we can start.

All it takes
I believe
are a few steps,
and a clearing of my mind.

And if the wind doesn't wake you
you won't be disturbed.

He has but to think on beauty,
and melodies of the nightingale
flutter through his mind; the rose
rises up to kiss his lips, and share
with him her intoxicating aurora;

the lullaby of his mother rocks him
in a cushion soft womb; and stars
bow their light playfully to his eye;

essence permeates the calmness
undulating to the slightest wave.