I hope someday to write a perfect sonnet
instead of this absurd excuse for meter,
with gentle touch of elegance upon it
and not insipid rhymes as brain cells peter.
Another time I’ll switch on my computer
then type away to keyboard’s friendly clicks,
I’ll finish with a flourish, a sharpshooter,
no longer this dispenser of old tricks.

But maybe I am still a hapless dreamer
whose trite expressions drone to no effect,
a man without a muse, a hopeless schemer,
still not an ounce of talent to detect.

On a night such as this,
when the moon is low
and the air hangs heavy
with summer scents.
When the night noises whisper
and the firefly dances,
now is the time
when dreams and fancies
slip our minds
unfettered and free
no more reined in
unconsciously.
To visit loves and past romances
buried hopes and second chances
what might have been,
what is to come
the good, the bad
the plain humdrum.
Until light breaks
each takes form
but will vanish swiftly

When the ink of my life expires,
don't let my tale be cast aside
to gather dusts in the passing time,
a memory which slipped
from the mind.

Let my experiences be shared
so that others will gain wisdom
and have the chance to avoid
the wrongs I've chosen to do,
in the folly of my youth.

If there is goodness I have done,
let it be replicated,
so that all may attain the rewards
which the deed
has generated

nue walk
on the old bloc
Walkman wires
against the
cool of her
terms
spillway music
in her soul

the spires glitter
with the sun
fighting a battle
with the storm

Its losing

summer is fading
darkening on
its softness
like a rose
neglected

Toddlers' walking is hell unleashed
lurching and swaying with arms outreached
like zombies in a deathless quest
to feed upon a living breast.

Tumbling, stumbling, rising again,
they cannot be restrained.
Crawling or scooting if they must,
driven by insatiable lust.

The smell of one as it draws near
sweeps your soul with dreadful fear.
Breath of death from puke and drool,
noxious fumes from frightful stools.

I miss you my son
more than you know,
this heartache inside
darling daily it grows

I know what happened
to drive us apart,
I'll never stop grieving
I've made it an art

I've loved forever
and always I will,
even when my heart
is laying dead still

The little boy who hung
on each of my words,
clung to my skirt
till it was absurd

I miss every moment
that we've lost,
I miss your face
this distance has cost

You yelled at me.

I was wearing a dry cloak of humour
made from ideations,
as I sat there,
assaulted, by you, my best friend.

Angry at me.

Publications, College acceptations.
Things you had worked hard for,
that had just fallen into my lap.

Perhaps it was your jealousy, or the realisation,
that having me as a friend was not such a good friend to have at all, that finally sent you off the edge.

a fan like a blur daisy whirls
in a bathroom clean
flourescent lights bathe
walls in curious mystery
DOORS tune.."Riders on the Storm"
wails
a mournful dirge
drawing words through
the torpid thick humidity
dusty and jarred with
tension

I watch a spider tiny crawl
on popcorn ceiling
a television growls
downstairs

dog dreams fitful
whinning kicking
legs twitching muscle
running from primal
senses

Jim sings
"yahhhhhh"

At times
silence
is valued much more
you know why

just place a hand
on her /his shoulders
it conveys

Silence alone speaks
a tear falls
love is spread
between two souls
yours and hers/his

silence at times
is bliss
more than a peck
a kiss
silence is!