The naked girl wiped semen
off her lower lip,
the man yanked his belt
and buckled.
The naked girl smelled
her middle finger tip,
the man tied the laces
of his shoes.
The naked girl twisted
a lock of her hair,
the man clipped on his watch
and checked the time.
The naked girl sank low her head
and clapped her feet,
the man had just closed the door.

Your Wisdom of time surpasses mine...
Time can never stand still...
even for a moment...
so we live moment to moment
momentarily...
and
Time passes by you and me...
as we two stand solitarily...
in this vast wilderness....
as time does flee

no one does or shall care for neither you nor me...
as we both in time become obscure...
now no entity...
we were perhaps
but now no more

A white lily sunrise
brings the malaise,
humid dreams shimmer
off the blackening tar

Red dust girates an axis
dark matter is overcome,
lethargy drags the body
into a blazing bright sun

Work, a joke on labouring men
each day drains into the next,
without a dropping of heaven
without a wisp of air, no respite

The incessant heat hoards air,
the smell of rain on a breeze,
nothing but a cruel memory
as the earth bakes golden

Mr Ferntree wept in the kitchen,
for a million lost souls
he never knew, but read about
or heard of on the radio, washed up
on languid green shoals

The lichen, saxicoline creeping
through his walled garden,
"Keeps them out, those runts want mine"
he eyed his rhubarb crop
with rubbed red pride

It's pink promise and green poison
they would never get through, though somehow
he envied them, like the fish in his emerald pond
in their harsh, short fates,
lives in brutality

All roses now we

But all roses have thorns
it's
not a rose
if has them clipped ere the fall
and
Marriage is not
a bed of roses at all
it takes away all liberties
many fail to use condoms
and beget only kids
poor economy

that is why in West
most live- in
carry kids
both gals and guys
else the hubby flies

Now he is tied down to you
the one time Rose
And with kids
selfies he does also pose
so as to your confidence repose
and continue to say

Never forget those, furnace blown
in the black mills of war

Some may forget the poets, and
all that came before

But I can't ignore the mystery,
and sup at the ornate cup for more

Like a ritual libation, burning through-
you continually regret, yet relish

Its singular pleasures and the
sublime shock that gets

You every time you read Thomas,
as a sunrise, mirrors sunset

The world may forget the poets,
As in its dark folds falls

over 6 months deleted

In the depth of my darkness
Sound, language and understanding
Are lost to a deaf silence
My hearing is non existent
I cannot articulate one utterance
Of understanding my self-incarceration.

There is an ambiguity in my self-destruction
For I am not empathetic to my past pain
Or of future acknowledgement of my self-healing
Blinded from self-loathing
I recognizing no love reciprocated
In these moments there is only self-obliteration.

In the end
gold and silver will not last
but true knowledge
inherited by the living
will shine in glory
beyond this mortal life.