Goodbye
to the many faces of
Rickman...

Seagull
and Rasputin,
Les Liaisons Dangereuses
and lost but not lost Hitchhiker,
Diehard winter guest and
Sheriff of Robin's Hood;
the voice of God &
something the lord made;
Abeselom, the caterpillar
smoking
in private lives:
the close shave
of a demon barber,
Serverus Snape,
Mark Antony
and all good men
or by far, none.

Dark robed physicians
walk among the dead and dying
long beaked noses stuffed with garlic
stifles the putrid poisionous stench
consoling and pacifiying the doomed
painfull black pustules bursting
abandoned by all, only the devoted stay
they do not sleep, only weep burying their
tears with the dead,. all flesh and hope
taken by the awful reaper</p>

Once a week I take a long walk from my home
To the land of the dead and lay flowers on top of your stone
For hours and hours I stay and I pray
Telling you I love you and I'll see you again someday
you were my everything you were my world
The love of my life my baby girl
I didn't see it coming it happened so fast
One second were driving and all of a sudden crash
Before we departed you looked at me and laughed
You said good by that you loved me then started to gasp
Before the police got there I knew that I was done

Not tomorrow

Who knows about a tomorrow
I only know of today
come love me now
without any sorrow
why my precious time
you want to borrow

tonight is all I can promise today
who knows whether the sunrise
will come my way
so tonight only I can promise
the whole night long I will stay

who knows about tomorrow
we may not live that day
why doubt me of my love I pray
'twill be another day

ARISE
fighting the dense thick dream troposphere
the wood panelling
the lush wide fenders and paint fleck
of a time woe begone
octane and omissions

shoes I remember lacing
thrown out
replace
when my age was
twenty/ thirty years
younger
and yet

I am still the same
grey eyed ghost
in the mirror

JOE STAY WITH NEO

You plan to leave
a heavy heart within me
can you not leave your poetry
not 'Unpublished'
for many to see

I and many more
will read as tears flow
from the bottom of my heart
sad to know
there is left no more glow
but you know
I know
the time has not yet come so

we will continue to read you
even if the laps top keys
don't tap along
with your knuckles nor knees
we will continue to read your
inimitable poetry....

I've lost track of days,
dry and rolling one to next
waiting for that pregnant tick
of life unloading on tin roof.

A birth then, of darkening sky
gathering steady growing drips:
the truth, voluminous in dark pall,
our sky explodes whetted words.

And the yellow starving stalks
that lust for rain, shall lack no more,
deluge bereft
and green shall rise again.

And the slow, rasping grief
of this land will leave us-
the baking, barking dogs
and scratching hand rejoice.

Would-be
heroes and star men, rainbow serpents
and young Americans
knocking on death's door. Listen to the
bones speaking with alligator teeth as they
tear themselves from flesh. Listen to life's
musical interpretation of atoms floating
somewhere in stardust.

Where lies your grave, my king?
My heart, it bleeds for you
when birds no longer sing.

Your knights, still live, but few.
They're lost without your will
They hide to plan anew.

Poor Merlin's hands are still
His staff is broken now
and Camelot is ill.

The mage will not allow
the witch to find your grave
She strikes to make him bow
but Merlin stands, so brave.

It is cold outside
Another polar vortex
Hangs over our land.

Hidden away in my room
I watch early morning news.