inside
with warm
heat, the oak leaves
seem sparkly
gold, but outside
in the chilled air,
they appear
more amber brown
against
the steel
blue skies. it must be
mother nature's
prismatic gift
to present
iridescent colors
to restless human eyes,
the same leaves drifting
among
the scarlet maple
tree fronds,
which
from inside
look black
as blood.

REQUIEM
We are frail and faulted creatures
each of us set to implode as designed
never to know, when, where or why,
subjected to a random act of violence
of Time in medias res...
but we are feeling creatures
of a tender heart and a knowing mind,
interlocking souls whose spirits intertwine
and when one of us dies, a part of us
must die too..

Spreading his mighty wings,
the eagle leaves the proud peacock,
still strutting around, boasting
his colourful feathers on an old rock
while he embraces the sky
to witness the vast land
through heaven's eyes.

Let the peacock basks in glory,
seeing only what he wants to see.
The wise eagle knows better
than to waste time in idle chatter
when there is so much more to see
and learn beyond a peacock's beauty.

MELODIES

I hear music, soft and sweet,
voices shedding lost tears.
flowing like a mist into my heart
and tearing my soul apart.
melodies of forsaken days
come crashing in stealing
me away from Time
to wander in streams of yesterday.
my heart sickens with longing
to be as I was then

a shadow lays across
the dream
cool like a love
oppressed
coiled like a hiss
as far as the mist
a clouds kiss

...

Didn't God make me to survive?
Didn't He make you, and I
to find our way through,
and didn't He make me
to find my way to you?

Why do I sit here so depressed and beaten
when the ants and the birds,
the elephants, grass, and even trees
all survive?
Like they've been doing for
billions of years.

No matter what
we were made to live
you and I.
The good Lord made us to survive,
and I've got no time
to debate that.

spike time
wavelength sync slick
like a cigarette burned
flic
greasy theatre atmosphere
tropicmesopotamia
like the old shirts
from mediteranean
heel worn boot
slick
thick air
like downtown
meatships
the ivory clouds
above needles
towers
scraping
dreams
where angels scrawl
their visions in chalk
the valkries at dephi
see bisions but dont
talk
and the sign at the
corner hums
Walk n' Don't Walk

"I'm the lord of the sky!",
so says the fly.

The little prick irritates
the cows and their mates.

He buzzes at the cat
who ignores the brat.

When an old toad appear,
he trembles in fear.

The long tongue strikes
and gives him a fright.

He's gone in the blink of an eye
without saying goodbye.

The relieved cats and cows sigh,
marks the end to the reign of the fly!