The iron soul
with its palette
The Lion footed
beast

The rain slicks back
the slate
To gas fed times
And in the Oaks
once tiny are the
arms of giants
striving in the dark
orchestra strong

So large a room
the great height
windows
ceilings with black
brass on chains
reaching down
like thoughts and
clouds in the
din of environment
The television lonely
in a narrow room
cries hauntedly
Like a lighthouse
of blue hope

long, top-down drives
even shirtless tans
sweet strawberry-kisses and
glorious watermelon stains

laughter lifting through the trees
glimpses of sun-blest promises
sugar-coated whispers
catching in the breeze

fruit bowls, waterholes
and refreshing icy poles
interlacing fingers share
starry nights and lazy days

In Sommersby of Lincolnshire,
On sixth of August, in the year
Of eighteen O nine, there appear'd,
To be in history rever'd,
A gift to poetry's bouquet.
To English middle-class was born
The future Baron Tennyson,
Who was to flower, and become
The poet Laureate.

You always perplexed me with notions of romanticism
like the lamps of Paris
as they cast doubtful shadows on cobble pavements
as the mysterious lull of midnight serenaded the air

Let me drive now, down alleys
of narrow nostalgia, under bridges
of notions, disproven, yet beautiful non-the-less
if only for this moment, this point in time

For to love is to lose
and I thought my stubborn fingers
would never part from your coarse skin
as we sat beneath the stars

A gem of Japan
from Matsuyama City,
shining in Tokyo
rejected in politics,
triumphant as a writer

Minutes mustered
laying listening the the hits of
every drop
Torrential like winds of shouts
an audience in darkness
the strikes of hands
an ocean of rising noise
Then silence

There's a yearning Darling
my eyes reflect blue flames
burning with the fires of regret,
thoughts fly to foreign soil
watching steps fall upon it
divorced from my land,
they once mirrored mine

Like Alice in Wonderland
slipping into another realm
the first discovery, felt joy
but a great expectation was
disillusioned in desires hands
introduced to disappointment
I greeted it again, with despair

coronete
helio dogs in stratus shine
guard your wingtip
edge folded
Books of promises
Unkempt
weeping petals
from the stems
these marble
shrines
our playplace
written secrets
with wax pens
...