drape your cold around my shoulders
squint my eyes, daring dark
pound your thunder into my moan
brazen my heart with lightning bolts

temper me mean
stoic, and hard

aloof from this
quiet desperation

The years gnaw away at the coastal fringe
Some cling, ringed and wretched, then fall
Others girth fear, then backwards they lurch
With their progeny, facing the wall

Was that guardian of time banal,
Right in predicting that all
Would succumb to the legacy given
And bequeath the pall darkened sea?

Boiling below, and biding its time
For those unborn migrants
Scrambling for land
Never free

Who dealt us this hand?
Did we foreshadow it?
Building bright spires
Lighting signal fires

They are building the structrures..the grown tied off gingerbread men
and work slow ungecomes where the heroes of old put their thick band
of worth against their cock on an elastic..

someone knocks
its for your head
your old lady
your stash
or your bread

of its just business

hired up on the shit
finding cooking moments
my baby could shoot me between the eyes
if she had too
but she loved me

The silence of the night broken
by a joyous Christmas carol
and the sound of santas' bells ,
bringing cheer to the world.
In the warm Christian houses
families gather,bearing gifts.
The air filled with joyful laughter,
beautiful moments are conceived

Outside an old man walks alone,
peering at their christmas trees,
wishing that he had a home.
The cold winter chills his poor bones
he heads to a nearby shelter
where others like him seek refuge
from the unforgiving weather.

Between dawn and dusk
a lot happens in our world
is night a reprieve?

the moon keeps up the vigil
till the sun rises again

you are sunlight on ice.
the cold slowly melts away from me
and warmth is all that's left

you are blue sky
through charred and blackened clouds
despite thick layers of pollution you are brilliant.

The trees are (turning) into leaf
Like (words) almost being said
The recent buds (grow) and spread
Their greenness is a kind of grief

Is it that they are (young) again
And we (growing) old? No, they (aged) too
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain

Yet still the unresting (wild) thresh
In fullgrown (on) every May
Last year (sweet) (dreams) they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, (afresh)

The trees are blossomed into leaf
Like poesy almost being said
The recent buds grow dark and spread
Their greenness is a kind of grief
Is it that they are young again
And we so old? No, they age too
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain
Yet still the unresting will thresh
In fullgrown bloom every May
Last year is dead they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.