Roll Roll Roll this flow gently down a beat Merrily merrily merrily merrily Life ain't what it seems

Had a dream last night not as great as Martin Luther's The Love of my life was correcting Karma Sutra

While I was making this rhymes I was on the inside of my love stroking at a double time

Shes's the best I'm like stereo record I'll confess I'm the best at what I do I've been blessed

To write poetry Blessed to write this story Blessed to display lyrics

the snow is falling softly behind the tree in the window
and you could easily guess what I think about now
it's always the same.
yes, she would like this. curled up on the couch with me.
I keep saying that I want to know
I want to know when I won't think these things anymore.
but I will leave it at that for today.
for today, I want you to know
that I know I was stupid.
I want you to know that I will stop listening to little birds
and my angry heart.
I think you know that for me, at least

darkly filled
abrasive edge
cloaked in shadow
a lacy web

spidery fingers
cold of touch
holding tight
needy
for love

craving
yet raising
and waving a shield
deflecting
denying
all who would kneel

for history's fist
retains its grip

and a heart
once broken
becomes
such as this

sparks we shone
brilliant
drawing heads
and doubts

throughout the jealousies
and envious hooks
we stole the pages
of each's book

sharpening like a skill
this trade
we flattened and dulled
the tempered
haze

Its winter now
fulfilled
and late
we throw the walls
kick stones
in spate

how we crowned
the victories
being first
drawing further
lost
further tossed
till we
are lastly

lost

If you follow The Creek, from The Pond, to the west,
turn north once you’ve reached the Top Paddock,
by the Mallee-Shrub Maze, you will reach a small crest
(near the home of the kind Sylvi-Rabbits)....

In The Maze, just last weekend, they all had a party
(it developed to a loud, wild affair)
for Will Willy-Wag-Tail's very first birthday.
Everyone knows him as Billy-Do-Dare.

I'm on a fiery warpath
I'm done with you talking smack
you think you got me duped,
but your butt’s about to catch a boot.

Take your rug-rats
and pack your bags.
find your own house
before I go in your mouth.

I maybe half blind
and feeling bad half the time,
but, I'll be dang gone dead
before I let you take my head.

Telling your lies to everybody you choose
won’t get me to step back my shoes
nor will I take back the harsh words
I said, you blatant, disrespectful girl.

We were so young
with our bellies full of naivety.
We scorned the sun
that cast shadows on our fragility.
We rode the wind
and never left room for any doubt.
We fought with time
like it was never going to run out.

But we were young
and love was still a lesson to be learned.
How could we know
that we died a little as the world turned?
We were anxious
and in a hurry for life to begin.
No one told us
that we would never feel this way again.

I cried a flood of fragile, perfect rainbows
that washed through childhoods’ simple, silver sands
so grains of unformed innocent not-knows
were scarred with dull, unlovely coloured bands

I wept for past naivety, now stained
with mortal ken - apocalyptic knowledge
that I’d forever be bereavement-maimed
my silver sands were gone; destroyed - my courage