You have the expert hands of a concert pianist
and I want you to play up and down me
like the ivory keys of a baby grand.
Lightly.
Ever so lightly.
Feeling, learning every part of me.
And then growing in intensity.
Urgency.
Until reaching culmination.
Fill me with your music.

PIRATES

Now! Best of order, shipmates, just keep quiet and listen well
And I’ll tell thee all the story of a ship and a golden bell.
This ship was feared across the seas from Antigua to Cadiz
Me uncle, Black Bill Bonecrusher, was captain; ship was his.

I read his log book, as a lad, when he would come to stay,
Bill told me of his escapades, when galleons were his prey.
At that he felt an icy chill and looked all round, in fear
And then said “Lad, this story, true, is only for your ears………….

These roses speak of truth
love starts from early youth
till it exposes the real truth
as it buds...
roses
within you

so
this is love
as this lovely happy couple
speak only of love
as they dance
you can see above

oh what is love
so many ask of me

tis it... tis it... tis love

felt the bulbs upon his tarnished skin
their heat their glow
studying their faces
his own in the fading glow

the little room
the tiny house
how his hunger
grows and grows

the acne ravages
stealing the bold
but the kind
the powerful
stand to show
their interest
no love
their stories
no part

so he acts
the hero
villan fox
walks the vaudeville
gaunt and haunted

I learned a new word today
gentrification
to renovate or improve
conform to middle class taste.

I stumble on this word
in a news article
two armed gals
forced three tenants,
one girl two men,
from their apartment
by gun point.

Old friends after all these years.
Time lost, draws us near.
Like precious stones, from years past,
You lost your memory, your stones were cast.

Heaven didn't need you, on that grueling day,
When your truck veered astray.

Our path was broken, you wanted to remember,
To repair that which had been splintered.
I reminded you of each stone, how precious they were,
Like alabaster and myrrh.

The years may have passed
but I'm still haunted by the past.
one which compels me to grow stronger
to strive until time turns me to dust
and another took my place
to lay the corrupted to waste.

Gotham is no longer the same heaven it used to be
it reeks with despair as parasites
suck the livelihood of the hepless innocents
,who have no strength to fight for their rights

synthetic our world
wrapped
like the glass
in the snow globe
precarious a balance
the growling station
its visage blazing
filling the room with
its violent light

dirty feet on cold carpets
sticky stains
and bottles with sideworlds
distorted
the door to the bathroom
canted
the shower a black wall
like a great tunnel
the winds surf full of crystal
snow in the cold
biting like a vampyre
the steeples
full of gargoyles guarding

Haunted

Solemn stares from recent dead occupy the now
drifting past the threshold of despair
alone, I ponder what their eyes are saying
fast and loose, beyond abuse, without quite knowing how,
bringing dreams of what they cannot share
but leaving silent clues that are dismaying