On a day much like any other day
the morning sun was returned on time,
a brightly summered tuesday morn
acurately warm, with a breeze sublime.

Streetlights have been back on schedule for hours
courteously using the yellow before the red-light,
comparitively, no evidence remained
of the rude, practice drills, creating havoc all night!

Eightly a.m. and most all was quiet
a suffocating deafness liltly lingered in the air;
night's canopy removed her dank, darkness,
then left her humming, silently of desert despair.

THE QUEEN'S DIAMOND JUBILEE part1 by Ian Thomson
I stared at the telly, the announcer stared back,
Then shouted "Don't move!" Nearly had heart attack
Whispered "Talking to me? - you must be, I'm alone."
He said " You must rescue our Queen and her throne."

The story he told me was strange and quite true.
About a Witch, Bumface, from South Timbuktu.
This evil old woman, all snotty and smelly,
Black magicked good people, trapped them in their telly.

Meet me in a neon city,
Brought against your will,
A strange new reality,
Humanity gone,
Replaced by some sinister plot,
A dark machine at the head of it all,
So struggle to be free,
Struggle for me,
I might not last,
They line up poets like me,
And shoot us down in the street,
To clear the way for their new society,
You will be free,
Trust me,
Step inside the dark machine,
Tear it apart for me.

Oh blissfull day
that's come my way,
it's good to be at home!

It took som time
to make this rhyme,
I had to write it on the roam;

creative sparks emits my dome.

~

Morning delight
it just feels right,
'tis nice to be alive;

on words I feed
to fill my need,
even shadows wish to thrive;

alive in sunlight they try and strive.

~

Good day, kind sirs
things could be worse,
as night becoes from day;

"Yankee..Hotel..Foxtrot"

sizzle they come
the jealous hearts
firing salvos

black smear envy exploding
in beautific cordite bloom

Nose cone eye
unblinking
guiding beneath my seat

This azure night as still
as a ships bottle battle

the skin flank hissing
the afterburner churning

and yet how my heart
holds its heat seeking
love for thee

hurtle on morning sweet as
a cherubs smile
we shall wreak death at midnight
fitter sleek machine

Knock, knock… knocking on your door
I am the traveler from the steppes beyond the moor
I bring news with me for you from the afar shore
Knock, knock… knocking on your door

fire an arrow and bring the sun down
that's how I learnt
the Red Indians brought the moon upon earth
and
now it at least shines
for half a month
so why not try it with the sun

half begun
any battle is half won
sun or no sun ,
the sojourn is on
blast it sorry,

WOLVES OF A KIND

From the hills numbed
by winter breeze
the wolves did come
to kill and feed..
and you
who hungered more
came scratching
at my door
to fill your need

.Alektorophobia is the fear of chickens-I got a cousin who gets all sweaty when within close distance to free-ranging hens when within close distance to free-ranging hens.

Biblophobia is the fear of books- imagine if everyone else in my school had this type of fear, i would have come up tops easily.

Bromidrosiphobia is the fear of body odour- I subscribe to this fear.

Gymnophobia is the fear of being naked- Imagine having a wife whose got this, you might as well go celibate!

for just a moment 
our love existed
then like a mist
it was gone

the sight of red roses growing
in backyards
remind me of the time
we spent together
and seared petals 
that bloomed to early
withered in the light

herbs thriving in drooping baskets 
from rooftops 
makes me think of you

prosperous veggies 
outside in the backyard
make me smile

the thing I missed the most
is your strong shoulders
taking me in your arms
carrying my weaken body 
into your palace