There was a poet whose work
Caused his readers great irk
But now he has joy
By the quite simple ploy
Of critiquing just like a jerk

My heart is like an open book when it comes to you, I never thought any of my dreams would come true when it comes to you, now that I have you I don't know what better to do but tell you I love you, each and every day that I think of you, which is nonstop twenty-four seven my book of love to you is always open like a seven-eleven , in my book it begins with I love you and ends in I will always love you, so many pages so much love and it all goes out to you, you flow like a river in my brain, your always running through my head, no end in sight not from what I see, through the good and

My inner darkness
The glass of the soul
Falling catches no sunlight
Dropping onto black marble

Shattering without sound
Without a sparkle,
Or thrown light.
Never let this be me.

I scream inwardly
No one hears my agony
I touched the darkness
With my whole being

It is a product of a hurt
I have been given to hold
Held so that I cannot breathe
Reflected within myself.

I'm feeling frisky
Can we be a bit risky?
find some little alcove
and share our love
I've never been so brave
but you, right now, I crave
Is that a sound of condemnation?
No, cos here you are at my work station
You say "I need you to do some filing"
I outwardly moan but can't stop smiling
never has it felt so right
can't wait for more afternoon delight

MOURNING SUN

The sun burns steel cold
sharp and cutting
reaching the depths of me.
I don’t hear birds singing
anymore.
and the noise
of all living things
sends shock waves
into my brain.

Did you know how much
I loved you
did you know how much
you meant to me
what do I do now
where do I go from here

I grow saddened,
our streets
have begun
to flow
with blood

our offspring
run wild,
animals they
prowl the streets
prey on the weak

king hits
and glassings,
blood forks
and the rivers
run ever deeper

police
overwhelmed
medics
understaffed
trying to stem
the flow of death,
rapes
bashings
shootings
murders

our children
are dying
our streets
show signs
of war

and still, we sit
and do nothing

Poetry is death to me
When the world is gray
I can not see
Anything but fey.

Fey is knowing death
Powerless to change
A final grief or breath

It may change with time
this lonely path of mine
Shows me only pain
but I can't deny my brain

easel
the storm outside wages
and the sins cast raise the
fire
the cat stirs
its yellow amber gaze

the mists through the shire
the sea roams against the caves
that groan
and dreams shake away
behind the Mica windows
the peat fire blaze
its sweet comfort
the tea pail simmering

Hawthorn and Root

the winged spirit climbs
seeking
bitter fruit
the wizened hearts
of unbelievers

the bear walkers
who despoil the truths
of rune stones

Headlights on the highway
grit in tired eyes
on the road since Friday
way more lows than high
keeping it between the lines

Trading miles for money
exchanging life for time
endless days are never sunny
as I wipe off the grime
keeping it between the lines

Mirrors reflecting glaring light
while ol' Hank and Waylon play
alone another four lane night
tailgaters just won't go away
keeping it between the lines

The raw dripping pool
creeping across the mouth
delicious!

drip drip dribble dribble

No sanguine snack this-
more a Homo-blackpudding
bursting bloody bastes

The luminous ring dances
lunar lines across the
Green Man's playground
hiding wet magenta ribbons

drop! drop! splatter splash!

And the scent is wafting
And the hirsute pursuer
pines for the
metallic tang

And he finds a lone lovely
languishing in the green baize
clearing