am I not a poet!
if you see by the side of the site
they display….
so many poetry's of mine are highlighted..

it’s not that no one knows me,
it’s sad I know no one ...

I’m just a small time poet
out of maybe over ten thousand
maybe more or less …
sad I didn't know any...

having composed over ?000 poems all over
that today was poetry day in UK....
how I wish I had known
and
upon the souls of celebrities
they call Stars
my actorial kind of poetry
I'd display…

" God moves in a way my thoughts couldn't fathom...
just one thing I know is that in every wish my heart desire
in every love my dream have written
in every tear from eyes have crafted

from every joy and love I've experienced
He's the reasons of it....
from all hatred once in my heart stayed
He washed even my guilt

as God created my own desire
He also created the trials I must face"

composition inadapt
unprivy to text
sentances allude these
grammatically challenged
unable to comprehend
sinister fine print

apprehensive citizans
without a clue as to
what warnings are
written on walls
oblivious of hand bills
invitations
foreclosure statements
want ads
classifieds
obituaries
all unabsorbed
by those lack
in literary ability

C a t a p h i l e

the wall
the ceiling
the floor

our lives are a moult

close your mind
to time
history is an essence
like sunshine
and perfume

this echo
held in your heart
like a scribe tool
the keylatch
sound wave

press on fool

feelings immersed
drenched down
walls
the summer rains
turned to rusting
autumn
tumbling
the naked expression
of wind shorn limbs

Auburn

Flags half-massed fly
While they lie at your feet,
Sixty wounds from serpant tongues,
The senators deciet.
Subliminaly, brought to believe,
That this is for the better,
It'll save the weak.
But nothing changes, the lamen's still the lamen,
The sufferer suffers on while the kings are granted caviar.
The chain goes on, the messiah speaks,
Tell us what is real and how we should think,
The weak are given God, so the rich can write the law
Then they cry HEATHEN to take claim of the earth.

call me poison
i am annoying
because in speak fact that some will not be enjoying
mother nature has become profit
uncle wallet is thinking nothing of it
that is why natural disasters
are not willing to forefit
grass will forever be greener on the other end
call me a locked up prophet
my words damage and slaughter
they let you see horror and trauma
we battle to find peace within us
i might just
bribe an official
to recieve a wonderful Merry Christmas
because he is a uniformed criminal

enticing primrose sky
shall today be the day I die
certainly not the day after tomorrow
that's my day off
and tomorrow is Sunday
I don't want to die on a Sunday
too many persnickety busybodies
flittering fresh from sweltering pews
so today is a good day
well. maybe later this evening
the primrosey sky is still too beautiful

When it rains, it pours,
Here in the land of honey streets.

In the begining, ours was a house of chocolate walls.
The tap sprang sweet wine to go with our dinner
Of delicate delight.
We were young then,
and you know what they say,
When it rains, it pours.

Canto One

Upon the fringe of raw domain,
the suns rise as an Angel Host
ascends beyond the level plane.
Their advent from the nethermost
illuminates the flat and vacant World. 5

A multitude, they are the mind
of Joss and thence the all they shape
was hitherto but Joss defined.
In concert thus, this virgin scape
could nothing be but His caprice unfurled. 10

you must remain an entity,
oh what a pity
even God needs an identity,
If only we could mastermind our arrival
what time and day
would you or any one chose
may I ask of you?

We all ply about in veiled masks
in search of ...
rest I will compose
when other poets
do in me their faith impose,
let them feel the burdens of life
till will still,
remain one long strife