The hum drum glum
Low down days
Buzz and thrum
Drone on incessantly

Trapped, sapped of energy
Cramped in soulless mundane lives.
missing opportunities at every turn

Passed out, strung out
Apathetic, the throb and dull ache
smashing our will

Zapping and snapping nerves
Brittle In the chill of reality
Calling to someone to let us out

We have  the right
To take flight
In the pursuit of freedom

<p>A tired mother
young hatchlings to feed
they're truly too big now
to fulfill their need
it's time to go now
it's time to fly
time with no warning
go now with no why
soft down suspended
three hatchlings emerge
but that poor one
that young noble bird
a mother swoops in
a mother to mother
a child to give sympathy
a child to smother
she pecks and gives chase
for the weak dying male
he flaps and he screams
he flops and he flails

I have forgotten the willow weeping in the field
How it brushed closely to the Earth
As the sunshine would glimmer through
Highlighting the wild flowers in bloom
Home to the sparrow and once a year
The turtle dove would tour through its branches.

I remember the golden sunset
It would paint the sky with purple, reds and oranges
Majestic upon the encroaching night
In breathless awe I would watch
As the clouds explode like rainbows
And the calm of the moment breeched serenity.

the sun setting
golden in the breathless sky,
the sky turning red and pink and apricot
like a Parrish sunrise

there is a benediction
of hushed voices
as the night gathers
its dark crown and silk grasses

and the cave of the heart
takes off her shy veil
surrenders to all that is
like lilies blessing the open field

gods still walk amoung us
in the silence of holy men
and women. I am incapable of knowing
anything more.

I'll sing a song of Eastertide
Before the sun will set;
Of the rising of the three-day dead
And the joy of chocolate eggs.

I'll make a tune of trifling joys
Set to manuscript, note by note
And coax my spirit's new employ
Of cooking for the neighbour's kids.

I'll do much good, so when I die
And in my cold grave lie,
You'll think some good of me a while
So in my death, I smile.

Aphrodite

Borne of
mellifluous music...
Diving within the tune
Magic kaleidoscope
turnings
Flicker and flash
of fiery stars
As sensual
waterfalls resonate
She trickles through
the stream of night
Immersed in an
all consuming beat
Then all at once
she'll surface,
Viewing the falcons wing
in flight
From her seat atop
the comet's tail!

You wanna hide this pain,but you cant
as it courses through your veins.

such power you feel,is this real?
or is it your mind searching for a outlet for your hate.

Dont use me as bait
thats not my fate to be your doll,
after all you just used me for what you want.
and it makes me want to taunt

Im tired of being used and abused.
you just need me to finish your work
.but now its my turn i have some work of my own.

my love my partner in crime
i have no time
we shall take a match to this city and watch it burn.

I'm at the crossroad
Where the huge white ball hangs
Quietly in the dark veil of night
Shining down on my little piece of the world
Through vinyl blinds behind a cold, glass, window
above the kitchen sink of my modest abode

My eyes are heavy
Burning from too much reading
I turned in for a restful Saturday morning
Before the break of dawn catches me awake
Lying on my comfy couch in the wee hours of the night
Exhausted, before the day is formed

Summer’s day, summer’s rain,
Lingers at my door,
Sun kissed roses move in the wind,
I have smelt that scent before,
Smells like fruit, feels like clean,
On the treetops boughs,
Of the orchard, near the field,
Where buttercups dance around,

Summer’s night, summer’s sky,
Laid out full of stars,
Like a painting, nothing more beautiful,
Whose artist included Mars,
Anticipating the sudden release,
Of a Milky Way,
I am bewitched by a planet,
That I do not know the name,

If I close my eyes the memory's vivid -
screeching, circling, circling, screeching.
Overhead and all around is turbulence and chaos and turbulence
in a hellish cacophony that splits the night,
the night they came to caution me.

For no rational reason
an insidious seeping of terror and awe
slowly carried black, dank thoughts of impending doom
to exponentially darken the core of my centre

I did not then know who,
but I knew.

The Aborigine say the curlew cries the warning of death.

~