We have loveliest of neighbours
they keep daggers hidden
beneath the bushes
and
hope to strike,
is if unknowingly
they strive to thieve
and
We try to brief
do not be so greedy
they are otherwise nice,
but they know not,
what they do...

how I wish our father
since gone away knew
some are the scum today,
out to bring harm all your way
what damn associates
did you say?
they alone now do betray.

in the trench silt silence
slitting neuron night crush
hope glitters up
and stains the books
dead poets eyes
dust cover falling
beneath the droll words
rushing like a mantle
crumbling in a cry

here in this hiss
sticky glimpse the life
behind besmirched frames

footsteps of grit
to window seek
slowly there

Passion I hear you
cellophane longing
unwrapping a new
book of love

There are times
still
when the fog
rolls in
and you can't see
for sheer
density

You forget
for a moment
that the light
doesn't dwell
somewhere outside
but breathes
from deep
within you

but that is ok

Being lost
in the fog
brings it's own
beauty

In this waiting room I sit
old eyes are red from lack of sleep
hospital chair don't ever fit
wall clock's hands just barely creep

Stomach wanting to vent gas
as it rebels from vending food
but I refuse to let it pass
unlike some here in this brood

All the magazines areold
the newest May of oh eleven
one has even grown some mold
this place is near reverse of heaven

My head is killing me with passion
and the dog is barking poetry.
It's Saturday and crows are honking
with an early morning mist. Sea gulls
shriek their displeasure or to argue
about why humans waddle like ducks
in and out of their cities.

Sometimes, I am so filled with love
for it all, there's no one left to speak
of romance.

Not today.

He stood silent
With an empty face,
Clad in invisibility
And leaned on a monstrous sickle
Right there at the entrance
Pitilessly watching
-our beloved
On that grim bed
As he laboured
For a piece of breath

A sad sight
And we who claim
Ourselves masters of herbs
Could do nothing
Not even see,
Plead or fight
Him that stood
At the entrance
Neither reaping
Nor helping
Or away leaping
To a different field

Crushed Velvet

Plunging into
the crystal clear waters
many secrets hiding
under the luscious
sapphire pools
of lonely
indigo shadowed desire
meets with delicious
subaqueous forests
of rich emerald
crushed velvet desire
revealing a haven
of beautiful acceptance
where the starlit silence
of her fairy
childlike devotion
pure and resplendent
in a swirl of melding
this tide pool of loving...
the meridian of the soul

The words that will leave my mouth I dear say
May not be what you want to hear
But now is not the time to cast your bait and hook
Hoping that you will catch a fish in time for lunch
The time when you could have relied on hope:
When time was on your side – when you could have
Afforded to take aim and miss – that time is long gone!
But since you are blinded by your self-delusion
That your present state could only be worst not better
That your standard of life is the way it should be
You have unconditionally resigned from

CRYSTALLED CRACKS

Listen to the still of winters exit

lulled in the heat of march midday

hear the great tit shout for joy

see the silver drips

that drop from snow-clung clumps in trees

smell the sudden brew of autumn's pungent leaves

the sky reflected deep deep blue

in pools of melted ice
too fresh to taste

icicles tumble, heavy thuds

their crystal forms crazed, cracked

transformed to lacy netting

holed and patched

It started like a play at work
I saw some scary shaded forms
Meet a good sister of a friend
The rest is a tall tale you hear

Our people say this all the time
A trickster does not put his hand
In the pocket of one his kind
Lest the two pass others their mess

Looks deceive people a whole lot
The more innocent, the least suspect
Grave is the danger it can cause
Vigilance becomes the watchword