Thanks God for gifting me a new day.

Thanks for lightening my way.

Thanks for keeping me alive

to work with others in life's hive.

Thanks for giving me the chance

to put in life more balance.

Thanks for a day so bright

that inspires to do the right.

Thanks God for gifting me

to help the poor and the needy.

Today I'll lighten others' way.

The way God has lightened my day.

Comely swoon
this dark pressed womb
atrophy of dreamalair sweep

the trickle fates await

Hold the hand
at this gate check torrent
Pupil black swallow
flit and fly
against the grain
the static voice
soothing lullabye
goodbye

and dust storm scars
shall be forgiven
when we wake
sated
and risen

Humid air envelopes like a lover
on this warm mid-summer day
The wind's so still it seems to hover
refusing to set trees to sway

I slowly walk through quiet green
which filters out the mid-day sun
whose scattered lances still are seen
piercing the leaves to floor of dun

Slow pace determined by the heat
even birds' flight seems to slow
with wings that hardly even beat
while casting shadows down below

when happiness is wane
life lacking luster
drinking makes a merry heart

an unsympathetic life
sanity is tested
drinking hides stress

sleeping in
feeling crappy
from night before

red shot eyes
glassy eyed
heads for work

weary, dull headache
drags along
feeling tatty, hung over

Count on Me

love's passionate summations
compounding interest appreciation
accounts balancing inflation
affections performed enumeration
together we are amalgamated
happily diversified!

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