Opposite ends of the wheel
the distance far too great
you've lost your sense of feel
and for me it's way too late.

One Drink to get the engine started
Two and I feel a rumbling starting
The Third and Fourth, There Lives within glass were rather short
As I looked at the fifth, I heard a voice insist "Slow down sport"

I must admit I've never been drunk so quick
Just before I rushed the next drink twards my lips
A fellow combatant hysterically admitted

Blue swell
I know you too well
wet me
these clouds sharp
torn at their peak

these winds stride
perilous tear break
the weight my heart
makes

light shivers
where you stand
a memory
delivered

THE SONG THAT STOPS YOU

The song that stops you in your tracks
when walking through a wood,
its mellow tones and striking shrieks,
its bubbling warbled notes,
arrest,

and standing still in awe,
we feel so blessed by nature's charms,
a calm still mirror,
like the lakes and hidden ponds,
pondering the beauty of the sound;

It dances round our senses
steals away all qualms,
and leaves one in a state of love,
caressed by dreamy thoughts,
as if we walk a painting of the world,
the whole,

Senyru: #1
Dry eyes low vision 
Right eye twenty four-hundred
After glaucoma  

Senyru: #2
Sooo broken hearted
You walked away with my sun
Tears fall as raindrops 

Senyru: #3
It burns in my chest
Back tightens under pressure
Overcome by pain

the theatre dual
company of mind in body
presents

between origin of
cradle
grave

act one
to experience

heart, art
and fair play
work excellence
love

lust
war, destruction
injustice, hunger
hate, fear

and faith
or lack thereof

free
will
be
no charge

note

critical analysis has been varied
dependent on seating position
.

The Queen between the shades of night
and walls of everlasting light
stands silent, as the teeming throng
of subjects good, one million strong

break into chorus, note by note,
of canticles they learned by rote;
they bless her reign with lifted cry
beneath her banner and the sky.

I came too late,
waited too long
now I hold you as dust in my hand
release you to the whispering wind,
in the fields you loved,

If but the summer sun
had come to kiss our Valley,
and warm the rocky paths we walked,
then the chill that killed your bones
would have waited,

but the one who knew you ,
called cold of night,
whispering old and easy,

his voice grew louder ,
the winter long and cold his seal,
he took your spark,
and cast it to the night sky,

Strange how does life
point to us as anonymous
though we always have
definite, proper names!

How the cyber
gives a face to a book
though it never has
real eyes or ears or hair.

How does true love
turn fake and burn
the hearts once had
sincerely been inflamed.

Strange how do our
hearts grow away
and strange from
their own space

STRANGE !!!

We'd run for fun in the back yard
in guise of catching fireflies' glow
beneath the moon in early June
carefree as only kids can be

Bare toes too quick for mosquitos
to alight or much less bite upon
this time of year it would appear
memories of Memphis haunt the night