She is like a cat in the dark,
Her eyes twinkle and spark.
She slinks around,
Like a ghost in the town.
And lives amongst the alleys.

She avoids conflict until pursued,
Once angered she won't be subdued.
If you dare chase this kitty,
Man, you have my pitty.
She may seem shy,
but in her eyes.
I see a mysterious side,
life is a tough ride.
for this girl I can tell,
I can read her well.

I know it will be a surprise to you
Receiving this hopeful note of plea
Form our war torn Sierra Leone
It is me, your friend, Mohammed
Consider how I lost my right foot
A price I paid to the rebel war.

You will be blessed to give constantly
Your descendants will prosper unceasingly
To third, fourth and fifth generations
For the assistance you caused to be
To acquire this artificial limb of mine
That drags me along desolated byways

hope
transparent and thin
like
leaves too long in the wind
oh
confident desire
which
once sprang eternal (never to expire)
now
with gnarled joints
slowly
crawls
to its knees
Failed Aspirations:
hope
transparent and thin
like
leaves too long in the wind
oh
confident desire
which
once sprang eternal (ever to expire)
now
with gnarled joints
slowly
falls
to its knees

Genitive, dative, ablative, the babble sound of Latin verbs,
their rhythmical grimace, their declension.
Yet the lilt, the sway, the dance of vowels,
that mesmerise the mind, entice, amuse.

The music of mankind, their many vocal songs,
each land their dialect, their form of phrase,
all from the human throat, the mouth, the nose,
each utterance its own expression as air goes in, goes out.

Lift it up and feel its heft
the weight of time and perspiration
all the effort that was left
on pages soaked in inspiration

Run fingers over textured cover
feel the binding on your skin
what new worlds will you discover
on the pages held within

Now open it to that first page
if it's new smell that fresh ink
and even if it has some age
the dust and yellowing won't stink

It is sitting on a mountain away from all the man-made distractions
It is enjoying a flower
Deep in thought, with no interactions

It is the art of Cha-Do, seven basic concepts
A doorway shortened
So one leaves behind what they possess

The polite refusal of the first drink
Done to show humility and respect
And whose participants share a common, humble link.

It is the calm after the storm
The balancing of Qi
A stepping back from the norm

startle dark
no fire
no stars to glean
suffusion
surrender

urging wind
brushing
filling
toiling against
the upper structure

and the scent of salt
fulfilling mutual
steadiness

nothing like running
dark
like a truth examined
with more senses
then just the simplicity
of wavelengths from
the broad spectrum

this is more of
"feeling"
mixed with the chaff
of longing and want

Indigo children, running on a molten river of emotionless hate.
Driven forwards only by the tumult that we fools call love.
Compelled only to be accepted into a perfect circle.

You couldn’t really call him homeless. He always felt comfortable where he was. Always able to sleep well on any given surface.. He never considered something as cliche as ‘the city is my home’. No, he just never really considered having a home. This is how he wanted to live, without any connections or attachments. He didn’t even dream of having anything more. Real dreams. Sleeping dreams. Not aspirations. Hell, he didn’t even want respect. There was no talking to strangers or introductions.

I told a friend to look behind his back
He turned round to see a cripple crawling
then jumped and ran to nearby side track
because he thought a car was approaching
We laughed to see the fear on his brow
The lame was angry by our reaction
He picked some stones all set to throw
We explained it was not our intention
to mock or make a jest of him by that
but to let our chary friend step aside
as he wore a comical mammoth hat
and couldn’t see a thing from either side
This turned out to be a very big gaffe