Notwithstanding the angle of the arrow
Pointed towards Loved...
One who is too much of a narcissist
and egoist,
Incorrigible to the core
Is audacious to call some poets ,of yore

One who knows no poetry?
That’s for sure,

How in hell, Loved produces
A gem off and on,
One can’t be too sure.
But the best chiseller
We have met,
Is our dearest friend,
We all know…

elongated shimmers reflect
the water of movement
on her face,

life swirls around
brushing past

unseeing

she stares into liquid pools of light
blinded as a supernova
peeks out from inside

I've got myself this, "theory"
a crazy notion, my mind voluntarily, had;

I consider all things to be mathematical
and if they're worthwhile you'd best learn, to add.

Just total, all of your blessings
and, your sorrows you'll have to subtract;

you'll then see, a much clearer picture
that life's good, and that that's, a grand, fact!

You cannot add up all, your worries
for to add up your fears is not right;

Blaring noises ring
Causing a fantastic dance.
For it's a great king.

Once I saw a man in a suit knocked down by a car
He went rolling along the road,
one shoe went off another way.

He rolled into a sitting position,
he had a small package in his hand.
He raised it to his ear and shook it.
Then he said fuckit
and fell over and didn’t move any more.

So sue me,
I laughed.

"Do we even like each other?"
Echo asked as she twirled
and twisted around my feet.
I was green when I faced the river.
I ripped to shreds dreams that never
came and I came undone.
But you come again and again to steal
my breath and devour my soul.

I listen carefully and exhume the sound.
Earth still clings to me. My bones lie
scattered.

partitions
meet your fire on the first flick
taste that heat
first sure lick

crush heel sweet relished life
that trick twist knee
that shouts its bitter agony

jump into flame
this loves ignition
aspiring
the thick dark fingers
beneath the skin
across the flesh
raised goosebump fresh

swallow words this
ghost ache
burning through
veneer of mirrors

wear your ears
and dance crippled
weary floors with
dirty feet

Some people aren’t materials for first class
When it comes to academic or group work
Manure rejects gold and accepts the grass
Some hate pigs yet delight in eating pork
Middle men coordinate within the ranks
Between those who have and the have not
Sweet rewards swell the vaults of banks
They tried hard but they just could not
Their names were called, like others
Amongst those who passed the test
Those who failed were also our brothers
Third rate, may be, but that was their best

What can I say of your poems?

I would like to own them,
hand-written on parchment with torn edges.
I would like to stick them on my walls
and keep some in my pocket
to give to strangers in the street.

We can all spend a lifetime searching
Searching for that final piece
The part that makes us whole
That makes the pain of life
Disappear into nothingness
Imagine.
After a full life
Long after you have stopped seeking
That mystical something
Lands in your lap
Hits you in the face
Like a custard pie
Turns your whole life inside out
You hold it for one fleeting moment
Then, it vanishes in a puff of smoke
Poof! It’s gone forever
But now you know
You know what it was