cirque
such shadow bleak
the pale cast
the dancer flight
in torch arc chase

truths leap out
and subtle
dissolution
blend
slippery like
dark sea eels

whispers of ghosts
like vellum dreams

Cauldron

slowly it began to turn
a ball of madness
sanity on the burn

violence on every page
perversions wedge
to great outrage

humanity on the edge
and open windows
mounting the ledge

to plunge into fiery hell
to demons grasp
on the sounding bell

From scripture they'd been told
would redeem them from
Hell's fire bold

where was this bright shining lord
the one the fanatics
all truly adored

I can't even lose my life, it was
never mine, someone else lived
me and gave me up before my
time.

I came undone somewhere
between the ocean and the sky;
I learned what love is when August
came, and leaves fell in September.
I came undone somewhere between
my ocean and your sky.

Everywhere I look, I am shattered, dispossessed.
Everywhere I am, I am yours.

who let a toddler paint the sky?

rub his grubby fingers
across the horizon

those fat

vienna sausages dripped in
a kindergarten palette of brightness

what are these

orange clouds
red rivers
blue hills?

a pink breeze?

has the round bellied boy
never seen the world?

with its grey blues sighing
on the green rolls its rivers
languishing in a brown repose

he excites them with
palm
smack
and giggles

smudging the sharp lines
with his pea-cocked knuckles

These discarded faded rags
Reminiscence of past struggles
Pains that once drowned me
In an ocean of nothingness

The renewed ugly condition
Brings back bitter tang of air
That once boomed in my throat
And choked my frail lungs

On a rainy day, abandoned tattered clothes
Are worn by those who discarded them

Look down O! Child of calamity
An echo from within, rocks me softly
With a little touch of amusement
As I wear the rags to clean the filth

So tranquil is our landscape,
Calm in its everest blue.
The summer moon, full in its splendour,
Keen for the watcher,
Gone apace the sprinkled dew.
Beauty few grasp to elate.

Reverent, spiritual night,
Sing silent to the heavens.
Weep with the morn', weep joy over all,
Even light can fall.
Gentle, mortal eloquence.
Godly harmonies take flight.

Time marches in, right on cue,
asks for his just due
holds the weapon of every choice
in the cloak that bares concealment.

Hey, but that's just for starters, we don't get the menu
until much, much later. There's nothing to eat but what wastes
away,
hunger manifests in each and every statue,
deep-veined in human blood
willing to come to life,
to be alive in dreamscapes, near and far;

motes of dust we travel well,
never break the silence of wild geese
with impossible intervention

Cinderella man…

As he sits on the stool staring
through eyes cut and bruised
He hears the crowd swearing
feels his body over used.

The bell, he dances on feet so light,
now he knew why he had to fight.
This was not for belts or to sample glory,
his was such a hard, sad, simple story.

He’d never erase that hungry picture,
his children trying to hide their fear.
However hard he’d tried to reassure,
they worried, would he always stay near.

I'm proud to know someone, such as yourself.
True enough, life has generously burdened you,

and serendipity, and fortune have more of a tendency to hide
rather than attempt to seek you out.

Plus, the darker your misfortunate episode is,
the more apt you are to cultivate a proclivity

to coerce yourself into enduring a sort of, "trend";
otherwise known as a bad, "run of luck", as it were.

So, consider this thought concerning your range of circumstances.
Everyone of your private joys, and secret sorrows

I decided to accept Wesley's challenge to convert this verse of Blake to Iambic, but won't try for pentameter, that would demand a total re-write.

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.

To see a World in Sand's small Grain
a Heaven in a flower's bloom,
To Hold infinity in your hand's palm
Eternity each hour.