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Sons of Abraham,
Upon the vanished roads
of world demised
when other watery ways were found
around the cape
discovered by wind from western shores,

Those dusted traveled ties
that carried thoughts
as well as things
on sandy blowing idea routes,
in words whose fair exchange and trade
brought light,
like those of Ibn Rushd
returning golden flames
of Aristotle’s, Plato’s spark to life
Cordoban pages to ignite new thoughts again
from sleep
to be a renaissance begun.

blue mountains and rose petals
fall to earth
and the earth swallows everything
but love

love is all there is
but for the magnitude of reflection,
an ocean we leave behind
beside our mortal coil

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4mUmdR69nbM This Mortal Coil ~ Cocteau Twins

between here and there,
there is just this,
and the justice that is just this,
we walk on angry feet sometimes
throw another skeleton into the closet
and kick the teeth of gratitude
with the spare change of our pockets
and this is the way we pass through
the needle of our eye,

and this is the way we spin ourselves
like spiders inside webs dangling
from end to end

the morning dew not yet dropping, the
sun not yet glistening.

Malicious
for emotions workshop

(Hate poem)

Bullshit, verbal leakage,     
you are putrid seepage,
dripping down my mind.

Your a waste, a product of filth
a perverted fornicater
a grubby little gob shite of the worst kind

Bullshit verbal leakage
every time I see you
I feel the need to lobotomise
and lose my tiny mind.

Setting sun cast its golden rays
Upon the sprawling coconut beach
Rolling living screen of events
Reflected the travails in glassy sea
Days of ripples in spiral modulation
Of fleeting fanciful images evoking
Compulsive contemplative inducement
A mood desperately looking for answers
To the pertinent question of providence
Through the ages by the man of desire

Where do we come from?
Why are we here?
Where do we go from here?

You Pulled A fast One

You sent shivers down many a spine
Including Shirley and mine
We were worried
All this while,
As you hadn't commented
In your own style

Though I am aware
You have to be read three
Is to one
Maybe none
But Stan don’t make us run,
Surgery is no fun,
Life has to be lived well
Ere we all go to the knell,
I won't say heaven or hell,
As in both
Through life's sojourn
Here alone we dwell.

They say that I've been sick a while
that things like this are slow to grow
message delivered with a false smile
behind their eyes I think they know

Too many years, too much excess
health advisories unheeded
(I thought that they were all unneeded)
but I'm proven wrong, I guess
far too often I said yes

So here I lie in sterile room
no choice but take this final chance
hoping surgeons now can thwart my doom
as anesthetic feeds into I.V.

Multi-colored streaking lights, wash across my windshield's night
Wiper shadows swishing past, keeping pace with raindrops fast
The motor purrs, and tires shussssh, through icy puddles... slush
Gosh, I guess that Autumn's come, a little cooler, dwindling sun

Geese in their high flying vees, and bright colors in the trees
Squirrels frantic in their gathering, different birds begin to sing
I see the signs of Summer's end, I feel that I have lost a friend
Oh well, it's time to go, the shitty weather tells me so

Grateful is one
Who loves the worth of another one.

So as we all on the Internet move,
Some new ones arrive,
Few go,
Others who miss the fun
Do often return
Hopefully,
till the sunrises each morn
And
The horizon isn't forlorn,
The skies remain blue,
As much as the sea
I’m quite sure Neopoet
Will many elite poets see.
Those who finally bring us all
To lime light
And
Hope we all add
A wee bit of our mite