I like you girl;
better'n chicken,
better'n liking myself I reckon

more than any other thing alive;
more than life passing,
or the promise of time

let winds fingers ramble through the tangle
my hair wild
and the leaves whispering in their urgent hiss
I can feel the gravity in my legs the
uneven brickwork and sunbleached blacktop

I push myself forward
for going back is like stepping
into the cool shadowdream

where I'm neither awake
nor concious

I remember the brown tea waters
of the creek always alive
always moving under the sweet
bridge the shaded tree limbed
sanctuary of respite

i.

we had a common dream once
to know the sky and sea as well as
the black willow's reflection inside a mirrored lake,
but rose petals and fireballs fell and
disturbed our vision

The cost of existing is high
Prompting me to cry
No matter how hard I try
I can’t discern, my way in life

Spiraling prices place me in a fix
Per buyers spending picks
Low wages mainly a trick
To craft the minority rich

Thus creating majority poor
Per capita distinction core

Hanging on tattered zinc, flaccid in the wind
The roof of a dilapidated school structure bore
The electoral sign, green codes upon white
Danced seemingly beckoning on the voters
To come and cast, to choose a new a leader

The aluminum plate tied with a twine
Like the hangman’s noose, it droops
As if rocking reflectively on the past
To mock the contestants on display
Some who want to win at all cost

With those big brown eyes
and strawberry fired hair
sweet innocence as on
a summer's day fair

You visit grandma and grandpa
with lee luke and charlotte
brothers and sister you play
have such a wonderful day

You all go play hide and go seek
all turns dark all so bleak
in a blink of an eye
you are taken away
we cannot sleep
we only weep

In death I’ve found love,
Longing,
Desire,
But much more thought of you;
To make it seem right,
With a heart full of anger,
Yet have not found what to do.

Not in my walking. Not in my waking,
It’s fog,
And thought,
And far too many days between;
That I have will, but no feet,
Urge, but no way,
Nor hither that I have seen.

The dialogue of silence
resembles theatre of the absurd.
He’s waiting for Godot -
She dare not utter a word.

He speaks with disdain,
his body language concurs,
she turns away trembing -
“communication”
is just another word.

The wanton isolation
of not being heard.
They loved once
before they recognised the abyss,
before they touched the void.

Anxiety and anguish
Co-joined protagonists
In a play called Folie a deux
Zeitgeist the grim backdrop
To the greyness they’ve found.

On this low bluff I often seek
more with my soul than faded eyes
solitude beside a middling creek
beneath the varied seasons' skies
occasionally at year's demise

I share this time with stalwart fellows
most having seen many a more year
of spring greens and autumn yellows
than this random visitor to here
who sits still as any deer

when is a poem not a poem?
and does the heart ever let go?

the diamond in the rough
was a handful of indigenous rock
until
its essence was gleaned and
facets were carved with care

there are rubies in the dust and pearls
in the oyster beds, we dive into dirt and
smell of water
we tremble with the light
and light a candle in the hour
that is the darkest

let us remember that only hollow men
dare to sing
when there is nothing left
and this is the way the world ends.