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The haze of a summer’s day dwindles,
the air settles as crickets stir to sing.
In the shadow of the distant hills
menacing flames flare intrusively.
hunger of the candles
warm perfume
shaded kisses
days end makeup
and touch of
fingertips
sit closer
examine me with
tasteful eyes
ease lightly
my fear and
hauntedness
i shall
guard your
dog dreams
raven
wings
..O..
isnt it amazing
ill
worked so hard
its like life
in a jar
waiting for that
lid to spin
take a breath
feel the sky
naked as a thousand
lies
..O..
laying on that outcrop of rock
grasses gather where
stone dove neath earth
trees kissed with wind
close my eyes
see the colour of my flesh
from the inside out
tangerine and pink
somewhere far away
the highway
rushing
i guess i should get up
now
guess i should go home
start over where i left
renew the ritual
i cant take anyone to that rock
show them
this is where i lay
once
and felt the impermanance
through cleft stone
you find me
azure and silver
gliding in your summer gown
so quick you grasp
heart and soul
your melancholy
reach embrace
On the 25th April, 1915
the promising golden light
of the rising sun
reached out to reveal the
rugged landscape of Ari Burnu.
Wih the break of dawn
the Darkness of Dayligt
revealed the bloody truth.
A landscape writhing in a sea of red,
confounded by a deafening silence
that had descended in sympathy
for so many lives lost.
As this ferocious battle waged on
the overcrowded hospital ships and barges
gave sparse refuge to the never ending
Gentlemen, tonight I shall
drink beer.
For it is Friday night
and the work week is done.
Tonight I shall drink
a brew fit for a man.
Let the women complain
about my misogony
over pretty drinks
that remind them they
are beautiful still.
What I need
are malt and barley
and toasted hops!
Not Warsteiner,
though the Germans
are masters of their craft.
Nor shall I
drink Molson,
an adequate
Canadian pilsner.
Even a Belgian
won't do,
tonight,
though there's is
the best in the world.
She calls.
He doesn’t hear.
She falls.
He does not fear.
She cuts the ties.
He is oblivious.
Amidst all the lies.
Pathetically at night she cries.
In the morning a brave face.
She re-arranges and puts in place.
As though the wounds are healed.
She does her best; it’s all concealed.
From the hurt the pain.
That tortures the brain.
Looking to apportion the blame.
Never again, will things be the same.
Soon the day will change.
Take fortitude to change the situations you can.
That you cannot change, will be in transition.
While the passing of time, sweeps the change to you.
Remember freedom can be a prison.
For liberty without love, is a prison without bars.
And the heart is misplaced, is in a sea of confusion.
Allow no one to chain your thoughts, actions or deeds.
Will ye miss me afore a go.
Fur a will miss yer rain hail an snow.
And yer mountainous ranges that run doon tae the sea.
The nectar of the god’s that will last eternally.
I will miss yer lochs so blue and green.
The northern lights a sight to be seen.
Your people sae real and heart’s filled wae kindness.
Yer fabled monster in the dark depth’s of Loch Ness.
Loch Lomond so long tae long tae conceive.
Autumn forest’s of splendorous colours blended