Fleshed out as poetic confessional.

Profligacy prevailed pricking psyche
precipitating pandemonium.

I wrought havoc courtesy aegis
of paramours picadillos, yours truly did relish
crooning, clowning, and cavorting
around at Piccadilly Circus
located in Regent Street, Shaftesbury Avenue
Piccadilly, Covent Street and Haymarket.

Fast forward into the present
meaning Christmas day 2024.

Bring in the scoundrels;
let me see them.

Have you double checked the list?

Aye, aye, Sir they are all,
in fact, on the naughty list.
What’s to be done with them?

Make them build igloos
in the North Pole,
noses red as Rudolph’s.
Frostbitten hands will
surely teach them a lesson.

No, no Sir,
not nearly,
cruel enough.
Pass them pick axes,
send them to flint-coal,
for those only
a bit naughty.

I am part of the wall of sound
Just one of one hundred voices
Each one
Contributing a piece
To make the song complete

The wall of sound
Is powerful
And gives me the power
To contribute one voice
To the unison of voices

Together
We all work
In one direction
And with one goal
To make beautiful music

We help each other
In so many ways
By encouraging
By actively helping
By being there
And working in oneness

F ountains of blooms in every season,

R ivers of love- unconditional, for no reason.

I nvaluable_ a smile, a blessing's flare,

E arnestness_ the aroma of scented air.

N ights of endless fun and muse,

D ays that glow in colorful hues.

S ongs to beat the hardest times,

I am the darkness that falls in to your dreams
The nightmare that last longer throughout the night
The catcher of fear to lock-up the soul
A snatcher of spirit through a night invitation ceremony
The only red light in the alley of doom
I was feared by many more still counting
I'm only summoned by the strongest heart to fight their worst nightmares
As I do not produce news of trend
I only inflict pleasure smeared with pain endurance
Suffered tears has more deeper meaning than spells collected in my creation

the motel room was only a room
with her in it
In her absence it was
stillborn womb of plastic furniture,
trail of wet footsteps like afterbirth
led to ashes from her last cigarette,
smeared in the bathroom sink
filter tip-stained magenta,
or might be pink,
hard to tell with this myopia.
she had left in a hurry,
with last moonshine kiss
before dissolving in blue haze
without looking back.
I turn on the flatscreen
to sanitize this necrotic silence
eating my bones

With all the hard work done
And the preparations made
It's only in the last few touches
That I am upon the stage

I'm in a large group
Of choristers
Right hand side of the stage
All singing from the same songbook
Directed in the same way

With hours and hours
Of rehearsals
Under the belt
And my eyes and ears
Alert
I am in the moment
And out there

Friendship
Feeling of love
Seeing the real person
In every light in every way
Rapport

I hope for you, a silence
as if sitting with the trees.
No words to speak,
no sound to make
just
a feeling, if you please.

I hope there comes a light breeze
on your lovely face.
You close your eyes,
you take it in
like
kinship, wrapped with grace.

I hope for you, My Neo Friends,
a soft abode to rest,
a cup of peace,
a plate of love,
more...
may you feel forever blessed.

Oh chthonic filigree, optical oracle, pinned firefly
Sound the spell’s dream fugue!
Phoenix feather in the Masonic Mosque,

marble curator’s crypt cacophony,
opal eyes funerary moons with her
decanted ether 
carnival barker
the Tarot of the carnival hour’s hues.