This is always on one’s mind....
where to consolation find

.'''Where to go with you today
Your house or mine just fine....''anon...'''

as long as we both entwine
that is the ultimate desire divine
to swim in ravines
and let rivers flow from mine
to and within
ere the summer ends
and
we forget the golden mine
where then together we ought to dine
reverberating thoughts of the ultimate design

I walked the shore
It changed as was my mood
Cold sands compacted
Hard surface that would hold an elephant
Tiny grains to shift as I
Pebbles as thrown by the sea
Jagged rocks with harsh surfaces
Just a beach that found the world as I did

I salute you night-shift workers
wherever you may be around this globe.
It must be hard to sleep next day,
through morning light and noise.

Some of you put up with a lot.
Taxi drivers for example,
patiently waiting your turn in the small hours,
only to have to deal with drunks
or drugged-up, dangerous men.

Or night staff in A and E, or para-medics,
or prostitutes ready 24 hours a day,
or bar-men or bouncers or police.
All of you have to be psychologists -
specialists in misfortune and aggression.

That high-dollar chess set
doesn't help your game,
the look-how-smart-I-am-comments,
to me, seem lame

but you can't see it,
to you, it's success,
that shit won't help
on a feel-my-words-test

so get it out, release it,
let it fester on the page,
let us see something more
than your juvenile rage

dig past that pocket degree
show us the dirty lint
take us on a journey
make us glad we went

Show me

What little hair I have is white
which peeks from under my hat's brim
as I head home to beat the night.
I pause a moment on a whim
just to look at all I see.

I've stopped between the town and home,
not really country but hardly town,
where both house cats and white tails roam
and not all trees have been cut down.
I shift my weight off old sore knee.

Bryan Adams "everything I do " is now playing
Who needs Spotify when there is iTunes
Listening to iTunes Radio through my headphones
Keeps my depressed state in my bowels
I won't run away with the winds of my mind.

Some got it good
Able to move about with a clear mind
Not confused by the stormy winds of life
Trouble come to visit and never leave
Between two people hoping for a better way.

dirty boots
and greasy hair
wave a cigarette
about in the swirling air

on the matress of weekend sheets
spilled cotton candy perfume
sin and collisions
smeared on the latex
on the varnish
on the tiles

a fan whirls
the sweet motor hum
stirring
long hairs
straying on the pillow
an arm draped
full of soft down
in the light
creeping through
the venetian

full lips parted
glistening in hot pink
and dark sky rimmed
dreamer blues

Most of them are small and may surprise you
with their clean sands and odd shapes,
as you stroll along a rocky, sea-bashed coast.
Few are spoilt by second homes
and many are ringed by fields with grazing cows.

Waters are rough and cold round here
so only the intrepid swim,
but surfers take advantage all year long
of heavy, rearing waves.

Crows... ancient tongue in his ear
as the dawn does break
A shadow against the purple sky
before the earth awakes

Mother earth holds his feet
Father Sun sends the wind
He feels the world enfold him
He loves his forest kin

Shadowed, dark-green woodlands
The waving, golden grains
All the beasts, that roam there
The forest and endless plains

A whispered prayer of thank you
for another day of joy
For the mountains and the water
and the life of an Indian boy

How many eyes have looked, yet few could see
it's clear though, if they'd only meditate.
Among the layers find the real beauty,
just try to comprehend-appreciate.

How many listened, few however hear,
though clear it sounds, the charms beguile the feels.
The ocean waves, the flows and ebbs; a sphere,
a given chance, for everyone's appeals.

Yet, fully occupied, we oft forget
to employ our perceptive eye and pore.
We fuss; we over care for issues; fret
for silly things that healthy souls ignore.