Palm oil daughters artisan tramped
plunge eels deeper cousins
the years fantasia in Chibok
contumacy needing child coot as you
hooks worm insalubrious
intangible leukocyte stiff stump oasis
nestle of grimace apt neither clove
tropical hearts beak peaks
tambourine elf's widget wand
to gravitational and scuffle
magi intern........................... love that is
inimical to young pubescent
divulge for mounted shrill incandescence ;
candle light she used reading
wax and glow for bed time prep

Donkeys look like massive cuddly toys
but life's no game for them.
Almost everywhere they bear unfair loads
piled high on their sturdy frames.

In England they're loved by kids:
their smell is pungent, and riding one
is the pure stuff of childhood.

When well looked-after they warm the heart
and seem such enviable pets
that people dream of having gardens
big enough to keep them.

“What about a bit of fun, remember how, when we were young?”
“That was such a long, long time ago, things change”
“But I know it still makes sense, we’d be hidden by that fence!”
“Don’t be silly, dear, Now try to act your age.”

“You know I still find you so cool, so attractive; I’m a fool:
After all these years, how could I interest you?”
“That’s enough self-pity talk, let’s go out and have a walk.
We’ll catch the bus to Doonfoot, see what’s new.”

No one knows where she came from or where she has been
Her heart has been baptized in a world immersed in sin
Walking a destructive path trying to contain indignant pains from within
Removing the stench of humanity that coarsens her delicate skin

She had desires, her flesh rest upon test that left her stressed
Her soul screams in agony from the lassitude of eternal unrest
Lies resembled daggers that simply pierced through her frail chest
And even though she lives; it’s as if she walking in the valley of death

The light ripples
as night comes
and falling
forever falling

I brush the satin
skirts of night,
I ease onto the black
bed of stars

Twirling galaxies
ignite on my palms
to stretch the universe
within my reach

a handful of moons
a brilliant milky way
lies within heavens
lost to our eyes

Rumors of shooting
stars fall in my sight
as I turned around
It was reflected in all

Ask citizens all over the world
to invite immigrants of a different race
(and/or religion)
to their homes on Sundays -
for lunch and then a chat.

They might enjoy the taste
of unknown recipes.
They might have fun
and soon make friends.

The man or woman on the street
does not want war...

Ask politicians (or better,
oblige them with a law)
to study compromise, fair play,
and how to just give in a bit
whenever possible...

lights lit up the streets
of Paris
and
London's streets
so also American

the American doll
of TIME SQUARE awaits
the one who adores
all gals are fair
some are tall
many small

I await the one who will last with me
no not as an American doll
but a pretty lovely one
for Lovedly
as Loved has gone...
technically

Hanging in an Orchard Glade…

They had a life till evil came along,
places to go, things to see and admire.
Both dreamt of lovers, of a gentle song,
instead they have their funeral pyre.

No other animal does this to it's kin,
yes they’ll fight when hungry for food.
As far as I’m concerned they win,
when battling man for common good.

These girls just happened to be there,
upon this same earth as you and I.
Then the imbeciles laid them bare,
two young lives hung out to die.

syrup in these crystalline
image
a spoon poised in amber
deep
swallowing the light
like the hand of night

an hours clasp
touching the pulse
like a black beetle
scrawled
legged
upon his throne
in a wire wound

the silence room
all starpowered
widths

on a hip of a forgotten
sleeper
are the words of a second
guessed dream
grasped
in a link
when morning
shattered
in

a new principle
of garments
from the corner

You may be born any day now, any hour even.

But here I am alone, just waiting,
with a mixture of trepidation
(having seen too many disasters)
and anticipation of a new age,
not old age exactly,
but grandpa age.

Just as long as all goes well
I may soon be able to teach you a little,
calmly, slowly but surely,
fruit of experience,
knowledge of one life at least.