Today I noticed how the sky
looked without you by my side and
I was surprised that the promised
doom appeared to have departed
along with your final goodbye.
Why couldn't you have left sooner?

Future Past Intense

My future now is in the past,
Events that happen, happen FAST
And even she; who once was mine,
I seem to anger, all the time.

Unsteady on my feet, I fear
Another fall, like that last year.
When crumbling bones left me in pain,
Still hurting, don’t want that again.

Old age has little to commend it
(The Parkinson’s alone might end it)
Our hope grows fainter, will they find
Solutions, cures for damaged minds.

chauvinism erode dog-eat vivarium
sabbatical squares
forehead appendix two logs
young at heart dies
shallows vapour black crown behind
uneven brothers at unrest
in pizza modicum
the storage capacity
of crocodiles computers kin
well aware of fledged from fire-wood
carrying transparency shallot
scullery of gagger shank

She was a sequoia seed
Planted in a pot and
Fed rose rations

After all
Who doesn't like flowers?

peace and quiet please
active granddaughter, age two-
silence is golden

Stratford-Upon –Avon …450
The bard
Ladies and Gentlemen…
Today some 450 years away
An infant was born
to become the Bard
Who’d
never be forgotten
by not only Stratford –Upon- Avon
but
The entire world

Such souls come once
in one’s life time
to live
In the hearts of memorable humanity
for times immemorial

So let the world join
in the memory of the one
who composed theatrical poems…
those live in their existence
even today
450 years away.

The wisdom of trees
Is the shadow of the sun
As yin is to yang

Upon reflection I suppose this is
the inevitable conclusion of
the circumstances that first brought us to
this point in our sad, intertwining, lives.

I am compelled to ask you, to question
your motives, to query your reasoning,
and to try to understand how you might
have considered you would ever succeed?

Tell me, if you would, before we end this,
just how you came to the conclusion that
anything you do could ever be more
than the most pitiful inconvenience?

the ideologies of coma
procreated by totems of the Arabs T.N.T
bouquet at windowside.....
her drift
of skirmishes
that crave becoming of air

this other world
opiate in the eyes
inner self semblance

two men enter
both will drink
i see him in the window
blurred
the man who writes at night

has it already
been a year?
has it even been
an hour?

from the lists of names ignored and forgotten
flashless, the fool finally finds a field
and blends among the graying stalks
that slowly in silence erase
their once proud names