A memory,
vague misty grey,
sees a little girl at play.

Her brothers there,
no voice, no face,
just a void of empty space.

Fragmented shards
of clarity
filter through the murky sea.

He threw a fork,
with no intent,
it was just an accident.

A gaping hole
between her toes.
Tears trickling down her nose.

Her parents arms,
although unseen,
lifts her up, as in a dream.

No noise, no sound,
just bloody pink,
swirling round the kitchen sink.

There is an indecipherable complexion in the way that you look at me,
Oh please forgive.

The soft silk sheer veil admits to truth,
Oh please forgive.

Petals falling
Recite lost poetry

Do you still want me?
Oh please forgive.

Weak knees
Fear retribution

Parting lips
Fountain prayers

Oh please forgive.

A black tear
Diluted with sin
Further corrupts ivory

Please.
Forgive.
Let me go.

Do you want me?
Do you own me?

Let me go.

languid lean
the cool embalmning of the screen
the whisper of traffic
behind the veil
nights sequin lights
harsh and tiny
emblazoned
like glitter
sharp little shrine
reclined
on tired sheets
on shrugged off
ideals split ends
and worn heels

television
afterlife
tickling light
in tricks

the gravel park
a cigarette
drawn
in sculpted
mouth
while
clouds as
cold as a kingdom
scatter
visions

Experience cum knowledge
Today ....in fact just now I read a self appraisal

At times I have noticed
one drops words of wisdom
on my poetry,
which is hardly worth a dime
as my best critics chime
always and many rightly pokes
but more than education
it’s the experience ….which counts ….
I taught my mom,…. how to sign when she was nearing seventy… so that she could sign her Will ….

alas! she had nothing left… as her loveliest son
removed all of what she had
right under her nose

*****here within the waking land
where days are spent and love is made
each day's like one more grain of sand
or blade of grass in sunny glade******

On waking I abuse the clock
like on nearly every morning
the silence brings a minor shock
as if I muted some fair warning
my bedmate groans her own distraction

I pat her on familiar flank
then yawn and stretch, let flee a fart
beneath the pillows her head sank
to avoid such a morning start
no surprise at her reaction

An Ode To Country Living

The buzzards in the trees and the inter-net fees
make country life a hassle
and its hard to sing when you're just a king
with a mortgage on your castle

it gets hot inside the old double-wide
when the summer sun is baking
but with winter’s chill comes a heating bill
that’ll make your soul start aching

My Tigers played good
Ran the big plays
Got out played

A big mouth, no humility
Two clowns poking fun
Sore winner take all

Loud mouth quarter back

It's just a game
Win some, loose one
In Tigertown

Stomped by noles
Defense shut down
In death valley

Clemson will be back

But in love-town, a lonely traveler
Walks the dark road of life
Through valley of love

Thought she connected
But you cut the power
To her love for you

A rummage of grey clouds smother on high,
threatening dark and dreary.
Boredom fidgets indoors.
pacing carpets weary.

A mottle of melancholy dawdles,
while amble billows shift.
Tedium turns over,
waking the sleeping drift.

Google eyes yawn, retired in fatigue,
weighed by the moribund void.
The dull of stimuli
arrests the cushions toyed.

The clock thumps away the daylight hours,
with the seconds heavy tick.
Striking every hour
to jerk the mosey quick.

If pain is commensurate with pleaure,
Why do I cry?
If heartache is what I treasure,
Why exacerbate the tries?

If losing is worth
The choosing
Let me not measure
Why I'd be tar- brushed by the feather
That is you!

Pp. 19/10/13

Caught within the crushing grip of grieving,
the preacher told me
“God takes and gives;
it isn’t ours to judge or question.”
Yet when I turned away,
accepting of his creed,
Cernunos took my hand
and tugged me back around
to warming sunrise,
his tails wrapped around my grief,
to whisper echoing,
“Do you wish eternal sadness,
or the spending
of your lifetime
celebrating hers?”