Oh you are a one
first the root
healing golden
light like lycra

encasing and squeezing
the shite out of you
C'mon hurry heal
from the inside

Namaste nasty
don't you agree?
Breathe in
Breathe out
Shake your toosh
all about

Snake oil
spiritual samplers
Get your 'Enlightenment'
remotely
Really? Really?

Riding nightmares to the war
he screams out his battle-cry
No-man’s land is lonely
he sees the bodies sent to die

A blackened field; trees burning
the horizon flaring red
He knows the streaks of fire
have come to claim his head

No sleep for him, or rest
for his weary soul
He cannot claim a victory
he never reached his goal

Supposed to bring his buddies home
He promised all of them
We’ll get through this boys
though how’s beyond my ken

where is God?
then you will feel no necessity
of expressing such a desire
as within each one
burns a fire
of remorse
some time or the other
of anguish
as we live never together
in a modern world
flowing passed a violent current
of permanence
which we call
Impermanence
all things must change
as only impermanence remains

pair of twin
sleek ribbed runners
beneath the ribbons of star

streamer dreamer
let these pale eyes
wild fill roam

flight towards
a dusk
fleeing from a dawn

strike fast the hours edge
layed surrounding
tender flesh

love letters of
words
cast in the hue
of bruise

the cry tithes

If you're an adult
or a child,
civilized or
living in the wild,
let mother nature
guide, nurture and lead,
then all you need
is to imitate
what she would
naturally
illustrate.

God has always
educated mothers
what they need
to educate.

They're an eclectic company
who lie beneath the late spring sun
far too many, far too many
each some loving mother's son
all of those who've gathered here

Some from the war between the states
others thought they'd end all war
or stopped Hitler spreading all his hates
and Koreans on that distant shore
Vietnam took many who were dear

Triangular, rectangular,
the horizon full of houses,
the trees a minority like toys placed in between,
out of place in man-made rows
like flowers in parks, arranged;
society is military,
ordered, tidied, clipped and swept,
while nature watches from the woods and hills,
she wonders as to why she feels made alien,
when it's she who is the keeper of our souls.

THE CHOSEN

Where is the womb
that held me.
the voices
that comforted me
and the love
that saved me
from the beast within
that tears and rips
into nothingness..

Where is the old wisdom
that took away my fear.
Do the dead see and hear.

Is there a God who knows me.

She sits right beside me

Delicate and earnest

Her stunning hair flowing

Like flowers in the breeze

And I believe that she is

More romantic than a rose

Puts on more charms than orchids

Expresses more passion than marigolds

And she is outright more beautiful

Than calla lilies

Though all these things I say

Are true to the naked eye

But one will not know

That she is more unstable than dahlias

For monkshood flowers should be present

Wherever she is

Phlox are sweet dreams

a poet true
is one who creates anew
and
treads not on the beaten path
already trod upon
you are one such one
that makes you ,
you…
a classic poet are you!