poets final resort!
this singular site tis
of the world's best

here self styled poets
self mutually praise
double their comment

those like you and I
we finally lament.

don’t be amazed
Ii’s not like other sites
where they only praise
money you do so raise.

you have to read a lot friend

don’t leave with tears
towards the end
as tears can be discomforting too
then don't say
no one warned you

none the less
a happy innings
my new friend
to you too!

carousel wickedness
silk maruader

beneath the night
the bare light burns
achieving endless
grim nirvana

knuckles heat against
the threads
the Borne realm stitching
broken bone elocutions
wound like spiral helix

keeps of destinations

the dusk of riders
terse with dust

violet and frenzied

arrival at all deceptions
a great crush of Love
peirced
drug laced and
passioned

sharp as a pang

sure as a fang

Before the tell-tale heart stops
and the blue-blade falls,
before the drama closes and
the audience shuffles out,
exhausted, lame and breathless,

I will tell you one more lie,

my darling tamed beast, my
everything.

I woke to see the north star peeping in,
it shone, a beacon in the sky, bright golden yellow,
dark the blue, as night was not yet done,
though later its eclipse by light from that old sun,
made it appear to disappear from sight,
it only waits for fading light once more,
to visit my sky's open door.

I look ahead, what do I see?
stragglers on the path
of my parents' generation
as they top that distant hill.

The same hill which just
came into view
as the boomer mob approaches it
on the well worn twisting route
which remembers each step
each divide and stride.

And now I, a straggling boomer
turn to look behind
and to my surprise I see
sons and daughters looking at me
just as I looked at those ahead
just as all have looked
and always will

in the midst of morning mist
when shrubs, their petalled branches,
usher towards the sky
and trampled grass, though muted,
utterly refuse to die
where trees, in their devoir,
shadows cast that lull
and heaven, through woolly clouds,
the sun allows to shine,
i sense the heave of tired tides
invade the slumber of the day
till wearily the cumbered mass
retire to the borders of the sway
where wings inexhaustibly wave
at wooded lands and plains,
an eagle majestically climbs
the afternoon to prey

I greet her. She nods, Slowly, Imperiously.
Familiar, yet restrained.
I know her moods as she does mine.
She inclines to my touch.. softly...
We sense the change that is each other.
She is constant, always welcoming,
But with a newness, a freshness, that makes me smile.

purient
cascade

fusilade
hush

candle ice
to be pushed
upon great rocks

whispering their
prayers of winters
death

alms drip by drip
the glisten
the birds aloft
white sketched
in vivid atrocities
wheel

listen

this wounded world
lit about the forty watt
revelations

cold coffee and two
hundred channels
Diazepam tremor dreams

bygone echoes
keys moving rhythmically
saturating kitchen walls

odd globe secreting a stingy glow
while black ribbon smears worn ideas

your locution impeccable
assuaging a thirst conceived by barren heritage

each numinous page
moulded my threadbare soliloquy

now across a pale light screen
orations still exchange

though each birth now sterile
soundless

it still grafts new shoots
but weaker
than the underwood

half our lives we waste
looking what to do
what to eat
and ask others too…

whereas we must realize
we all are individual entities,
what suits us best
we ought to eat,
what suits us most
we ought to wear,
what we must love to say
we ought to speak...
what we must listen
is all that pleases me

think not that the other one is wiser
it may suit him or her
what you are only you know
don’t depending on others
nor your ignorance show,