Sometimes I think
I am a bitch
In what I say
In words so rich
With cynicism and rhetoric
With harshness
Which makes you sick
And evil thoughts
Wishing death
On the worst
of my soul mates

When storms wrack me in my life
you bring back gentle breeze.
When cold acts cut me like a knife
we walk to set my soul at ease.

During times of pain and doubt
I feel you right here at my side.
As my journey takes me all about
like earth, I know you will abide.

The church where I prefer to go,
hand made by time and sun and rain,
Mere chemistry won't make it grow
or let it heal a tired man's pain.

poet’s final resort!
this singular site tis
of the worlds best
here self styled poets
self mutually praise
and double their comment
those like you and i
we finally lament.

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

you have to read a lot friend
and
don’t leave with tears
towards the end

as tears can be discomforting too
then don't say
loved
didn’t warn you

I spied a Sylph upon a lily leaf
and watched her sail- a Captain on the sea.
She dared at speed the knife edge of the coral reef.
She fought the squall with laughter cold and free.

A lotus bloom her banner, spider’s in her lines,
their weavers by the dozen were her crew.
Her emerald gaze was sharper than the flashing tines
of Neptune’s triple scepter sea steel blue.

It was late in history
the cities had flourished,
grown into bound structures.
Bounded by reflective walls.

Our England had shrunk
Into blobs of black glass
Surrounded by tilled land
The realm of machines

The out lands of growth
Machine controlled
Control from the city
Operators playing games

A game called survival
Between each city a link
The new inter city way
Compartmented travel

To lose a day to ennui
Is an abhorrent loss to me

To idle through a waking day
And never leave the path to stray

Where no one else's mind has trod
Thinking thoughts like seeds in pods

That germinate and grow to be
the waves that froth beneath my lee

As my vessel charges full and bye
towards lost horizons 'neath a sky

Of cerulean blue and popcorn cloud
I sing in riots of rounds out loud

To thank my God that I may be
Alive this day of fantasy

no one sees them
as the veils begin to shift
and night falls

ghosts begin their walk
high heels tattered, cracked and worn
jeans stiff from two days wear
jesus dangling between their breasts
at the corner of a downturned mouth
spit and a cigarette gather

jittering and itching they rub their arms
awaiting the next rush and run YEAH !
when the cops are around, night creatures
they scamper and skitter into the shade

rolling through the shadows
keep aligned against the healed
cuts
receipts to worth
this work

sunlight frond
glowing
the manicured malestrom
well heeled
The beast
feels

Rivulet shake
this naked soul
exposed
star fallen

an ambrosia
hidden in a half
turn look

I saved the lip
print succulent
pressed in pages
of a book

our diary of
emergence
a dazzle of
radius
encounter
intoxicant
in the brush
and gaze

cathedrals for sale
also palaces, castles, snake pits
and other defunct objects
of former affection

though beautiful in their day,
the weight of these monstrocities
has left the holding estates in abject ruin
due to lack of interest, brains
and tithes

STILL WATERS

Still waters running deep
passion's fire burning cold
quiet seething of the hear
cursed and forsaken
things we dare not say
and never tell
spoken only in silent litany
and unholy whispers
in a hell
of our own making