supine suppositions
descend
tender snowflakes
meaningful beauty in the cold

the day rolls slow
the pain
the ache
hurting like a wind

easing through the
wounds

A sun struggles to warm
the ice upon my heart
but its locked
and the key is somewhere
in the dark

most don't last in the walk of time
be it anything
poetry or rhyme

most don't care
beyond a single tissue
most take it fast ere it becomes an issue

Only those who endeavour most do last
never be too quick to end up fast…

take your time
prepare the audience of your kind
be it sexy poetry
or just a party

never be hasty
last as long as you can do
life's sojourn is far better
than reaching the destination
I wish you knew..

The fairy king sits on his rock-hewn throne
adorned with silver, gold and jeweled stone.
His heart is bleak; in court the minstrels moan.
He broods in silence and he weeps alone.
His blossom wings he spreads to tower high,
its feathers showered by the silver sky.
All love is gone, a gloomful dawn draws nigh
as lies his queen upon her funeral pyre.
The day is darkened, earth in earnest quakes.
The requiem rite the fairy lords partake
concludes. At last the king will cross the lake:

I wonder if the foundation
For your religion
Is so baseless.
Theology exams,yeah
Nobody aced it.
We cheated
But these people passed us.
Yet they have the guts
To still call themselves pastors??

Undergraduate,postgraduate
Right to the Masters.
I wonder if it is right
To start my pilgrimage
Right from Damascus?
For the sin is so ugly
I have to mask it.
Buried deep within
In righteousness' casket.

Once life has its run
Mr. Luck and Logic meet
They challenge and bet
on who'd win, who'd retreat.

They set out once a journey .
They rode a shabby car.
It only took them half the way
then declined to go too far.

If we spend here this night(they thought)
and get some place to sleep.
It's getting a way dark here,
and dimness'll shortly creep.[/i]

the shift wind light
beneath the pool
the crescent task
of hues long stilled

the drywood floor
mellow with age
the trunks and trinkets
touched with age

shine moonlight enter
the world of dreams
alight alive the archives
center

hinge rove eccentricites
beneath the coil fabric
wire..the bakelite switch
and clear sixty watt bulb

The man, he strives for
Greater depths
The demon sighs, and
Counts his steps

The mortal coil, slips
From debt and wine

The demon laughs-
And cracks his spine

His eye awakes
Within eternal sleep

The demon dozes
On dirty sheets

Step up to the hit parade
keep both eyes on the ball,
every rat must join the race
that's why, they start to crawl.

Born under signs both good, and bad
ugly's in the eyes,
ignore those moving curtains
you'll spoil your surprise!

Avoid falling into a well
don't be silly, or you'll get hurt!
Ol' Lassie cannot save you
from the confinement of the dirt.

When you touch me softly and gently,
All my problems disappear physically and mentally,
Your touch first starts at my spine,
It lets me know everything is fine,
Your touch lets me feel loved,
Like a higher power sent you from above,
Your voice is so sweet, so gentle,
You give me reason to be kindle,
The first time we touched,
I no longer felt the Clutch,
You have the power of Healing Hands,
For this I know you have many fans.
Written by: Trey Jones

this is an universal law

birth, life and death
applies to lilies equally….
but the only flower that survives
in pages of history,
on the shelves of time
in libraries
is a lovely rose only

a rose,
from buttons on coats,
to biers
it’s the most sought out flower…
hence give due merit to me,
there is yet to be a rose born
like ...
Lovedly