Oh! How can I forget your face
The tenderness, of your embrace
Your precious smile your gentle kiss
These things, I know, I’ll always miss
The way you’d squeeze and hold me tight
And making love all through the night
The way you’d talk the whole day long
Or sing some sad old country song
The times we had, and we had some
But sadly now the time has come
For this will be our final parting
But I won’t miss your constant farting

Your green eyes betray your mouth,
my old love,
you say you are not lonely and you are
happy to live alone again
you say you don't need anyone to make
you whole, neither do I, perhaps you've
just forgotten, perhaps you never understood

my wedding band
is a golden crown of thorns I haven't worn
for years, but I know with certainty that
love is not a jaded or angry face,

Today after years
a Swedish Nordic poet
was awarded
the NOBEL

Someday when in the bushels of time ,
we surface more simpler than naive
perhaps our faces shall reveal ,
the purpose of mankind
....hopefully...................

Forsaken moments ravage sour memories
forced to form a never-ending yearning
that excruciating agony has carefully sewn
to keep me bound to his own tiny headstone

There's understanding Chronos does not heal
but forms a scar that, with time, simply fades
to every other's vision but my own
and sometimes I have fancy that he's been betrayed

choice words

Can you dream up a wind or be seen by a sound?
Does your heart count it’s beats, is that which is not ever found?

Strange though they seem these questions are asked
From the depth of a dream with a fact that is tasked.

Will the willow stop bending be the straightest of trees?
Is there no happy ending though we try to appease?

Can you ask of a child what is not known to man?
Do young minds remain wild while ours work to a plan?

In these human ruins
marking time with helpless anger
makes the differences between
this world and the next
seem almost bearable.

Where the clime marks bloody rust
on blasted shoreline factories
deep-anchored in the broken flesh
of slowly rotting city
in its final death-throes,

the hollow houses all collapse
in slow-festering abandon
few could stop and fewer want to,
where eyeless walls stare vacant
at the empty streets,

Never fuck with an elf
for we are subtle and quick to anger.
Wot?!
bloody lie!
We use subtlety if needs be,
as a means to any end.
we'll break dodo eggs to make our omelettes

You wonder why the dinosaurs died?
One farted in my general direction

The plagues of Egypt?
the pharoah dissed my poetry

The fall of the Roman empire?
Nero played badly

but if you really piss me off
I make it slow
lingering and painful
like the death of capitalism.

Okada, the rag tag throng in the south
Of motorbike transportation business
Achaba, the northern name for the trade
Rides on rough and stormy city roads
Trap for broken bones and scarred skin
The morgue is where some make their beds

Carnage on our roads is no longer news
Check the obituary information columns
You will see what I really mean to say
So the government decided on a law
To help the learned and uninformed
An attempt to check casualty figures

jawline twitch
and dusk streaming
like a hot needle
the shaft of hope
between the drawn
curtian
before night sweeps
clean the shadows
and fires her stars
with dreams
that fall

burning
without sound

and the hollow
acruement
of the hours
when I leave
this door

when the mirror
is quiet
and says no more

I shall think of
smokey seasons
eve

and remember
where that ache
shall stay

i.

If ever the touch of my inconstant heart
leaves a trail of snow that must be followed....

ii.

From where dry leaves of early autumn fall,
a sullen shade of rust,
to raise my eyes to hear
the sudden cry of gulls on a grey-misted day
beyond the verse and impasse of wild geese leaving
shadows across the earth,