It's more of a Friday night though it's a Sunday morn
for the Sun's so alive,filled with lights reborn
from my rusty bed a new hope came into life
a new care for honor but am I worth the fight?
or at least I'm to draw blood from my fist,
back to the trail where I fell dead with a dance and breeze
so that little by little I could retain courage to leave this fright,
whenever the ghost of her is drawn to my dimming sight...
twenty years are wasted in an ugly face of the Earth,

star filled skies hold
those tiny moments
the ones
you look up at and
remember

today we spoke for
one moment

it felt
like yesterday
when skies
were filled with
red tail hawks and
wolf tracks

you mentioned
her name that day
as if a rusty pot
sprung a leak-
the magic boiled dry

we all make choices
to sacrifice satisfaction
but mistakes
can only
be made once

the sky tonight
holds moments of truth
none of them are you

.
scene set
exposition complete
minutiae displayed
exhaustively
music swells emotional proxies
we are hooked
...on something

the play is small
the dialogue stilted
hardly clever
yet, emeshed deep in place and era
this peek into the exotic
via flickering light
in lieu of flat black mundanity
delights me no end

Expender …

I have no need of great monies now
wisdom I find the better value.
To buy the world it won't change
self same green grass sky near blue.

What else is there to buy
when you have it all
You can only grow so fat
or stretch so tall

A better seat at events or games
but are they bought
Or have they been sold to you or
in other words have you been caught

Captured with the self same people
trying to be where you are
Cunning conniving unhappy people
trying so hard to hold a star

"A CRUCIFIXION"
Margaret Ann Waddicor 1st May 2011.

Asphyxiation
crucifixion
persecution
excruciating
words that sear the flesh of life
and bring our death

brief moments
troubled minds can see
these sights of pain
and fear

as flashing through the mind
a vile derision
visions that storm the calm
the peace

Hot, sweaty night with stagnant air
The smell of stale beer
crowding up against the cracked walls
and peeling paint

A black and white Marlon Brando
screaming; Stella.... Stella!
from the little T.V. sitting
next to the window

I see the black and rusty fire escape
through tatted lace yellowed with nicotine
Pop's head lying upon forearm
his mother's face behind his bleary eyelids

A winter morning and frosted windows
fried dough and hot chocolate
hugs and kisses
and better days

patent sunlit chamber
nicotine kisses
this lace wound day
breezing at her golden edge
lays with her rays of light
tumbling like dice

and I wait
with breath
"Snake Eyes"

all velvet plans
are the slow crush
we inhale

and our shadows
sharp like cystal growths
jump in the textures
of gravity
oozing down the
barrier reefs of all
nocturn inhabitants

I give you keys
and you slip me minor
verse one lines
of supple beauty

Revelation Of Time

Time and tide wait for no man as also the changing of the moon,
Yet we would like time to stand still, to have more, certainly as a boon.
Whenever we are facing the sun our faces glow
Then we do know how the time does really flow.

The markets are down and the recession we have found.
We find the markets are surely enough, a big round
Zero, of course I needn’t have to discuss and feel,
How ignorant a person today yourself you reveal.

At last
one less false prophet
.....murderer
........terrorist
........... mad man

Sent to join Hitler
on shared date of death
did any really doubt Assoma's fate?
.his only trial
...................by muzzle's blast
....................guilty
..............by self admission

A single leaf on a tree
Braves snow and wind
My strength
Before it falls