Man’s insanity
Is his sanctity
In tune to living
Within

Deftly ensconced
By his own decisions
In a dellusional Reality

With sightless eyes
He sees the bloodstains
On hands that no longer feel
Yet ache for the softness of life
Still the voices bid him
Kill

Sleeplessness is the
Norm of his nights
When dreams come
They arrive in color
The deep garnet of blood
Forever imprinted
In his fevered mind

Streaks of fire fly through the night
Cool hands of wind run through my hair
I exalt in breathless flight
Man and motor growl through the air

Cold machine, with hot beating heart
You send a chill to my inside
I get a thrill each time we start
We need a twisted road to ride

Let's ride this road of pleasure
Fast, and faster still
Let's take each other's measure
Until we've had our fill

Cursed or Blessed

Oh the pain and pleasure

of the living soul

The agony or the ecstasy

It’s our decision

Individually alone to make

So inconsequentially

Which road to take

The living hell

Each breath does make

Oh fool you of the fleshy bondage

Are you not at all aware

of the irony of your senseless groping

The endless pain of love forsaken

Or the noncommittal chances taken

On a grand scale of nothing ventured

Nothing gained

From all loves pleasures

Vampires of Oil, our friend attacked.

Our friend.
Our friend.
Mona
is under attack.
American, English and French bombs are tearing apart
her village,
her hospital,
her people.

To protect her people,
with depleted uranium shells
amongst her people.

You heard it on the news.
Protecting democracy,
protecting the Libyan people
by killing and poisoning
the Libyan people.

I accept the hollow glow of witching hour
and allow it to hold me tight,
immerse and enthral me.
Cast it’s spell against tormented light.

I feel the night consume me.
exhale a calm and even breath.
Sink into the obscurity of my life.
Staving off grim death.

Devour and suck the marrow,
Pick me clean of my plight.
Body ready for fight or flight.

Long time lived

High gravity days
pass so slowly
in a grey haze,
days never-ending
mean, I guess,
my life is subjectively

extended.

I must confess
it feels I've been around
for a thousand years
more or less.

It ain’t all bad
in dark extended times
not even sad
I do my FIGJAM dance,
now and then,
for the nature of me is

irrepressible.

So maybe when
I meet my young man’s death
I won’t lament,
A life misspent,
but glory in its joy.

Hr. H. marmalade high

We’ve had our own war it seems
closing down shops, one was called
Fortnum and Masons, where the rich
spend, and we can but only
spend time, well we can’t go
around always’ like the Ostrich.

Some were arrested, others hurt
a policeman’s pride at not being
able to protect Lizzie’s marmalade shop.
Think it’s closed today, tired from
all the cleaning, heard them say “untidy
that lot did you see the hairstyles?

Think of the song, your own music…

`

When I found the time to be
I found that time had passed me by

When my dreams had set me free
Life set its bounds upon the sky

Should my spirit soar above,
the sun above my wings did pluck

Should my soul find love,
you'd find my cards had no such luck.

Though we predict the end,
we jump into the cloudy veil

We quest for dreams, traverse each bend;
the seeker's heart in us prevail.

`

Love Land

There is a place among the clouds where music plays, sweet and low.
It is a place where love and lovers continue to go.
Where loves never grow old or cease.
It is a place where there reins serenity, and peace.

Honeysuckle hangs from every latticed walk.
Roses fill the air with fragrance thick.
Where lovers go hand in hand as they talk.
Where jasmine, scents the starlit nights.

.
little worlds
spinning
gyrating
dancing?
in the sun

to what music
do they dance?

swaying
and swirling
across the beams
ever so lightly

there must be music!
tiny indescernable bands
or mariachis, maybe?

unimpressed with my presence
or disruptive sigh
they waltz on and on and on
unperturbed

I watch
I wish I could hear their song