Time stops
We watch in fear
Praying for some movement
Heart beats so fast eyes filled with tears
Silence

The March winds ripped off
three panels from under the eaves,
hurling them out onto the street.

I heard the "twi-tip, twi-tip, twi-tip"
sound as one car after
another ran over them,

flattening their form, smashing
the metal into recyclable rubble.
I gathered them up, just to be quite

finished with the annoying reverberation
batting at my brain. Off in the distance
a church bell pealed the 4:00 hour, its song

tong
tong
tong
tong

Pissed-off people tend to wrench and squirm
like worms rising above mud, fouled
with battering toxic rain,
their voices fiery,
honed and strong like steel,
rich in content,
clear intent,
dissent...
hope.

Inclusivity became human obsession,
That in a twist of fate.
Turned our loving kindness,
Into a cancer of hate.

And as progress became our fixation,
It left an indelible scar.
Moving us away from collective beings,
We lost a sense of who we are.

Mere Individuals, in a concrete jungle,
For which nature paid the highest price.
Due to our greed and inhumanity,
Sadly we didn't stop to think twice.

I loved you more
than I loved any other.
Our days were plenty.
Our days were full
until the day it ended for you.
The bells tolled,
the sun set,
but for me,
time stood still.
My heart will ever
beat for you.

The velvet dome of night
was an explosion of
pyrotechnic silver burning
stars.
pin pointing, and poking
out of the expanse of
the universe. Winking,
like a flaming spread
of ice chips.

Have you ever made love in a cool woodland glade
As a soft summer rain on your flesh softly played?
Have you held her more tightly as skin tingles with lust
Both laughing as desire envelopes as dust?

Have you ever made love on warm summer sands
Soft waves lapping your body as silken hands,
Kissed and caressed as night birds flew
As darkness cool blanket brought pleasures anew?

All alone, laid low and lonely
by the ocean's lapping waves.
Fate forgot we've one and only
life to live before our graves.

Heart of mine, before, was beating
till the gods stepped into time.
Said, "you knew that life was fleeting,
that we all run out of Rhyme.”

Laid upon my sick bed sleeping,
breathing out my borrowed breath.
I must leave my loved ones weeping.
Day has dawned: dread day of death.

The table looms before him, stark and uninviting,
a battleground where plates meet judgment.
The critic sits rigid, pen gripped in a hand
ready to slash through reputation, its ink dark and merciless.

In the kitchen, the chef glares through the small window,
a low flame of resentment flickering in his eyes.
Every movement is sharp, precise—a rhythm of defiance.

The dish must speak for itself; his words,
in defence of his art, remain locked in his throat.

I woke. Or did I? Does it matter?
The clock sneered, rang its clatter.
Another day, another curse—
A rerun show, but somehow worse.

I stood to fight for my own due
But fate had other plans in view.
Shoes conspired, the floor complied—
Down I went. My dignity died.

I sought salvation—black, liquid, pure,
A bitter lie I could endure.
But the machine, a metal bloc,
Refused to serve—made me a laughing stock.