Sunday, December 11, 2011

Who Do They Represent

Who are these cows who lick the salt of man
and wander carefree fields, batting lashes
chewing on their cuds - mindless of the trees.

Who are these tall oaks with shattered limbs
parched of thirst, tightly wrapped in rings
they run society on falsely planted whims.

Who are these herdsmen, dressed in guilt
with fat minds, cloaks and bloated hats.

Who do they represent?

But you and you and you and you and even him
or her and no doubt them.

But in truth, not her or you or them -
.... and sure as hell, not me.

To Feed The Fragments - Of Your Soul

I feel her hands, which strip my skin
unabashedly they slash at me
to peel away her thoughtlessness
looking for the profit in a pound of flesh.

What confessions can I make
while trapped in the quiet of this storm
as the serpent slithers, wrapping me in coils
~~~~ smiling… with those razor teeth
a magician - trying to reshape, not reform.

But I am only me - one single rooted soul
you can bite the apple
but you can't use me…..
to feed the fragments - of your soul.

Friday, December 9, 2011

I Understand

I understand your tears
when drenched …
in sorrows rain.

I understand the deepness
of the furrowed mind
when tilled….   
and the clank of thoughts
when struck against the pain.

I understand your shallow breaths
when I hear the whispered beats.

I understand your cry
when lungs collapse
drawn-in by the ache.

I understand ….
when you don’t understand

But you can understand... this -
a soft heart with a shoulder
to rest your worries
and two strong hands
to caress away…..
your pain.

Is an understanding friend
of the rain.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011


Words, which drift through cosmos
these unreserved utters
immeasurably extended -
in our time…. and space.

But tongueless,
are these indiscernible notes
implied - and misunderstood
buoyant ~~~~ on the surface
suspended - jagged in our throats.

Unspoken words
unpronounced, inexpressible
unvoiced - turned to liquid
in the quiet solitude
uncomfortable - as each letter
and our voice…… swallowed -
melts away.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

You Can Paint Me

When you drape your hands
across the canvas of my skin
can you feel the bristling -
of the brush?

Will you sense the tingling…
the passion of the paint?

Can you see the vision -
that you'll create?

Each stroke….you'll weave
like coloured fingers of thread
entwined in the tapestry of me.

You can paint me in the dark
until the renaissance of dawn
you’re a master of your skills
and I a sculpture…..
of your artistic will.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

No More Day

There is no more day
when minutes turn to hours
and hours fade away
when cascading stars
fall at night……

So close my eyes
to leave it …. all behind
to darken skies
of paradise or parasites,
which eat away.

Then I slip away
looking for a place to hide
on a long road home
to find the relevance of time

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Silence of the Mind

Such cramp spaces
these minds feel
circles, which never end
and cracks in doors
that only peer within.

I touch these walls,
to see if they will bend
apply emotions,
with tethered ends
a balance beam -
hoping for the weight of wind.

To hear the meditation
in the subtly, which chime……..
a peace -  
in the silence of the mind.

Friday, December 2, 2011

Did You

Did you shed a tear
on this windy day
so it would float to me?

Did you caress the sky
with powder blue
so I would look at you?

Did you guide my will
to your salt of earth
so I could taste your pleasures?

Did you hold me
with your penetrating eyes
so I would never look away?

Did you know that I believe in you
more than you believe in me?

Did you?

Some Mirco Poems

He withers in the storm

like a leaf on a narrow limb
holding dearly…. to her
he emotionally swings.

She cups him, in her gentle hands
just underneath his cheeks
eye to eye….she whispers
you’re a precious leaf - to me.

When wolves howl

what choice does he have
- but to join in
for he is only a man… and she
is disguised as a sheep.

What if the sky turned grey
what then… would you see
if the sun hid behind the stars
and the moon overshadowed me -
would flowers wither
and my beating heart….
fade away.

A connection is the hand

that reaches out.
A calm touch -
to caress the mind.
The knowledge of life -
in a dark sky.
A shining light - of a friend.

Forever Longed

The first giggled kiss
where eyes close…
and our hearts pound.

Where excited hands
and fingertips
caress the sweetness -
of her velvet lips.

Hold my neck
hands through hair
a vision of beauty
the reality…..
we shared.

That one sweet kiss
in loving arms -
held in memory
forever longed.


Have you ever dreamed of life
far beyond the stars?

The glory of the mystery
, which flashes by.

A cornered field
to rest your eyes.

Or a summers night
with tussled sheets.

Childhood memories….
and whispers.

And passing cars
on a silent street.

That’s what dreams…
are for.

Beating Drum

One-hundred feet
trampled by….
to the aches
of the beating drum.

Their rhythm
called the souls
, which feel
the stoic virtue
and the thunder -
of the guns.

Fold the flags
dry the tears -
then stand at ease…

Hoist your drinks to them.

These boys, these men
the lads -
a hand upon my chest
I feel you there -

and the ache
of the beating….. drum.

Turned To Kiss

He reaches-round
to caress her beating breast
tender is the moment shared
when pressed against….
the warmth of life.

Dizzy is the feeling felt
to spinning love… and
her expelled breath -
when she turned to kiss.

Wrapped in arms
they hold on tight
never letting go.

Her palm strokes….
down his cheek to neck
weak of knees, he shutters
when she speaks
without a word -


Open nerves
these raw emotions
and now exposed.

He had no shelter
no means to hide
stripped of all his layers…
his skin---- peeled away.

Now on display
he descended down
beneath the crust of air
his heart congealed
within the mess
of unconcealed despair.

While those who watch
- dissect him
piece by little piece
these exhibitionists
they see themselves -