Of Destitute

She watches –
and notes…
that he doesn’t fit
within the landscape –
as leafy thoughts escape
discolour….. fade
to strip the vines
of mind and life –
as he joins the quilted
desperate warmth
of destitute
and strife.

When Life Begins

I enjoy the colour black
which shows
the contrails ==== of time –
a dash of shadow
then a space –
but as dark
as dark is…
then the light of light
begins
to show the close-up
seen or been
and then
that’s when life begins.

 

 

A Tug

Touch my heart –
to look at yourself
in the hope
to feel the beat…
once cocooned.

An anchor released
can feel the sea –
a tug - - -
which draws you near –
or a detachment
drowned in tears.

If She Smiles

If she smiles
will it hurt?

Or does one need a body
with a soul.

If she smiles
will it tear down walls?

Or melt a life
as a casual candle
extinguishes the air –
and sweeps away…
a moments pain.

If she smiles
will it kill the devil….
quickly?

Or just ignite –
another flame.

All The Drones

My blood courses
just so it….
can excite the veins –
a brotherhood
beyond the family
like sugar… villainous –
wicked
unfocused
despite the flame
or perhaps
a war of will
where all the drones…
look the same.

 

Untitled

She stormed my heart
to feed her will
as I sang the song....
of silence
and watched,
as age grew old....
when all the youth smiled -
at the sight....
of sunset.