Faced a world of clattering steel have I,

Kissed the horrors that couldn’t let me die,

Bonded with curses that pierced my roving eye,

Upon a powdery bed of bones my heart’s stifled cry,


I swing a dastardly weapon with a thirsty edge,

Wooing enemies with long toothed grins into my bed,

The sound of thunder and drums booms flirting with the end,

It was mine long before theirs oh if I could only smile and pretend,

And then?

Decimation would surely come,

The winged creatures would plummet from above,

Into the subliminal wilderness tumbling from my shove,

Lying in a shallow grave with the others I’ll lick my wounds when I’m done,

What of love?


15:30 Cup of Tea

Once the lid lifts the emptiness can but escape…

The essence rises disappearing into the senses,

I’m open…

Boiled to perfection by waters that cleanse as a matter of decency,

This particular pot is for contemplation,

Is this me?


A cupful for us both then, well met I’d say,

No sugary vagaries we’re natural in this madness,

Been at this tea party before,

Just not so with such company…

And not ever with this wild special blend,

It has me gingerly reaching,

Towards the light…but I am so alive…


The inside of a burnt black pot,

What an odd place to hide?

No more,

You too said so, promised on your lips,

That taste is bewitching, like cinnamon sprinkled childhood,

A whole forest on my tongue, the little leaves rustle…

In that last sip there they are,

Looking like they want to be rescued,

And I would oblige them if I wasn’t in such fine company,

They can wait, I say and I agree too…

My needs are clear…

From now on, you all pay for your own coffee…

Rabbit Eyes


The wind has been whistling beneath my feet,

Tickling me into shivers as I chase mine out in the street,

I don’t look too far nor stray in any away,

But I feel my wonder canter wherever my disposition will play,

I roam with unmeasured intent like a falling leaf,

Just staying afloat waiting for the down to bring relief,

Since I’ve left my tree I’ve lived each night for each day,

Pulling the strings with the crystalized blotches on display…


It feels like I need keys to hark back to,

Keys to open me up to what they say true,

These flittering things that protest to know me,

As they hold on snugly and reduce me to what I used to be,

It actually seems that changing tides will not wash through,

With time slowly drowning maybe they have only made me see askew,

Through the haziness of the bubbles that captured the dreams I set free,

The ones I was so sure that if I pursued on my own would fill me with glee…


They riddle me with shame as they burn in my heart,

They ridicule me in blame when I don’t learn and fall apart,

I saw it in those Rabbit Eyes as we met so unexpectedly while crossing,

My brother’s heroin bent instincts were to flee without stopping,

But love haunts the wicks in the depths of his soul shaft,

Just as I am haunted by his face I see on those lost,

Ambling vagrants outside in the wind tossing,

Wondering if any of this is worth stopping…


Watching The Day

An egg yolk sun shuddering purple rises,

Pasting the immediate horizon sky viscous orange,

A paler grey blue covers the greater expanse,

Where the dark shapes of the early risers flap away,

Their squawking symphony a reminder of life’s plans,

Waking thoughts thrust aside the fugue of sleep,

The bones crackle as muscles yawn with rubbery tautness,

The light is upon us it cannot be but denied,

By squinting eyes that would not see to it bidden,

Dawn so incredibly fixed in its breaking ways,

Coming with such supremacy its glory in its savage rays,

Slicing swathes of warmth like the smiles of golden children,

Tickled and subdued into serenity like the reflecting dew drops,

Soon to be gone into the thin air that breathes,

Calling this day beckoning to me too,

Alive and well I walk into it…

Screaming Crimson

Screaming crimson lips dried of sugared words,

A barren stretch of cracked volcanic surface, kissed by thirst,

From deep in its hollows ready to burst,

To feed or drink the heaviness is purpose, a wretched curse,

The voice of the mind a shuddering lightening,

Instant flashes qualms screeching in the shadows, surely frightening,

A thundering on deaf ears that reprimands politely,

Behaviours reigning wild in unspoken shallows, the intentions biting…


I looked back once and already it was fading,

Like a single blood drop in a sizeable heart of water,

Softening away with the enigmatic speed of musing,

For a second, second I felt something while I was gazing,

Liquefying my insides were not about any sort of order,

Sunken reason, knew all too well that it wasn’t worth refusing…

So I looked back twice and gasped at my own foolishness,

Feeling braver than a red sun oddly rising on a gloomy day,

As if the improbable is nothing, like a kiss without a forlorn stare,

From first light to just before last, rid of all prudishness,

It was a little less now, as it seemed immeasurably further away,

Not so much as a whisper secreted through the touch of lips that dare…

So I looked back a third time as if I had something special to tell,

Something so profound time would surely give back what it has taken,

So that all my spoken words could at least soften and free my one feeling,

But I’m afraid it was just the questions that burned me straight to hell,

Opening the ground beneath me as it was my entire world that was quaking,

Overwhelmed utterly with a peculiar sense of falling I finally grasped the meaning…

It would seem I was always looking forward at what lay before me,

Through glistening tears that blurred memories that were,

Mirroring phantasms of what I thought of you,

Apart, there’s something rattling loose and free,

Of its resolution one cannot be quite so sure,

At the very least, both our hearts are true…

Third Side

Who ever tells the third side of the story,

That witness account that’s never really perceived?

Without even a voice to state the lies poorly,

Or a mechanism to believe that we ever disagreed,

There was me and what I was long ago told,

Together with a wisdom watered down by exploits,

And there was you, with what you will keep until you old,

More than a passionate faith that punctuated your points,

I saw, you heard, but did either one of us really feel,

Anything beyond that singular first-person basin,

Something pulling our insides outside of our real,

To expose the epitomes that we were both chasing?