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A New Zealand Journey

I couldn’t hold those ones I knew
there I had to fly northward true
a beach laid out as our stories tell
its course I ran to a place I knew well.

Making haste gathering thoughts
did I know of things gone by
where I should have listened
not made someone cry?

Then other things came to me
As on I flew just by the sea
of a love I had and was so true
then the tear I had, as it was you.

In the arms of folly ::SWAY

There are far too many
idealistic folks
who only speak
and poke
okay joke

This world is racing
at a fast speed
so total greed
is overcoming
power
is storming
like a tsunami

Why the hell
will I not be first only
blast the rest
you may
I am the man
of TODAY

So to you friend
I pray
lose your fantastic
idealistic way
you may
MAY not today

MY HEART, A MINION TO YOUR HEART

The atmosphere was ideal.
Your gentle caress made my heart to reel,
as your lips on mine turned me on,
underneath that shimmering moon.

Then entombed I was in a pleasure,
beyond the value of any treasure,
that made my heart with ardor to overflow,
and my without with radiance to glow.

Folks now no more wonder,
why to you I always run for shelter,
from the wreckages of loneliness in a haste,
for that rare warmth of yours to taste.

HAVE YOU EVER

Have you ever seen a light
Streaking through the sky
Imagined it was someone’s life
That just came streaming by

And when the light had faded
Did it make you question why
We were put, on this earth
And then left here to die

Did you ever see a lightning strike
Felt the tremors from its thunder
Imagined it had pierced a heart
And ripped it all asunder

For such a force to manifest
Did it set your mind to wonder
Was our life here, meant to be
Or was it, just a blunder

PAIN OF REBIRTH

And a time of madness came to be
when hatred dominated men
who set the dire war dogs free
whose howls echoes through forest and fen.

Those howls drove reason from men's minds
turned brothers against one another
severing any tie that binds
even that of child and mother.

The age of false prophets arose
in each religion, every belief system
they deemed themselves the one true rose
labeling all others "them"

One More Time... As Autumn Nears/contest.

The Autumn air is washed and faded
Leftover days from a month ago
Still sunny, but much cooler

The birds that herald morning subdued
Intent on making a living
Nature's bounty grown slim

Chattered warnings like “Morse Code”
Squirrel-talk warning each other
And the deer

The smell of wet dog
Her panting breath painted gray
Excited and alert

Arrrooooo, Arrroooo, arrrooo
Bring it around, Dancer
Show me what you found

Just poetry only

Your poetry is like sugar
leaves
in autumn trees
okay leaves
no need to crush them
for the sweet fragrance
is passing extinction

you are a poet of class indeed
in the list of best many poems
when will we achieve or attain
such a moment
of holding hands
in the Garden of Roses
where I hope to be, one
sought after by everyone

a blue bird of narcissism
an egoist poet
off the cuff in the desert

Three O Clock Gristle

Innocence has no color.

For a ghost, even, to be respectable

the time must be there to fill.

The bell, the sigil, the 3:00 gristle.

The time must be there to fill out
in a symbolist snowflake

or a panning angle,

or something, maybe, inside you.

We have no such luck. Why are you
hung in a frozen oasis in midday,

I asked? Mon frère?

Why are you pale and blue?

The bell, the sigil, the 3:00 gristle.

A watch straddles the sky, it dissolves

in a PI string. He squeaked in my

LET COMPASSION LEAD

Let our gift lead others to excellence,
let every soul relish its fragrance.
Our gift should always make us significant,
and never portray us as arrogant.

Our everyday life must reflect kindness,
only the arrogant ones are kindless,
in all our ways we must shun arrogance,
to maintain the status of significance.

Let our hearts be opened to compassion,
and let's daily be filled with this passion.
Be careful your gift is just a segment,
not harnessed will ebb into fragment.

JUST A THOUGHT

I had a thought
The other day
About the things
We do and say

From vicious words
To words of praise
Our acts of love
To our malaise

Why, we as humans
Have such extremes
From mass destruction
To building dreams
BOEMS BY JA 196

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