ALICE

Through the looking glass
like Alice I did step
searching for my Innocence
in a child cuddling in a crib
looking for the magic of a soul
that knew no sin
holding on to myself
when I was three
hoping he will release the terror
within this old man
taking my hand
while we walk together
into the dark unknown
for all that I was will end
with me.

God have pity on my soul.

Franklin Square.

I love to wake in the damp air of Franklin Square,
Watching those irreverent, inverted pissing geisers
Plummet on the great Man, in broad daylight streams

Lost in the ice, what would he give?
For such temperate relief as this.
I breathe in the moisture and look up at the sky of polarized dreams.

All is well, and I fill in the day, with the great slanted colour of rain,
I don’t care if the wind is wild in St David’s park
And sidelong blows, lead trees gracefully astray

Feeling dumped is as a sacked quarterback
Losing the race of life as a missed touchdown
Joy slowed, entrenched in sadness
Spirit of joy stalled, losing a game yours to win.

None to blame but you your self when all is lost in love and war
Decisions are yours in an imperfect world that's strained.
Much self importance and superiority destroys life
and embrace death of insignificant inferior lessors.

HERE I COME AGAIN
hear I come again!
you compose it
on my behalf
and
I will stamp it fast

I only know you do read
and
only you remain agreed
that my poetry does breed

but alas as Jess says
legs up in the air
come and read me,
if you can't come in
at least cum....
he does mean

and

now he is our poetry chef,
I can't or dare not take liberties
ere he mixes chillies
and
rum in my wine
and cuisine

but so be it