how happy can Loved be can you imagine
for siding me
the world of poets have taken my advice,
more compose freer verse
and avoid being routine-sh terse
many no longer adopt
ab ab ac ac
and what have you,
if Loved didn't exist
nor would have Shakespeare too

So be yourself and express
what you need to say
poetry is just an emotion
a flow of feelings
a desire only to ease tension
as more share with you gradually
so thank
Lovedly

Snowing in the angel garden.
a hush soft and stilled is waiting.
calamity unfolds her pure wings,
and sheds a feather.

She will not shiver.
her warmth is strong!
the muse delivers,
a quill,
a charm.

The fire speaks
stirring sharp, its
textures through
the ash stained glass,
making dancers in the dark.

And in the foyer all
alone, the eucalyptus
stands in a jar of stone.

It's four A.M. the cold wind blows
seeking entry into silent house
yet tired eyes refuse to close
pen darts on paper like a mouse
transfering thoughts and verse from mind

Through the window sickle moon
slowly slides across the sky
daylight will be breaking soon
as frost forms on a land turned dry
on mantle, clock gears slowly grind

Insanity is
another face for one coin
called humanity.

Your absence has been branded
Cat ,
where once in a while
in the universe we all call wilderness,
thou escapist to make folks wonder
where the poet has eloped
and when the return is un-sounded
hearts begin to thump again
poets like me are grounded
is it you once again?
I can't believe my weary eyes
some tear drops always remain,
anyhow that's my luck
twill always be the same

those who love me are very few
almost nil 'tis true

There’s a gaping hole in my chest
where you tore my heart from me
You took the parts that were the best
left my mind in misery

I’ve been zombified

As I walk amongst the living
no soul left to me
It’s no breath of life you’re giving
I’m not ever free

I’ve been zombified

And the music that you play
keeps me chained to you
While you pipe away the day
there’s nothing I can do

I’ve been zombified

stutter

Spit and grip on the freedom tip.

Dig the street rhapsody,

soliloquy of the disenfranchised

who witness the lies, alibis, bought and paid for,

playful no more. Meet pissed with a fist and get the gist

that an ignored scream is better than a pliant whisper.

I can't remember an ember so limber it locks in to box in

the hatred. Smoldering, holding in

the ten word long expletive before I begin again.

This sail is full of wind, the volume is kickin' in,

THE THORNED ROSE

there was no softness
in your anger
no love in your eyes
those times
that made a young heart
stop beating.

Your tears became mine.
I was your child
not your consolation.

And the day you died
did you see me
standing by your side
or was I
your last illusion

draw a day deep
her tide shelter
the kelp and cockerels

the winds carrying
burning peat

I fear that you are beyond change
....prove me wrong

That compromise to you is strange
....prove me wrong

I think arrogance is your true self
that you think you are a king
and your way is the only one
that none can teach you anything
and you control the tides and sun
....prove me wrong

I don't think you mean what you say
or even care what others think
you think you're on some holiday
....prove me wrong