Nov 22 2009
When hello is goodbye
I chase after them
to be my friends
I let go and there
is nothing there
I fall and no one
catches me
When I love you
is I hate you
betrayal is an odd
acquaintance
Doubt is the daily
drink
Confusion guides
all decisions
When the past
is your comfort
the eyes miss
the moment
the now slips by
unnoticed
and tears
never stop
copyright 2009
Jun 11 2009
Broken sleep
dreams deprived
of dimension
Looking for home
I want to go home
Where is home?
Mind aims askew
time ticks away
Focus lost
Looking for home
I want to go home
Where is home?
Mistakes logged
no do-overs
doomed to the future
Looking for home
I want to go home
Where is home?
Wandering soul
seeking the safe
any open door
Looking for home
I want to go home
Where is home?
words & image copyright 2009
May 25 2009
Closed in. Trapped. Craving space.
Craving quiet. Lonely.
So tired.
Unwanted. Cold. I shiver in the sun.
A cliche. Past its prime. out of sync with the rest.
Lost in a sea of tumult.
Turbulence.
Beyond the bend of agreement.
Gnawing at the edges of rational thinking.
Empty
What lies inside?
Not safe to go there.
I am the debris
of an exploded star.
Gravity pulls but doesn’t capture
the spray of particles
that hover and dance away in approach.
Nerves jitter and jag
Flop me - a lifeless puppet
soul drifting toward no space, no time, no thing.
Alone. Always alone.
Distant. Disconnected.
Passing time with cigarettes and
desperation (dispair-ation?).
Friends wear foreign faces.
Home is a closed door.
I am invisible.
copyright 2009
May 19 2009
cigarettes & cell phones
sultry summer sky
random thoughts
of filmy futures
followed the butterfly’s
path of
lazy nectar search
basketball hoops
snoring dogs
i slept in today
and the world
didn’t stop
the silence
was comfort
my mind
hummed soft
in pastel colours
and gentle souls
flitted by in
mutual affirmations
time does not
touch me today
the sun freckles
my shoulders
and birds
have their own
language
that whispers
to children
& oldsters
as it dances
past on
the breeze
copyright 2009
Sep 26 2008
The doorbell rings
and I find
scattered
rose
petals
scribbled with words.
copyright 2008
My task…is, by the power of the written word to make you hear, to make you feel - it is, before all, to make you see. That - and no more - and it is everything.
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