Sometimes,
on the frozen edges of old night,
I sit upon the back-door steps,
flakes of snow still wandering through
the yellow glow of back-porch light,
and in the frost-breathed dark,
dusted by a swath of watchful stars
crowding close around the house,
I hear winter's whispering wind
through the leafless snowbound oaks,
and it brings back memories of the sea
a thousand miles of lifetime away.

My heart is like an open book when it comes to you, I never thought any of my dreams would come true when it comes to you, now that I have you I don't know what better to do but tell you I love you, each and every day that I think of you, which is nonstop twenty-four seven my book of love to you is always open like a seven-eleven , in my book it begins with I love you and ends in I will always love you, so many pages so much love and it all goes out to you, you flow like a river in my brain, your always running through my head, no end in sight not from what I see, through the good and

I'm feeling frisky
Can we be a bit risky?
find some little alcove
and share our love
I've never been so brave
but you, right now, I crave
Is that a sound of condemnation?
No, cos here you are at my work station
You say "I need you to do some filing"
I outwardly moan but can't stop smiling
never has it felt so right
can't wait for more afternoon delight

I grow saddened,
our streets
have begun
to flow
with blood

our offspring
run wild,
animals they
prowl the streets
prey on the weak

king hits
and glassings,
blood forks
and the rivers
run ever deeper

police
overwhelmed
medics
understaffed
trying to stem
the flow of death,
rapes
bashings
shootings
murders

our children
are dying
our streets
show signs
of war

and still, we sit
and do nothing