My children are drowning
in plastic
and I can't seem
to stem the tide
while they're hypnotised
by bullshit
I'm dying a little
inside

I'm networking
instead of
parenting

I'm raising automatons

My children are brainwashed
with apathy
made to look 'pretty'
told what to do
what to say
and I'm ashamed
a little bit more
everyday

I'm thinking
when I should be
listening

.
waxing rhapsodic
gilded actor of the quill
writing beautiful lies
just for the thrill

two joined, separated
a brother now one
and his brother's friend
a friend that loved
filled that emptiness
that hearth and home
could not mend
one fateful day
their ways crossed
to wayward wend

what tears run streaks
on your redded cheeks
why the furtive pulse
in your eyes it shows
so plain a plan
to bring him back
though a means to do
so sorely lack

A fog settles upon these shoulders
the cape that sweeps across the plains
the biting wind sings its wailing dirge
whose fingers pluck and scrape and snap

Once upon a breath so dreary
the banal landscape stripped away
a peril hunched in fitful slumber
morning promise not guaranteed

When golden shafts part the curtains
and birdsong fills the early air
a once dormant heart rises
thankful for a good cup of tea

I met a Japanese man
Poetry talking we did
Somber old Haiku

His wife sat silent in back
His vision made me see him
She wasn't there though

Flying to Australia
Seeing family again
She smiles her remarks

Rainbows with Golden Lining

You dwell in imagery
I, in an isolated museum
You come to whisk me away
You’ll find me behind
A newer
Golden creation

Like some smashing rainbow,
I will appear in the sky,
Some one will then say
Twas Loved.

Some day
They’ll question how and why,
I’d find my way
Striking gold to become
Shakingspeare!
Ah!
But not shaky
But to all humanity
Having become so lively

.
watching ice cubes melt.
like our love
in a tumbler
...no, not love
but affection.
no, I mean
...you know!
where does it go?

once solid
now
melded
into background
fulfilling obligation,
function, duty

after time,
what's left?
tastess dilution?
tepid staleness?

thankfully,
the buzz
we love in big giant gulps,
remains

`

Who can tell the difference
between gallantry and deceit;
that is clear only to
the querying breeze?

Who could not smell
the pungent heavy cloud
before the pulling of
the petulant wind?

Further, afar off, no one inquires
about foreseen mornings unseen
dreams once winged zephyrs
echo in forgotten hallways.

Perched high on rock faces grim
beneath the humming of the bird,
awash on porous promontories -
failure now permeates the abject soul.

On the frozen verge of land and water
my footsteps ring upon the empty sands
Where the wind touches my face with laughter

Warmth of home beckons with promise of shelter
yet pleasure is held in these open hands
on the frozen verge of land and water

For cold gives old father sun no quarter
and empties all the throngs from summer lands
where the wind touches my face with laughter

No thick crowds now crush and make feet falter
no more park rangers smug their dumb demands
On the frozen verge of land and water

Sometimes it starts this way
you're sitting, thinking
mental gears churning
about nothing
and not one idea
about anything
seems to come to mind

So, you just start hammering
on the keyboard
and, still nothing much
a deletion, then another
but you are writing
which is half the battle anyway

And you realize
that even your
best efforts
are lacking ...... alot
and it's all more or less
worthless ..... to most