The primrose and the primula
Are really very simula
But out in Wales
The slugs and snails
Make both of them look grimula

When we were children
We knew nothing of this planet
In the wood we’d build our dens
Play war games with our plastic guns
And cowboys and Indians
Then I’d be the Lone Ranger
Or Roy Rogers with Trigger,
Sledging in the winter
Swimming naked in the lake
In the heat of summer
Playing doctors and nurses
With the girl next door
We had no idea what to expect
The world was an adventure
A great big planet
Waiting to be explored
Yet, now we are grown, we find
Life did not fulfil its promises

there is more to loving than having sex
so much more to hugging than french kissing
in passion I cry, be my love always

not just my lover

make me rain in the late hours of midnight
let my heart sing bump bump tonight my love
the pressure builds inside my limp body

listen to bones crack in my inner tighs
feel joint slip out of place welcoming you
stand up as flood gates burst open suddenly

The hot steamy masses flow freely from
passion bellowing everytime we make love
in passion I cry, be my love always

The dark clouds to the east;
the sunshine to the west;
the gentle breeze that hardly trouble the leaves
and the barely felt drizzle;
They all remind of the day you were born;
it’s like all them weather wanted to be the one to welcome you home!

A Thunderstorm is brewing!

Why do i keep raining from my eyes?
Turning my own sorrows into bitter lies
It is just a storm glooming a cloudy day,
thunderstorms and flooding from my own eyes,
the gates that
burst a ton of water..then
another river of emotion drowns.
me away completly, The question,

" How to kill these frowns?"

before i end up swimming in a lake of sad,
Thunder is now sounding!

"Have i gone 'pletely mad?"

I finished my Chinese meal all at once
and stared at the cookies like some sort of dunce.

When I read my fortune I did not understand
from the small piece of paper, I held in my hand.

It said that my next days wouldn't be "fun",
and that my plight was to live like Attila the Hun;

I wasn't real comfortable about eating alone
but, I paid off the bill and went straight to the phone.

I placed my phone call from the diner's phone booth
in search for my date for lunch, my friend Ruth.

Dawn- slayer of pretense, usher of youth-
you, born anew as passing season,
wield those luminous swords, sharp and uncouth,
and absolve ignorance of reason.
Are you not the mother of sweet knowledge?

Dawn – light of tunnels, well of Saharas-
You, of divine hue, alive in Dark’s death
when all that’s fair is stripped of myrrhs
And Life’s Eden is, fast as youth, but heath.
Are you not the promise that Hope is nigh?

—Mini-anthology: Hepatica—

He danced on Love’s fiery coals
their heat exciting his heart
as Lent lilies by Wind’s tune.
His quill mercilessly bled
lucid verse on his ardour;
and his violin’s serenades
infused night’s serene quiescence.

Ah, but this cruel absence
his sanity now pervades
and strips his heart to the core.
Yet he by Love’s promise led-
drawn into approaching monsoon-
yields and partakes of the hurt
as no memory recalls.

Head bowed, he’ll stand- in his hand,
a lonely withered camellia.

If elephants consume your plants
And devastate your lawn
Don’t run about or scream and shout
Just wait until they’ve gawn
For elephants are very large
And everybody knows
It really really hurts
Should they step upon your toes

Footsteps On The Staircase.

Hearing footsteps on the staircase
a young boy is silent in his room,
only moonlight from the window
brightens the darkness and gloom.
His heart beats fast, fear increases
as an angry father opens the door,
staggering drunkenly towards him
to inflict violent cruelty once more.