On a day much like any other day
the morning sun was returned on time,
a brightly summered tuesday morn
acurately warm, with a breeze sublime.

Streetlights have been back on schedule for hours
courteously using the yellow before the red-light,
comparitively, no evidence remained
of the rude, practice drills, creating havoc all night!

Eightly a.m. and most all was quiet
a suffocating deafness liltly lingered in the air;
night's canopy removed her dank, darkness,
then left her humming, silently of desert despair.

Meet me in a neon city,
Brought against your will,
A strange new reality,
Humanity gone,
Replaced by some sinister plot,
A dark machine at the head of it all,
So struggle to be free,
Struggle for me,
I might not last,
They line up poets like me,
And shoot us down in the street,
To clear the way for their new society,
You will be free,
Trust me,
Step inside the dark machine,
Tear it apart for me.

"Yankee..Hotel..Foxtrot"

sizzle they come
the jealous hearts
firing salvos

black smear envy exploding
in beautific cordite bloom

Nose cone eye
unblinking
guiding beneath my seat

This azure night as still
as a ships bottle battle

the skin flank hissing
the afterburner churning

and yet how my heart
holds its heat seeking
love for thee

hurtle on morning sweet as
a cherubs smile
we shall wreak death at midnight
fitter sleek machine

fire an arrow and bring the sun down
that's how I learnt
the Red Indians brought the moon upon earth
and
now it at least shines
for half a month
so why not try it with the sun

half begun
any battle is half won
sun or no sun ,
the sojourn is on
blast it sorry,