subways screaming in
the bitter light
like a party lamp
overturned

my retina burn
and this hot rush of wind
stinking of city
and office bodies
the restless and
the chosen
wandering in their week
old skins

the walls lucid crawl
in a flash of stainless
wet like a putrid worm

The eyes, of a soul,
yet to seed more poems,
To help humanity see through
the ailments,
which are not man-made

We may perhaps inherit,
in our genes
But to brave the calamity
and let it not become fatal,
Ere its time,
is the way
one lives a full life with dignity

In your case it,
draws like steel from a furnace,
the tenacity most folks lack.

You are, if I may say,
the epitome of a suffering man,
though the bravest of his brand.

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.

Join the ice cream army, as they head off to the coast
In the stationary traffic, they sit there and they roast
By the time that they arrive, the day is nearly done
Join the ice cream army as they race to catch some sun

Join the ice cream army, sitting safely on the sands
Lazing in their deckchairs with their sundaes in their hands
Basking in the sunshine, laying like they’re dead
See the ice cream army, watch them all turn red