The dialogue of silence
resembles theatre of the absurd.
He’s waiting for Godot -
She dare not utter a word.

He speaks with disdain,
his body language concurs,
she turns away trembing -
“communication”
is just another word.

The wanton isolation
of not being heard.
They loved once
before they recognised the abyss,
before they touched the void.

Anxiety and anguish
Co-joined protagonists
In a play called Folie a deux
Zeitgeist the grim backdrop
To the greyness they’ve found.

when is a poem not a poem?
and does the heart ever let go?

the diamond in the rough
was a handful of indigenous rock
until
its essence was gleaned and
facets were carved with care

there are rubies in the dust and pearls
in the oyster beds, we dive into dirt and
smell of water
we tremble with the light
and light a candle in the hour
that is the darkest

let us remember that only hollow men
dare to sing
when there is nothing left
and this is the way the world ends.

Are you not weary of ardent ways
Tell me no more of enchanted days

James Joyce

Nice to meet you
after all these years
but the person that got trapped in your mind
is one of the many
I have left behind
I presume it is the same with you

Sure, Jimi Hendrix was a favourite of mine
so too, were Traffic, Pink Floyd and Deep Purple
and oh yes!!!
how can I forget?
I carried Emerson and Keats
in my hip pocket

you don't get to remember your last thought
after you're dead
so it's a far far better world to leave if the thought
you think is dipped in dark dark ink

soon even your most excellent poem will leave your breath
and maggots
will invade your space, you will burn throughout eternity
with the apple in your throat and Paradise will not even
be a memory fading from white-lilies of existence.