Who the fool….

Some lie there on the bed of fools
finding so little insecurity.
Not one will search for a meaning to life
none will be asking what is an obscurity?

No answers will come raging forth, so
they can make their own conclusion.
Running faster now downhill, are we
escaping the madness or is it a delusion.

I see old hands now, where
a piano players fingers used to be.
I’ll be deeming this totally unfair
reaching for an enigmatic key.

A barren branch still reaches out
o'er withered seedling's callow chance;
still wick within, pulse beats throughout
a barren branch.

And there, despite life's fatal glance,
beyond spring rain or summer drought,
our majesty begins her dance.

Her pirouette glows beyond doubt
past naked limb of stretched expanse;
regeneration gleaned to sprout
a barren branch.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Roundel (poetry)

You hold your head down,
Unsure how you feel,
A week ago this didn't
seem real.

But it is, it's here,
A part of your life,
Not here to get you
into strife.

Maybe a chance,
New path, new beginning,
I know your head is
probably spinning.

A change of path,
Detour at most,
Allow and opportunity,
A form of growth.

Options are out there,
To help those like you,
Whatever you choose,
I am here for you.

I started the day with shit attitude,
watching sunlight
through sheets hung
like curtains,
feeling as if I had this would be life –

and I knew how things changed
time moved forward,
just as I knew
that I wanted to believe
I was the only one
covered in denim
and faded under a summer’s sky

but I listened
with half-cocked ears
hearing only every other word
from cabbie’s mouth