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XVIII: The Moon

overwhelmed
by ebbing tides
foam does not salt my feet
and blue-bottles sway

farther out in tepid waters
bodies ethereal, erethismic
lost hounds
mourn under anaemic moon.

Silence is pristine
but this was a bizarre night
my mind was on a juggernaut
thoughts running wild

I wish I was at peace
not bitching about you
rather singing a lullaby
to salve my sinking soul

You had me blindfolded
in the dark web of your desire
blinding me in its lightning
just for a thunderous clap

In search of a sanctuary to quench
my thirst with your liquid passion
I chased each eluding mirage
like a Stag in search of his Mate

Life- Clichés and their use Workshop Re-Write

An old crone flaps her lips
cigarette  butt balanced on her toothless grin,
talking about youths innocence,
about how things are.

How life travels so fast
and teenage years pass
freedom never lasts,
and past loves die.

 Preaching the gospel according to the elderly
 the hard graft in the factory
the Forman looking over you.
The story of the working class.

The choices she never had,
and the Taxs that she paid.
The war and the friends 
That she made.

Blindsight

I'd never be able to tolerate
one as eclectic as I am,
so, I really cannot blame you
for going, "on the lam".

In fact, it's quite surprising
you stuck it out this long,
for you're the one who realized, first
that our union was all wrong.

In my defense, I must explain
I tried with all my might,
you'll never know the shock I felt
when Ididn't have things, right!

Scream Like a Hawk

Scream like a Hawk

Sometimes I want to fly as an eagle
Land on a mountaintop
Scream like a hawk
At the way life is

Sometimes I want to run like a gazelle
Into the wilderness
Cry resembling an idiot
Fleeing the way life is

Sometimes I want to swim like a shark
On the ocean floor
Sing like a killer whale
About the way life is

Sometimes I want to act crazy
Run wild in the streets
Strip naked in square garden
And dive into the fountain of youth

TRUE ENDURANCE

It seems that almost overnight
another high rise building rose
far surpassing sylvan giants' height
upon the blue sky to impose

Monument to unknown architect
another tower of reflective glass
and home to commerce's select
a marvel to any who might pass

With its brethren side to side
a forest of steel formed skyline
testimony to man's misplaced pride
( as if Man would suffer no decline )

A special peace poem...

A special peace poem

I don’t pertain the mantle of perfection,
I just love to see my words on a page.
Maybe it’s not so pleasant for others ,
keep reading it may improve with age.

Yours not mine…

To rumble around my big empty head,
with spelling and diction what i covet.
Can’t say what I write will be special,
but I can say without fear that I love it.

Hope you feel the same….

TROPOSPHERE

like a bruise deepening
thinning to the curve
of sky fleshed with cirrus
this bone breadth day
receeds and calms
in cool evening breath

exhausted slumped in
a chair an arm hanging
over Spent and with
heavy lidded eyes
I study the glam plantation
of hills and structures dotted
brisk like bones admist
the greenery and gristle

too tired to swim in the
gentle undulation of the
beachs offering
the dark green waters
restive and sedating

It only comes once /re-write- (cliches workshop)

I ask you to be careful
keep it hush hush
it’s best they don’t know

Now they’ll see it
as nothing
in scheme of things

I am truly interested
to see the end of this

Just close your mouth
so it doesn’t come
toppling down

This way you’ll be free
to do as you please

Some evils are necessary
too do what you must

Steel yourself
for what is to come

Your about to embark
on something
that will be tough

NIGHTMARE IN RED

NIGHTMARE IN RED

And this girl with the blonde hair in the shiny red raincoat
He'd followed in silent but desperate chase,
Had never turned round once, but he hoped that she looked good:
For, somehow, he just had to look at her face...

Through roads and dark alleys, but always this dark night-
His mad world of nightmare had never known light-
And all was deep silence, except for the sound
Of her click-clacking high-heels, a-covering ground

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