We could have had a shot you know

But here’s the world laid real low

Four years with a caricature.

Hands on my eyes -

Tell me when it’s over

I’ll be off, see you soon

Can’t watch this while sober....

How does nothing fit into a sentence?

Loss stuffed into swelling syllables

By a white coated man with

God in his words and pain in his eyes.

Nothing to echo round the empty consonants and vowels,

But the agony of his poor widow's howls.

He died at 5:13am at age 50.

Future folded. Once then twice.

Straining against the torn edges

Of the words.

They say the minute hi...

A gentle brush

Of music’s touch

Is what keeps us planets

spinning.

Like some lonesome music box,

Our forgotten beauty mocks

The emptiness singing....

My city is pompous businessman with jiggling jowls.

It is tired toddlers ' dramatic howls.

It is tumbling, tangling streets.

Recycled air just repeats and repeats.

My city is the panting from endless inclines.

It is the homeless with damp cardboard signs.

It is the quick steps and averted eyes.

We run through our fingers grumbles and sighs.

My city is the rain, storms and sun.

It is a story bare...

She is the kindling.

She is a smoldering promise, dwindling.

She is the hollow vessel where sound bursts to life.

Yet she is born with the tender reverence of a wife.

She is smoky ashes where a memory belongs.

She is a nothing among the throngs.

She is imperfect, scorched with age.

The owner steps to her luminescent cone cage.

She ignites, first notes licking timidly at the listeners like young ...

If only we could stay young.

Fresh pink skin.

Glowing under the setting sun.

Ready for the tumble of life to begin.

Our coming misery’s as yet unsung.

Still a poem unfolding within.

Inside that delicate shell.

If only I could do more than pray you live well....

The first one appeared on a lukewarm Christmas Day.

It’s proud yellow carelessly threw my drab colours into disarray.

It had my fathers laughing eyes painted with a clumsy hand, lovingly unique.

When poked, it released an exuberant squeak.

After that that there was no escape.

They appear when I sleep and when I wake.

My shelves are lined with them sitting wing by wing.

I see yet another one and...

Is thou writing this

Simply for thy daily streak?

No, what profound cheek!...

I was raindrops falling

That capture mischievous moonlight.

I was the song of wilting petals

And the waning night.

I am a lost nursery rhyme

That aging souls mourn.

I am flaking around the edges.

Looking so forlorn.

I will fall from the twisting tongues

of scheming poet sparking, blinding.

I will taste metallic like stardust.

Finally doing more than existing....

I sit among my kingdom of cardboard.

Listening to the song of a far away sea.

Once my ambitions soared.

Eyes blinded by life.

But I am a fragment of the shattered me.

Reality is the stab of a rusty knife.

The sky mourns my broken past.

The clouds wash at the earth's shore, a sorrowful grey.

I scour stinking bins, hope gone at last.

I wish for the wind to carry me away.

My calloused fingers dig gr...