Blot

Blot.
Please mind.
Left blot, right blot.
Out of my life.
Out with you.
Open your purse.
Let all the detrius out.
Is that what it is?
Its a muddled mess.
Blot your existence from my mind.
It should never have appeared there at all.
Never, not ever.
Will it go away?
Blotted. Blot.
Believe it.

Your Portion

Flames, foreunners of fame.
Doors, dreading dares.
Ramps, raking revisions.
Why are we here?
Why are you there?
Give what you've got.
Govern your greed.
Gregarious, grabbing gate of your soul.
Whay are you you?
Why did I know you?
Frame your life into a few mulched words
Of confiscated thoughts and ideas
That lead you to paths of your Life's
Portion and contentment.

Pests, Pests

Pesting,
In the eye of the beholder,
Or the brain, or the heart.
Sticks worse than glue.
Stick glue - What to do?
Look on high?
For intervention?
Pray?
Wish a wrenching, wasting well of watchful will?
Be mean and pest the pest away.
Spray it with noxious smells.
Stink it out of your life.
Take thi phone off the hook.
Play Stockhausen at all hours.
No good? No? No. No.
The pest seems to still be a pest?
Pesting away.

The Drum

Pump and beat,
Talk total sweet.
Through each side
Of your mouth.
Which way, and south.
With rhythms and metre,
Speak truth through lies,
Take pieces of slight,
And pictures of a whole.
Until the half
Is less than nothing.
And you can't
Even know that.
Bump and beat your head
And your brain
Will fall out.
No doubt.

Cry High

Grey clouds high.
Its the first summer day.
Cool winds sigh,
With nothing to say.
Hearts glowing melody.
Faraday had his malady,
And our world changed.
Massive motions
With malcontent merriment.
If but for that day,
When the grey clouds
Smeared the sky high.
Would we be where we would been?
So, cry!

Dragons

Bigger, Better.
Well, bigger.
More than 10 years ago.
Milling crowds.
Asian and others.
Dozens of boats,
With a dozen or more in each.
As a maritime type band plays.
Thousands of people.
Its a fair.
We leave not!
Two, three, four.
The pest pestered me today.
I looked for the two people I knew.
And found none.

My Monk

I think I just found
My long lost monk.
Soft and strong,
Bold as a song.
To lose it was wrong.
To be gone,
So long.

My Daughter - Denise

She's lovely.
She's precious.
She's my heart's delight.
She's the happiest day of life,
As it was, as it is.
My love goes on and on.
She lives within my being.
Does she know it?
She's wonderful.
She's special in every sense.
From top to toe.
From her silly rants,
To her laughs and shouts.
From her deep daring to crying jags.
From successes to failures.
She's perfect,
To me.
She's my daughter, Denise.

My Daughter - Hope

Hold the girl enthralled.
In the light
Of West Coast days.
High life, all bright.
School and tests.
Challenges are headaches,
Ratings and marks.
The years go by.
What will be, may have already been.
What might be, may never happen.
What was, may have been best.
The future is but time
That soon will pass,
Unknowing,
Full of promise.

My Daughter - Open Doors

She claims innocence.
And so she should.
She rants selective furrow,
But knows otherwise.
She is feeling and loving,
Calculating and mildly questioning.
Destructive at times,
Behaving so.
Challenging her circumstances
In ways too acceptable.
It is her reality.
Is it her life ?
Is it fine?
Is it hopeful?
She asks and asks.
Will life be the joy its meant to be?
If its meant, to be.
Maybe not.
Yes or no.
No one knows.
It will be what she will make of it.
The doors all open.

My Daughter

Eyes that shine.
Full and fine.
Knowing more and more
Than most before.
She is refined and young.
Indeed.
Mature and pretty.
Growing ever so
Within her mind and mindfulness.
She plays
And is unsure.
Her confidence is defined
By questions not asked.
Her identity comes
From days ago,
Before her time.
And in her years,
She blossoms.
Yet she wonders.
She grows, she grows.

What Do Women?

Hair that grows
Six feet  in length.
Silky, soft and sexy.
Cover.
Lips that gloss and beckon
To one and all.
And speaks wise words,
So glowing soft.
Eyes that fix a stare
Of concern and want.
Boring holes of wrath
When crossed.
Untold,
Dextrous and strong.
Grabbing life,
Taking charge of all.
About her.

Pantheon

Beautiful beaches
Set in the mind.
At the end of
The world.
The continents' hind.
What lives here
Is beyond hope or wish,
Though thousands do.
They survive
In happy harmony.
In contented containment.
Loving and reaching.
Growing and dying.
To old age.
Gone.

Life of Worth

Fisherman of Worth.
Sing a bountiful
Song that
Shouts the Ages.
Lady of Worth.
Cries for renewal
Of life begun or
Hardly not.
Live a life.
Cloaked together.
In belief
In practice
In all.
The day is done.
All that is,
Tthat was,
That will be so.
Is all she holds.

Starting

Starting from the start
Or from later
Or from over
Or from something fresh.
Or from never.
Where am I?
There or here?
Somewhere?
Anywhere?
In between?
I go forward into life.
Handed to me without any questions.
Stepping ahead.
Or escaping behind.
But knowng nothing.
Whether all is good
Or is all is rotten?.

Pain

In Glory's time,
There is no way
To deliver
The life that is
Fine from behind.
Because of a
Sad, sad pain
That has built
Acres of layers
Over and over,
Sprayed on hardness.
Forty years on.
Alone with so many others.
Leave me only with
Pain, pain, pain.

Blythe

Blimey Blythe.
Blarney Bern.
Bernie's Barnyard.
Blowing brine.
Baring barnacles.
Bumming brooms.
Banging bongos.
So it goes.
As the days go by.
The days stop somewhere.
Here or in that time.
Because before the bars,
The brave beggars bereft,
Bemused, befreiended.
I bought her.
She bough it.
Blythe, yes, Blythe

On The Shore

The shore only exists in the
Presence of a body of water.
In the absence 0f such same,
Shore is but land.
Not shore.
So does it exist at all?
Shore is but land.
Shore is but a name.
Or is it just another meaningless word
Of something describing something
Not really real?
So it would seem.
It would seem.
So it would be.
To stand on the shore
Seems to be standing nowehere.
It shore does.

One Foot In the Sea

I washed myself
In the Sargasso Sea.
In a way
Beyond imagination
From the top to there.
And all in between.
But by not including
That one foot in that sea.
How I managed that,
Was through total despair.
As I was drying the rest of myself
In the dry salt sea air.
That other foot had dried
And I just could not dare
To wet the other foot again
While it was still bare.

Angry, Sad - I Know Not What

I sit and sat,
I wait and look.
I want a turn
To show
What I can do.
I can, I can.
With all my heart?.
Who can help
Me?
What can I do?
Can I?
Can I do anything?
I can.
Can I?
I'm ready.
I am.
But if I haven't the chance.
Then what?
So ready.
I am.

Out

Out of it.
Out of that!
Out Of What?
What!
Can't start.
Can't finish.
Can't move.
Ahead or behind.
Stuck in time.
Like in a mine.
Like a deadly sigh.
Going forward
And ending up behind.
Trying, trying.
Knowing, not seeing.
Moving up and out.
Out and in.

My Son

My son is now
Big and strong.
Not as mighty
As he may be.
But a tower over
The little Brent
Who lay by my side
As I read stories
And listened to music
And made up talks
And saw his eyes shine,
As I hugged and kissed
His fears away.
He forgets its nature.
Maybe so.
My desire is that he
Grows and grows
In every way.
My son.

The Mall

Kingsgate Mall
8 years later.
I've come back
To where I left my last life, career and job.
Bank and time and strife.
The work was temp.
At the Royal.
On and off.
For a year.
Kingsgate is where it began.
My life of kids, for kids.
Of not caring for things.
But caring for love.
Love of loving.
Its when all I thought,
All I knew
Changed.
Just changed.
Forever and today.

Roll

Roll in the hay
If you may.
Please pay.
Roll those coins
If you remember
How to move them
In your harem.
Eat your roll
With spread or just dry.
Drop you ball
And roll it from on high.
That is your life.
It rolls up or down.
We experience most days
Which bring us no frowns.
Tolling and roll.
Rolling is life.
Its movement.
Stop rolling
And you're dead.

Tenderly

Tender is my mind,
That evolves so gently inwards out
And infrequently.
Absorbing colour of sounds
That tun my soul
To thought,
Of thought.
The Good that is not.
The Bad that overtakes.
These are emotions
Hardly worth the cost of barley.
Soft light - light,
So high - airy - top - low.
Where?
There - here - go!
Step so gently as you go, go.
As I move, tenderly.
To you,
Go - go - go!

ReEnter

I withdrew from regular life,
For a time that extended on.
I intended a short retreat.
But it became Noah's Ark.
I tried to come back,
Several times
And again, again.
The more I tried,
the longer I was gone.
 I stopped trying.
 I stopped.
Kept going,
But stopped.
Now I'm finished..

Somehow, finished with the old, with the new.
Where I am is where I was.
I wish I knew who I am.
Who am I ?
Time to re-enter.
Time to  start.
To become a new self,
Built on old parts.

Remember

There was time
That time was there
In front, in back
And nowhere.
When days were
Slight
And full of might.
When nights were magic,
And a lot less tragic.
When back then,
There were soft glowing smiles,
Pictures of wonder.
Hope, storms & thunder.
When those great days were
Before us,
Suffer the memory.
Remember the future.
Remember the past.

Recoil

Pull the arrow back.
Wait 'till it cracks.
A heart to be
Broken.
Wrenched.
Taken.
Ripped until it parts.
Roaring as it barks.
Screaming love
Holy may ...
Pulling taut,
Pulling back.
Squeeze the trigger,
Until it's past.
No return,
No retort.
A shot!
No regain.

Recalling

Billi-bun!
Calling Mom!
She was there.
Lovely hair.
Smells so sweet.
Like moss or maybe peat.
Long, long ago,
She became a foe.
How she loved.
How she cared.
How she cleaned
My soul out bare.
How she was
My soft protection.
And no less
Than harsh rejection.
Recall, recall.

Appalling

A hot January,
So fat and so cold.
The flowers confused
Their fate is but woe.
The birds fly in circles,
Forgetting where to go.
The worms sleep soundly,
Deep down in their gore.
The snows melting early,
The floods seem so mean.
Wiping out object,
Life.
What is,
What has been.
Why? Why?
Ask nature.
Ask him. Ask her. Ask us.
Where have we been?

In Character?

The days stretch out.
For one so young.
One foot in the sea,
Where never she's been.
One foot on the shore,
Where soon she will go.
To follow her pattern,
Her wishes, desires.
As though ....
Will she have choices?
How will she know?
Will it take small steps,
Or steps not al all?
Will she flounder?
Lapping her soul?
In the wrong direction,
To the deep unknown?

Fear of Fear

A bird on a feather
Floating.
Soft and serene.
Unruffled, untethered....
Inclined to preen.
Drifting downwards,
Groundwards,
Without thought
Of what's been.
The feather is her's.
So sad a turn.
Her wing is asunder.
Flight is lost.
So sure - once,
The feather that took her
For rides in her life,
Now prolongs her fate.
So quick,
To the ground.

The Future

Tomorrow is so far away.
But not as far
As the next day.
To say such nonsense
Is a way
To reazlize that
In time we pay.
The days are long
and short
Together!
Does time exist?
Or is it a myth?
That there's time at all.
Possibly our beings
Are alive no more than one
Long stretch - one chunk -
One life day.
No more. No less.
That's all.

Will I Get Over

You.
Will I get over?
You.
Will I trust?
Should I?
Must!
Will my heart
Stay in rust?
Will there ever
Be a time?
When what was Me,
Will be mine?
Will there be light?
Less wrong than right.
Will I stop, stop?
To get over.
Who?

You Change

I was once one way .
Now I'm not so sure.
I might another way.
In a way I might endure.
If I am what I was,
Or what I once could be,
Then what I am now,
Is other than I was.
If I was what
I'm not,
And I am not
What I was.
Then changed
Am I.
Changed I remain.

Time - Changes

There was a time,
When time was short.
When everything took
So long and more.
Before it was over,
The hours had fled.
Love was forever.
Forever and more!
The future was beating
Our wishes and hopes.
Had no beginning nor end.
Happiness was restored.
Life spread before us.
It brightened
Our sorrows.
There was a time
When time was unsure.
But this has changed.
And now all that's left,
Is time.

Grief

The end has come,
All too soon.
Withou much warning.
The time has arrived.
What was here,
Is now there.
What is loved,
Is now gone.
To remain just in memory,
Unfair and wrong.
Why has it happened?
So quick and so sharp.
Changing our lives,
A spear to my heart.
Can there be an answer"
Does it matter?
It won't be brief.
It's grief!

Loss

I woke up this morning
Not knowing my name.
I looked all around
And said, what a shame!
If I knew who I was,
Or even who I wasn't,
I'd know where I was,
I'd know how I came.
This loss of me
Has happened before.
Though the particulars
I know not anymore.
If only I'd wake up
On the right side of
Me,
I'd find myself,
Sure enough.
Please!

A Calling

A merry maid
Went out today.
A maid she hardly was.
She had a joy within her heart
And fear to part - away.
With secrets of the past,
Her life of a tired soul,
Oh dear -
Nothing - a calling - nothing was
Left to her.
Sullen and distraught,
With bare hope of
Empty loving.
Like birds in search
Of worrms
With her secret now
Beholden to cause
And to effect.
She knew she would make a contact,
A calling,
In her head.

Flower of The Field

Where are all the flowers?
In our hour of need.
Are they where ?
Staking a place
In the summer heat?
Flopping and reaching
Towards the sky.
Pink and yellow roses,
Grasping at the light.
Waiting for perdition,
Reaching out to fight.
Calm and sullen repose,
Masked by banal sight.
Struggling for revival,.
Which will mean their end.
Where are their plant souls?
There is no answer,
Where or there,
Flowers
They live!
And still they die.
Even in our time of need.

Evil

Evil actions, evil thoughts.
There's hardly
A boy or girl
Without...
Goodness, selfless
Helpful - well...
Is that what we're all about?
A question to behold.
Is nature evil?
Or its consequences.
So?
Are people evil?
Or their actions?
So!
Every boy and girl,
Evil's in their soul!

Soft Hands

I know the feeling
Of drifting leaves
That slide off
Branches in The Fall.
I know the sight
Of blighted buds
That will never
Come to call.
I know there
Is a softness
Here.
A lightness which
Catches the heart.
When the leaves
Start falling all around.
I'm ready to move on.

Music

How sweet the language
Of sound can be.
Without words,
So much to say.
Until they ask to pay.
No way!
Music is free.
Its in the body,
In the mind,
In the soul.
Its invented
And intended
To make feelings known.
For one,
For others.
Its sweet, its music
And more.

Dirt in The Machine

Dirt, dirt
Everywhere.
Gunk and skunk
In the air.
Save our souls!
The rotten mess
Couldn't be worse.
They're dead!
Get to bed.
Hide your hides.
Cover your eyes.
They lie uncovered,
Unclaimed and unloved.
Families of kindred ones.
In this land of heat and sun
Where dirt lies everywhere.

Patooee

Babie rolling
in the sand.
Having fun.
Havin a grand
Old time ...
Rolling back & forth.
Side to side,
Frolicking, smiling.
Nowhere to hide.
No cares.
You would think.
But that wouldn't be so.
Why?
Well, all that sand.
Know where it goes?
Up your nose!
Patooee!

Jerks

Yo! Hey!
A Jerk
Lurks.
Where not
Thought.
Where least
Eased
Into your life.
Jerks that lurk
Are like
Muses that work.
They raise
Your pain
and by doing so...
Awake, Away,
Before its so late!

Horst On The Porch

Poor old Horst
There was no borscht.
He cried and cried
I made him a pie.
He asked my why.
Don't try my patience,
Or you'll be sorry.
Don't make me mad
Or I'll eat you alive.
Poor old Horst
Was beside himself.
Such was life
Inside his hell.
No hope, no vision,
no help, or such.
Poof old Horst
has no borscht.

La Guerre (War)

Pourquoi La Guerre?
Merde!
So What!
So millions and thousands
Of Friends
And Buddies
Could die ~
Would die!
For what?
For something !
What for?
For us!
For us?
Was there a choice?
Not once is started.
But it was never necessary.
Not before it started!
Merde!

Where?

Where should I wear

This sightly item?

What should I wear

Today?

Will it take me to places?

That never were where

I would be if I would be.

Be that I would be

A person traveling

In time, in place,

In space, in mind -

But only if I wear

The right item today -

Otherwise I won't go anywhere.

Dare

Dare to be yourself.
And through a maze
You will go.
Through hedgerows
You will stumble.
Through rocks, be most humble.
Learn to grumble.
Dare to seek a path
Not common or laid out.
Prepare for adverse fire.
Be ready for brim & gyre.
Dare to reach beyond yourself
Even if you are not the best
Yet to be better & true
To your quest.
Then dare to have no rest.

Care

If you dare
Look out, look out.
For those you love.
Its oh so rare.
Its much too much
Too much to bear.
Your soul your love
To show you care.
To put yourself
Before & after
Throughout & over
Under & there
To open yourself.
Lay your life bare.
Is only rare
If you could dare
If you can - care.

Emotions

Feelings are feelings
Except when they aren't.
Except when they are
Something other.
Other than that which they aren't.
Is Hate a feeling?
Or a state of mind?
Is despise or disgust
similar - of a kind?
Here is what I say:
They aren't emotions.
They aren't feelings.
They are classical conditionings.
Made of Anger - which is a precursor
of feeling - Anger is always short-term.
Fight or Flight - that's right!
If it stays - that's wrong.
Only Love stays - Hate goes - Always!

Thinking

If I was myself no longer,
Who would I be?
If I was someone else,
What would I do?
I'd still be me
In an alternate from
Unless I was changed
Before I was born.
But, then I wouldn't be me.
I'd be someone else
Totally so.
And why would I care or even know
Who I was or
What I would be?
Which is how I
think now.
I think.

Hard

Hard is easy.
Easy is hard.
There is every reason to stay apart.
There is love and anger,
Fear and spite,
Envy and hatred
Nothing is right.
There is vileness (vile)
and wishing.
Madness
and quickening,
Gathering Storms, and relenting warm
Feelings that soften
Waves of patterns.
Its not so hard.
Easy is hard.

Rhyme is Easy

Sometimes,
When the sun shines
The world is mine.
And I can run
Fast as a drum
Can beat its
Sound, its cadence
Where we meet.
Between the notes
Among the nodes
In loads
In roads
of jumping toads...
When the sun shines,
None of this is mine.
So why rhyme?

Blessed

There was a time
When it was all mine
Not to have
But to have.
To understand; to know.
To know.
What there was
And what was there.
The days go by,
Gone, they die;I know less and less
and less.
And less.

Love for Free

I love horses
Yes I do.
Mornings at the stable
I watch them chew.
While I tack, saddle and ride
All day long.
I love horses. Yes I do.
Once I traveled west
In search of stallions free.
Didn't find a one.they were all gone.
Horses once roamed wild
Throughout the open range
Where did they go? No one can say.
Yes, I love horses.
What use are they to us?
Ride a few - eat a few
That's all that's left.
For me they will be much more.
Noble and esteemed.
I love horses. That's what I'm about.

Bernie