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.