In a story every word should be universal,
each concept identifiable as that personal,
ideal cheap sentiment and too easy rhyme
make for quick reading soon forgotten - nevermind.

Yet this art has been with man from the start
there is no truly unique experience of the heart
just different ways of expressing the journey in evolution
fallen from the tree the forest in us is still very much alive
our civilisation mere veneer as humane we strive.

Often we forget ourselves; to steal, kill and rape
pray for forgiveness and hide under Superman's cape,
primitive war rages through and around our dust
as angels watch over the universe in blessed trust
that some day to the heavens souls will seeking fly
the answer to the eternal question, "oh God - why?"

And the wages of sin are paid with great dividend,
gold weighs heavy on morals worn paper thin,
time treats all equally with even steady hand
as man changes everything and nothing in this land,
pure youthful dreams and desires blur after a while
but never disappear as we tread our golden mile.

Every journey has a beginning and an end
each scene on these steps should contain a friend,
alas heaven on earth is for story book tales
even the strongest love within us can fail
still that does not diminish the worth of the fact
as is said, "We will be remembered for our acts..."

So the days pass with ease like dust in the breeze
let ours settle with style and meaning on life's knee
knowing we all have the chance of a life but one
why not live it well every moment under the sun,
for mortals exist within their own acquaintance
with the realisation we can all make a difference...

Images on a screen -
a year past in disbelief
as the emotions I feel
my soul a wreath
as dry eyes water...
~
Blue skies were highlighted in silky light
calm night slowly wafts to a September day,
some souls running early, others a bit late
oh how could any know their untimely fate,
in a city of millions running the race
countless thousands to pick up the pace,
first positions everyone - cameras ready
no one will believe this can happen...

10000 gallons, 400 tons, 500 mph
no poetry in motion this dark angel,
evil intent flies instead of business as usual
no warrior missile would ever be as cruel
as a loaded passenger jet primed with fuel,
8.46 time stood still as world trade was changed...

Whining jets called out a death song
changing instantly to a fireball of confusion,
a sceptre pointing to the sky is vanquished
witnessed by many in stunned disbelief;
by civilian, camera, even the fire chief,
hearts leap from chests in headlong flight
racing into chaos to save nothing but life...

Impossible odds faced intrepid willpower
no matter the situation it could be won,
so through blinding smoke and choking dust
plans were laid - the battle had just begun,
confusion fell upon the shoulders like concrete
this act beyond imagination - why
this just a nightmare to be woken from.

As a second missile hit its marked tower
the rescue turned in focus to pure exodus,
the buildings were crying symbolic paper tears
financial forecasts of the day's personal doom,
a volley of mankind in final surrender
a choice defining what it is to be a hero
in a swan dive from hell's fire to freedom
hundreds of feet below to find ground Zero.

Fire trucks wail and shriek as if knowing a truth
the magnitude of the task their crew will know,
ambulances dressed in white look pale
as the grey dust settled upon all like a vale,
each soul saved from the maelstrom a victory
stolen moments of New York's history,
glimpses of what had been and now was
to be retold and remembered forever after.

A paul of smoke stained the Manhattan sky
a storm cloud to make any soldier cry,
ashen faces looked to each other in hope
dust as thick as an eclipse at midnight
closed doors opened to welcome all humanity,
lost companions resolve break upon reunion
flags at half mast waved sadly goodbye
to a world of innocence forever - oh why?

Thousands are lost - millions are found
the search will go on in each one of us
till is grasped how to accept the truth -
snapshot images of faces and selfless deed
scenes of war zone so out of place
a world war showing that mankind is in need
of finding the way to live with himself,
time turned inside out in fond memory
all in a moment - now turned to dust...

Towers of enterprise finally collapsed
divided they stood - united people stand tall
families apart and together shed a tear
holding each other with bleeding eyes - stronger
a cold city of strangers become extended family
as memorials and statues replace the missing
in a land forever - of the brave and free...
~
The 11th program ends
I turn off the vision
but images remain,
of how it really is
in life and mortality,
as I would wish to be
in my final hour...

I look across to her fond gaze
to question the depths therein,
those sparkled glimpses of fire
fanned in impish known, jest shared -
life bitter sweet as wine to desire,
long sips I would take wanting
in the winterlessness of this Spring.

Waves I hear them crash in me
awakening my awareness of being here,
I look passed bright companion to a family tree
so many generations to find me alive,
knowing pride in being the best I could be
sharing the world within just being me -
in the soft fading red sunshine.

Stars they turn on - one by one
doting the universe's exclamation point
that every soul's existence matters,
a gentle breeze caressing pale night
embracing all whom feel aligned in season,
we are still side by side eyes reflected
soul mate hands united in lost thought.

The night flows like endless time
silence only broken by whispered breath
closeness now as if we were one,
mother kind awakening our true nature
hair moving to the air's rhythm
and the stars shine in your visage -
to be honest Love I am mesmerized
lost in your Spring eyes... :)

I stood and watched the comet fly
a snapshot memory in the back yard,
air standing still like the clothesline,
I missed the significance of this spring night
that life was asleep but I wasn't, right...

All my reasons for being - there
I felt the moment alone - young tears
growing from a world of perpetual winter
I hung out to dry on my hopes
that was my spring to this Spring...

I guess I wasn't paying attention
those years meantioned - youth say,
only smelt the scent of the air
the perfume of Spring so much more,
a dyslexic moment of one more sense
wall papering over winter scenes within.

Life knows everything - while time slips
close as a warm beast held to a heart,
young are old - old are young
diametric and palindrome views
fill in the time like six o'clock news
human; berate, abuse, love, wage war
and what is really changed - only us...

In walking time we are all sublime
lost in our selves living to rhyme,
all work and play - grasping colours
existing in white day and black night - seasoning,
in a spring morning so hard to tell where we start
and where the horizon of the world ends.

I haven't changed you as much as me -
no reason for the seasons to phone call,
the visor down as imagination takes flight
phoenix are we just half alive in division
asleep in life and death watching a heart line,
meaning to make more of our Godly vision
in how we really see this place divine.

Spring - a world of colour and soul reborn
from a mixed view of life and love torn,
an eye's glimpse of words in trust
warming our emotions from blue to blue,
air standing still as the clothes line
I'm paying attention now - and feel fine!

The sun rises in us
as we awake mistily,
stunned yet alive
we make ourselves
into habitual image,
wondering idly within
what will today bring?

Too many words awoken
said to invade the day,
trying to reach beyond them
is originality to be cliché?
To accept one can belong
striving to be just alive,
too many words spoken
really meant too few.

So day retreats like night
sun-glasses set to stun,
sight sees snapshots
pure rewind to this play,
as the dream's hands unwind
tricking the mind to say -
of course this was just today!

We are biological and illogical
born of symbolic maidenhead torn
grown from a cell split time flown
waiting for the curtain fall dating
our birth as the day to be more
than just as a nameless soul can
be after partaking of life's mystery.

Crying to a wilderness of love
we; hear and feel everything
to understand nothing but us,
shapes float familiar like dust
as the world around become old
words as mum and dad are told
awareness draws close - life will test.

Beyond all control a nature forms
the; wind, sun, rain - sound of the ocean
influence in such mindful subtle ways,
to notice but the length of the days
how they drag as we would be older
have our path straight to the point
the target a circle for Cupid's arrow.

Given too soon our wildest wishes
walking the tightrope could be easier
a pendulum a more predictable existence
as the sun and moon wheel and stare
over us like mother nature our guardian
as our own wither and die - oh why
the story is exposed hold fast to the dream.

The cycle will complete for no reason
as days turn to years like fallen leaves
son a proud dad, daughter a loved mum
forgotten misty moments of learning
emotions of immortality to leave behind
some small part of what is most dear
knowing you shall taste dust once more.

They say not to use cliché
cliché advice in every way,
metaphoric game the only aim
to write with honesty - tame,
double meanings in cults abound
warring points of view never found,
simple rhyme is no less reason to be
likened by student or teacher to see
no class in a room of people lost
souls writing as if to pay a cost,
crawling their way beyond concrete life
in bitter marriage husband and wife,
academic is not how we write "human"
to fall asleep in a cradle of words - amen!

Some say God for sake
damned and awakened,
for truth to be said
I'm out of my head,
trying to figure the answer
of life's tap dancer,
still I fall each night
to my bed all right,
in the knowledge found
my heart will sleep sound...

Dying to be yourself in lying
Log retrieved by your dog
Torrent of rain pain well spent
Prayers said for our tears
Bathed in light we are saved
Decay not die is how we pray
Blush for the world's blind rush
Movement found that was meant
Pursuit beyond the forbidden fruit
Slumber ourselves into wonder.

We feel,
to exist,
mixed ideas
found in;
birth
growth
relation
passion
love
obsession
health
weather
death...
we don't understand
what we have - till it hurts.

&

Do...

Hold yourself dear
respect a world alive
gather up your fear
and blink out false insight
to hold witness - the truth,
accepting it was in-deed you
in forgotten years of youth
grown to where you are you
so many heart-beats in life
stars in a lover's eyes
embracing each other
at our smile nature
we are - what we do...

Tears fall and stain my eyes
as the lightning flashes,
thunder claps as an audience
around the sky like booming laughter,
so the lightning reflects in my eyes
as I watch the rain start to fall.

Rain, it builds slowly - random drops
I feel them touch my being
to wonder who the world is crying for,
I hold out a hand - palm upwards
a large drop lands squarely in the middle
sitting there, like a river of sadness.

Another lightning strike
more reflections to contemplate,
on my hand and in my eyes,
a drop joined by so many others
I should run for cover
what is the point?

I'm in the middle of a field
I'm in the straights of it all....

Do we see images daily as words
like misspelled moments in life,
as if to play the game is a part
of not knowing the value of it...

Where do they go - those days
time eating seconds like years,
our dreams coming from with in
how we really see ourselves?

Why ask for a false "yes" to a question
is that just a driving force of destruction?
to forget our path in a forest of trees
self doubt - the only answer an axe.

Do the lines we speak make us weaker
or stronger in resolve proving our worth,
those words spoken - thoughts unmasked
as we seek a glimpse of us in those around.

Alas we vanquish our words every day
hidden in what we do and do not say,
to pray upon each others skeletal ideals
alive in ourselves - thoughts safely forgotten...

Epitaph...

The nightmare has awoken me
I lie and await the red dawn,
the sun receding to a dusky moon
that I hope will shine on me.

OR - is this better?

Images seen daily as our words
find misspelled moments in life,
life is but to play the game a part
of not knowing the value of it...

Where does it go - a heart beat
time eating seconds like years,
dreams coming from with in
how we really see ourselves?

Why ask "who am I?" to answer "no one!"
looking beyond friends and family -
to no path in a forest of trees,
an axe cut beyond wooden words.

The lines we speak strong and weak
as we pen them to prove our worth,
struggling to reveal worthy thoughts
seeking ourselves in the question, why?

Alas we vanquish our words every day
hidden in what we did and do not say,
to pray upon our believe - of who we are
knowing just one thing - to be wanted...

An Epitaph...

The nightmare awoken in me
to lie in wait of the dawn,
a sun receded to a dusky moon
that I hope will shine on me.

Who flies their kite at night?

Metaphor
seen as just words
bound by clever writing
as we try and be less personal
yeah that's the way to sell yourself
but honestly - why be other than you
and wanting so much more - so alive
to; see, act, and do - spontaneous
existing in how we can do it
looking for more
seeing it all
I am
U.

Eye am you!

Clever is how we see things?
our value of worth - feeling feelings felt
in a world of bound by emotional moments
existing to wonder - is that what my heart meant?

Of course time takes and gives easily
humankind striving to follow the call - dizzily,
as if in itself, to prove that we are "time"
put ourselves on life's shelf - in rhyme...

"Hey, here comes another soul..."
"Okay, you know they are all pure!"
"Right, no sins here, just smile and look holly."
"And what if they ask what really happens up here?"
"Just tell them, we are going to sort out Humankind."
"Sure, that will stall them for about a million years..."
"I wish I could see their faces when they find out!"

Two Angels leave, to find the boss is watching...

   So is the best part of being alive - just that
wanting to find some one to connect with
who shares your values and what you seem,
who connects to you in feelings and words
to forget those manipulative sentences
as the internal clock ticks off everyone
to find none are truly alone - my angels ...

Empathic - we are our words
and to be right or write as we speak,
an ocean is roaring to draw me on
emotions in me seeing - just a letter.

Fly Bee Free - words...

A lesson to be, to learn the alphabet
and realise what we say is obscure
to feel the difference between character and plot
reflect within one's life - I'm still alive
are yellow pages good reading...

Hey world, write your heart out
words are what we are - hear them
if you get them right
who knows what you'll say
they may double your might!

All-right?
Be-cool...

We see what we will
to will ourselves to see
what is already there hopefill
our sight to be finally free
colour our world in enlightened hues
changing the grey to lighter blues
empowering wishful spirits to find
what we really had in mind,
and if all else fails we can
always pull down the blind...

To be meat in the grinder
alive and lost in the way
you laugh and smile
at the dawning light
as I see you in you -
so forget what "they" want
dare to dream to see, and be...

I don't know why
what there is to say,
moments when we were
stolen from felt times,
did we love and want
only to find - we want more...

Unwind the clocks
roll back the sky,
smile sadly at the world
forget in yourself the question - why?

Let sadness slide silently through anger
as a clock's hands are tied still,
dead and worthless moments fade to grey
as you accept the cross on the hill.

Words and images focused forever in a day
to be part of the grey living in you,
time softens such thoughts and plays
that make you do the things you say!

Seasons stopped within for a reason
as words of others play over like waves,
life is a pendulum swing of emotion - strong
that makes you wonder - have I done wrong?

Life runs away and around like before
but there is no normal existence - to be found
the meaning of poetry seems nothing - formal
to recognise a folly - we are all time bound.

So wind up the clocks
put back the child blue sky
frown with fondness on the world
to remember love never does die!

"Man truly is a giddy thing!"

Don't you love him!