Chaos, Chaos, Chaos and rage
Scream against the quiet of the night
Roar against the ill fitting feeling
That breaks the world in pieces
...
The winter sun may rise
Yet I do not feel it's warmth
Due to the wind blowing bitterly
Upon my face and hands
...
I can pen words of joy
Words of sorrow and love
Lines painting sweet passion
And of despair and nature
...
I see a picture in my heart
Of us both in old age
Sitting quietly on a beach
Hand in hand, almost as one
...
That time of year has returned
Where daylight is sparse
And the houses are lit
In a festive display
...
Hark, hark I hear it
Let me take your hand
And dance, dance, dance
As a foolish man may ever be
...
The town is quiet, empty
Street lights cast shadows
...
As a writer and a reader
Of a craft I claim as an art
I ask a question, the question
Many of my like have asked before
...
Perhaps you don't realise
Or I fail to make it clear
But There is one thing forever constant
And that is me wanting you
...
The miner-bird
Appears content in his little world
Watching beyond the bars and whistling
Wanting for nothing except
...