'Life, to quote, is like a box of chocolates, '
the Muse said 'We never know what were getting.'
As usual she comes without knocking
but is welcome nonetheless.
...
Mirrors reflect, she reflects, is her reality and sometimes,
as she tucks a stray coloured curl behind her ears,
as she passes her image in the shop window, unreality.
...
We used to visit Great Great Grandams grave
once a year, a ritual of flowers and tidying.
Gran said the passed and ancestors were important
our past tells us where we come from,
...
Today the rains came like bitter dew,
today the winds came, ragged leaves flew.
today again hard words came forth,
today I hated you and you, me too.
...
Each heart beat is a death knell
each breath the kiss of death
each step a step towards the grave
each meal a last supper
...
Give me space you say.
I would give you all the space in the universe
if it would take the contempt from your eye.
feeling the longing for freedom in those pent up muscles
...
Words caught in my eyes, snag in branches of brain hanks
and cables of consciousness.
sometimes introspection ora personifications,
like the sea, wide as a hands span, such a small place to captureworlds watery or the starry firmaments
...
sycophantic voices haunt incongruous muted dreams
creeping star crossed under thresholds frame
frenetically formed from lack lustre indistinct miasmic turgidity, atramentous.
...
Sometimes the escalator's up then down,
A series of hollow victories to make you frown.
You're not the first, not the last,
It's either famine, feast or I'm aghast.
...
'Trailing tripling tripe' he said 'He couldn't care less,
for everyone has detractors though the alliterations good.'
well the facts are clear, write rubbish with a rhubarb pen,
...