who I wonder is this sad eyed creature staring back with enigmatic eyes?
someone once said that it was the creator looking out at his creation trying to workout what was this manifestation.
well if the creator can't work us out who the hell can
...
The velvet hand of night rises its fag end grey and cold
shimmering as dawns rosy petalled fingers fill the hills
a blush of rose red and orange dispelling the miasma dissolving it
in the slow heat of its solar fingers across the frosted fields.
...
shall I tell you why its good to die, she said.
not wanting her dis closure for it hurt like bullets that pass through
hitting nothing vital except theheart which shattered.
...
The wreath sits on the garden wall it has since the funeral
she placed it there with loving hand but cannot bear to part with it
she likes the coarseness of the memory the sack cloth rub
reminding her of her widowhood she mourns the passing of the past
...
no I take the position,
dare I say a proposition.
that divided is sometimes best
if the truth be the quest
...
trebled mindless drifting across lurid landscapes
hey she thinks as the moon struggles to warm.
roofs are white with frost,
street lights an orange umber conversation,
...
a bouncing cacophony hammers
head lines roll, the argument in my head rages
practical side says get out of bed
but the others not for moving
...