New Poems

There is no Time
It moves without predjudice
Yet memories transcend
And emotions bridge like a worm hole
But if Time is not a scale, then it is not Time at all
Why measure the infinitely finite?
There is daytime and night
Happiness and sadness
Waking roars and slumbered breaths
Time loves not you or I
Then measure I will the Lived Love
And stay time through the beloved thoughts a plenty
And measure I will you who loves me
That feeling I will make my black hole
For there it is endless and unknown

I caught your pearly teardrops
In my cusped hands.
They trickled through my fingers
And landed on a rocky pond.
A robin came and drank them
And sang a song of joy,
As it flew above your face
Dancing as if in a warm embrace.
I caught you smiling at the robin
And I too danced,
Now that the pearly teardrops
Reflected your smile,
Sparkling in my hand.        

 
Mountainous grey clouds appear
As raindrops trickle on our faces,
Soon to be a waterfall.
We rush under a branch
As thunder claps
And forked lightning dances
In the river valley.
The sky changes to a grey blue hue,
Ushering in a silenced hush.
Then the birds sing, tweet,
Whistle and chirp as squirrels chatter
In a musical ensemble.
We smile at each other
As Muttart sparkles
Like the diamond on your hand.
Then we start to dance
To the music
Of nature’s band,
Turning, bowing, hand in hand.

A-sharp bends backwards the strings of my broken lyre
as I hurtle towards Earth
in swan-dive defiance of God
crashing through an ocean of prayer
as all Heaven watches, aghast

I breathe in the toxic fumes of the city
leaping from rooftop to rooftop
as naked creatures, bold and ugly
wander the streets stealing souls
like some demented carnival

I spurn the prayer palaces of the prud'homme
like the ear-piercings of an off-key choir

Upon the green hills of Cymru
I stand arrested by the view
of cryptic sea and ancient shore 
that stood ten thousand years before
they met my callow eye
and will remain for many more
long after I die

I'm solemn above the briny stew
with thoughts of kin I never knew
fishing the sea, mining the coal
or mining the depths of a poet's soul
A nation's buried history
revived once more because it knows
the blood that flows through me

Listen to the silence let it speak to you. The silence, that holds all secrets, that knows everything and has a lot of things to say.
Listen to the silence and hear people cry, their tears falling on the soil becoming it's source of rain.
Listen to the silence and feel their pain, know their fears and feelings of disdain.
Listen to the silence and hear all they have to tell, know all their thoughts and what they wish for when they throw a coin into the well.

The reality of all realities is doom.
To be happy is to eventually fail
"to fail" comes soon.
The real definition of happiness is being gullible.
 This world is not made for love
behind most doors is a secret
but never your own.
Don't attempt to believe in something that's too good to be true
don't miss something that at first didn't miss you.
Take a look in the mirror and ask yourself "what next"
 if there's no answer
 that's your answer
Life is meaningless

 
 
Holidaying in Chimney Woods
These woods are like a mother
                                      putting all embers out.
Sweet wind winnows me out of
                                               all secret worries.
As I dip myself into the woody stream,
                                tension termites disappear.
Throats of birds broadcast unceasing songs
                                           like our FM station.
When a tribesman squeezes a honey-comb, I