The Party

I was tired; therefore I sought rest,

slumbered on the moon, but there found loneliness,

sought out some friends, among them found the loneliest,

was a girl and her friend in the polk-a-dotted dress,

and we danced and we laughed and merry made we three,

then we stood on the curb casting stones into the street,

as I looked upon her face I could see the cost of free,

there were bags and a darkness that my pupils couldn’t meet,

as we sat by the road, she’d forgotten about me,

and she talked about a time when she met a man so kind,

her words were like a farce,

as a photo for the blind,

and she never even knew she was speaking from her arse,

so I called her a cab, cause I was that kind of guy,

and I sat there alone as the feel in me grew wan,

no I didn’t choke them back when the tears began to cry,

it  was just another night with it’s revelry all gone.



I see your shadows drifting,

listlessly, forming blanks within statements you’ve made,

they find me calling to beckon you, waiting,

and all is worn within the spectre of your shade,

There’s me like sunshine in the corners of your eyes,

a thousand senses overwhelming the weight of your pride,

but there they are again, shades of grey and naysayers like flies,

though I beg and plead, you fail to egress, and hide,

Some day you’ll see and feel the heat of my love,

one way to break solemn and bleed freedom from a smile,

candy wrappers, sugar coated, fall like confetti from above,

and I’ll remind you that I always was; will be with you in the while,

Be like peas in a pod, till your worries are all shod,

same as children, playing in the sandbox,

regressing to innocence, where color and age are not God,

tasting angels like sashimi and lox.


She spreads her eye,

and sheds a single tear,

to taste the life,

of death inside,

and night by night,

and every year,

to make it right,

the given lie,

though every word is lost,

there is a certain cost,

to cast away the fear,

which seemed to be so dear,

for every broken soul,

there is a mender too,

or every heart that’s whole,

a bladed blended roux,

if death led me to you,

and breath doth me exume,

then tell me that you’re true,

and I will make you room.


As you can see, it was raining when I stepped outside,

puddles gathered in potholes and stairsteps became slippery,

you looked at me, as if to say, I couldn’t; shouldn’t; ought not to hide,

I stood beside myself, one hand shielding my eyes, heart felt quivery,

arm subsided limply against my torso; bright white, cloud hampered light found me squinting,

peering toward the horizon, but finding only fog and stately sky scrapers,

a fifty seven chevy, on her windshield, waterdroplets glinting,

oil refracting rainbows on the asphault; yellowed and soggy newspapers,

damned if I had an umbrella; tried to shield you from the drizzle with my coat,

said I’d walk you home, barely knew your name in those days,

pictured us two in the middle of the road; oars in hand, standing in a boat,

ignoring signs and lights; red ones and one-ways,

you with your cape in hand, blue and velvety felt,

me and my fedora soaked to the scalp; wondering if that cap had a purpose,

your eyes glimpsing both of my thumbs tucked behind my belt,

irises asking why they clasped there; when I could have held you close,

wasn’t one for verbosity, and motions made in vain,

nervous to the core in your sight, grey was chasing night,

hard to breathe again for me, wheezing as I’d strain,

led you to your portico; not a moth in sight,

nothing weary, nothing feigned,

nothing ventured, nothing gained,

leaned abruptly stole a kiss,

never quite felt just like this,

held your hand,

could barely stand,

shock residing,

rosy hues,

no more hiding,

subtle cues.


Sighs in tones that draw tears from tears in the soul,

groanings and utterances, dronings and observances,

dolorous and obsequious qualities are rent in twain,

torn and shredded are they and not without pain,

she cries out, “let it stop and forget my face!”,

you who spend your efforts trying to erase,

lost things, refuse, beyond your level of comprehension,

words and ways that you oppose in your apprehension,

failing to realise that we are but an extension of,

brutal things, yes, and terse means too; but love,

while wrapped in burlap she grows yet dwindles in this cocoon,

fails to rise till after noon,

for sunlight flies to scorch and burn,

through truth and lies as some don’t learn,

like Cerberus, they bind you to Hades a beggar and a pawn,

and use your fears, your strength and spawn,

soon enough, with open eyes,

common roads and futile lies,

they subside for butterflies,

off they float in lightened skies,

hate is lost, though necessary,

finding faith during it’s query,

she will reign though voices carry,

jovial, exuberant; not weary wary.


I feel the flow of chain,

on ropy vein,

when muscles strain,

and everything I do; is it in vain?

I trust the light of day,

in ways that may,

lead me from astray,

is this my life; am I okay?

and she calls to me,

the splinter sea,

then guides me to my destiny,

I seldom have to look to see,

what sets apart,

the world of art,

what flies alike a dart,

and pierces through the wounded heart,

she flies by night in throes,

and carries those,

who never chose,

frees them from their woes,

what pain is this?

how could I miss?

a lily and a kiss,


what eyes you have,

and lips like salve,

a sacrificial calve,

could be another halve,

if err the day,

should run away,

I’m sure that you would say,

just stay,

and if she carried me,

you see,

deep into this jeopardy,

if she took my life for free,

anon was like a debt,

so silly as I fret,

my toes are getting wet,

in this salty jet,

so give me life endowed,

yes, I live aloud,

within my heart a crowd,

and am I not allowed?

to live insane,

to rend my brain,

a lame without a cane,

a wanderer like Cain,

and rest in peace,

a bested beast,

and at the least,

as far as here from greece,

your quandary,

is like a bee,

who’s sting will never be,

or death will swallow thee.

Mist Defy

Catches me while wandering- a bullet from the blue, 

smiles at me and calls my name reminding me of you,

saturates me with it’s voice,

a siren with no choice,

and calls aloud beyond the shroud,

a cricket strumming loud,

and lofty things like truth and reason,

speak to me of filth and treason,

it calms with hush during the dusk,

like scents of lavender and musk,

and guards the night from devil’s gaze,

and fogs ill minds with purple haze,

it leads the silence to the lamb,

it prays for peace and gives a damn,

when eery spooks without a light,

brings the cool unto the night,

hears the thoughts, through lull and whisper,

stirs the hearts, of jade and jasper,

whimsical in motion though,

never loses it’s control,

softest fingers, silken tendrils,

breathing suede into their nostrils,

knowledge from the hand escapes,

bleeds the mind of bumps and scrapes,

letting go to helios,

recede from day alike a ghost,

now to start this life anew,

mist will bathe you and renew.