poetry

Best Plans

Entrenched Rain falls We are drenched Please take note Next time Bring your raincoat Inside me Rain falls Puddles building silently Can it be You know Something that you can see Clouds bursting Water flows Something is hurting In Reality Things don’t Always go to plan hands in the rain. Photo credit: http://www.afewofmyfavorites.com

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Reality Defining

Winding, twisting, turning Deeply rebellious instincts Having fun fondling eternity And loving in the falling rain Indigenous erogenous foolery Unwinding, deeply chicane Saratoga thoughts abound The definitive Musical opus With absolutely no sound A secretive spoken secret A seared ripple in time A wise golden pomegranate A Sonic primal scream An observer just watching Shhh, He will never tell Silence speaks silently The world still turns Periodically violently Waiting on the arrow Whose narrow flight begins Waiting on the sharpness When the axe will fall It’s catastrophic nature Finally revealed to all The world is unwinding Unrolling, unfolding Reality defining

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Politic

The building shakes you awake Caricatures of unimportant people Small minded ignorance In the cold light of day Torture and twist the minds of the people With the ancient mode of your elders Shatter the innocence of youth Punish the sick under your roof Material possessions not allowed And share and share alike Rich people made poor, poor made rich Xenophobia gone mad to the end of time Sickness of the communal mind Togetherness in folly Well – you keep your ideology We’ll put it in an ivory tower And laugh from afar You can keep your systems Freshly painted, in a jar Invent your weapons of destruction We’ll have the last laugh At the power of your deduction Gone wrong Politic image Politic from Weird Tales: Otherworld Poetry by

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Moon Whispers – Another Collection Coming Soon….

In the last few days I have pulled together a bunch of recent poems to be published as Moon Whispers – A New Collection. I am working on the MS, working my way through the BookSurge process and have asked a few other writers to review for back cover-type reviews (In this I have asked some of my Roundfire Books authors to help out and some have kindly agreed. The volume will contain over 30 new poems including Moon Whispers and will be available in paperback and Kindle format in a few weeks. The prior three poetry collections are as follows; Weird Tales: Otherworld Poetry (Createspace, 2006) – a collection of 31 poems some of which were written 40-years ago! Poems for the Little Room (Lulu, 2012 and Booksurge, 2014)-

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Mistaken Priorities

People I just cannot get Would rather save an ant Than one of their own Rather protect a plant Than help the homeless Worrying about the issues They know nothing about And not seeing the little things That would really count Happily labeling themselves Left, right, or by nation Or yet, worse still, By their religion Man made rules to kill For a man made God Hustling, bustling, striving To outdo one another, while Following their dubious heroes Emulating their style What a fucking joke Conspiracy and doom Echoes of their self-created hell Selling their sordid stories Even when there’s nothing to tell They feed off each other Born again idiots spouting hate Confidently assessing their own salvation If that’s your ‘heaven’ I hope you go there as one nation

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Thinking of Poetry

Just recently, I have been popping a lot of rhyme. Poems have been and continue to spill out of me and you know, thats just fine and dandy. I enjoy poetry. I enjoy playing with words and sounds. Somehow, poetry gives us the flexibility to play and joke with words and structures without having to worry too much about whether the result is correct or not. There surely in no correct in poetry – no right and no wrong. Poetry just is and it either works for you or it doesn’t. It doesn’t even have to rhyme! When I write a poem I usually start with just a feeling. Not an idea. There is no plot, no characters to develop, no story line. Just a feeling. Poetry is, or should

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The Sound of Dying

Sirocco breathe Stalking me Skeletal death A crossroads Decisions to be made Deeply disturbing Wrongly played I stare at eyes That pierce back at me A shadow falls Thinking radically Passing muster A heartfelt prayer No one’s listening Do it for a dare? Synchronous monsters Slithering home Silence is golden Especially when alone Deepening despair As eyes start to cry Is this it? Did I simply die? Fading sounds Darkening Grounding Rounding A corner Gone. Image: The Dying Fall – JG Ballard

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Texas Summer Sun

A summer rain falls Wet but warm Steam rises from the heated pavement The Texas sun is strong An endless scourge of baking heat It’s only fit for ants and reptiles And Mexican gardeners mowing lawns Dabbing perspiration from my brow Sipping on an ice cold yet tasteless beer Can I make it to the cooling pool? Or to an immense air-conditioned mall? Hoping for relief from a passing thunderstorm I’m dreaming now of winter European snow – a good icy blow Escape from this rabid summer heat Slowly frying in my own juices Dying from the scolding and abuses Of the blazing midday Sun

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Poetry Collection No. 4 – Moon Whispers

For some insane reason, I have bundled together a lot more recent poetry and am preparing another collection to be issued by BookSurge called Moon Whispers. I am currently looking for a couple of people willing to review it for the back cover and also perhaps for a good image for the front cover. Any takers?

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Julia Robert’s Smile

Troublesome emotions unchecked Anger deepens, rises and overflows Where does this deepening depression lead? Meanwhile the stars dance and twinkle Uncaring, unsharing shards of light A smile widens; teeth shining bright white Happiness is a viral happening at times Like Julia Roberts in Notting Hill No need to swallow any bitter pill Laughter tickles in the back of my throat A sneeze of exquisite joy explodes Those little drops of laughter burst out Infecting those around me It’s simply now a cacophony Infectious, riotous and bold As global laughter takes a hold.

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