The stars could not be numbered
but by those brown eyes they were
counted less and their light,
a way through the years
that courted her.
Words from the Jagged Edge of Truth
The stars could not be numbered
but by those brown eyes they were
counted less and their light,
a way through the years
that courted her.
The murmurings of his own contentment
could be heard above the clamour,
the adulation of the crowd
gushing at the emperors new clothes
as he sat somewhat removed
humming his own tune.
The murmurings of his own contentment
could be heard above the clamour,
the adulation of the crowd
gushing at the emperor’s new clothes
as he sat somewhat removed
humming his own tune.
He hung his head in some shame
for the rape and assault,
for the cocaine and obscene
and loutish behaviour
but it was decreed
his contract shall remain;
he quoted from his religious book
and all hell broke loose
and his contract was torn asunder.
Realising on the approach
of seventy years of age
that the podium was now
out of reach, he chose rather
to pen words without expectation
and for no other reason than to
exercise his weakening lungs.
We build fences
between us
without gates
to facilitate
neighbourly
interaction;
we remain cloistered
in our own
ever decreasing
space.
He struggles now
to see the road ahead,
its twists and turns
lost in a blur of fog;
he always believed
in the promise
of the next corner
but he thinks now
that the promise
may have been false.
We throw words around
and at each other
like they were
magic potions
with the ability
to change your
way of thinking
to mine.
This evening
the streetlight was out,
someone cut the cable,
and from my front deck
I saw the the moon
and the autumn stars
dancing cheek to cheek.
Take the long road
through the valley
over the mountain
across the plain
along the coast,
take the time
to take in the view
pause on the journey
taste the morning dew.