July 26, 2012

 

 

It was his choice to be

remote and unreliable.

He preferred to remain

uncontactable, depriving

the world of his wisdom

and energy.

He felt almost duty bound

to exist in an all encompassing

cocoon of ideology.

His complexity made him all

the more fascinating.

He was master of his artistry.

A deep and passionate thinker.

A beautiful person locked

within his own universe.

 

 

 

 

When told by the doctor

the results of her tests

she stood there defiant

as ever, and simply said

‘Damn it’,  before allowing

one solitary tear to fall upon

her cheek, rendering us all

numb and unable to speak.

 

 

July 24, 2012

 

 

Grab life by the balls

and squeeze hard.

 

 

 

 

 

Write your number

on the back of my hand,

and soon I will take you

to the promised land.

 

 

 

 

 

The truth, what matter the truth?

A little white lie here and there,

an exaggeration, an impressive tweak.

Elaboration abounds, when glory we seek.

 

 

 

 

She’d supported him through his lunacy,

and was his ‘get out of jail’ card.

But enough was enough.

Life had made her hard.

She’d at last smelt the coffee

and was now on her guard.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When young  go wild and free

for old age would be dull indeed

without memories of reckless times

to thrive on.

 

 

July 23, 2012

 

 

He sat on his backyard step every day,

smoking two cigarettes at once,

with a bottle of cider to hand.

He would hurl verbal abuse at

anyone who dared to pass by.

Sometimes he’d leap up and

dance around them, like the

devil possessed.

But he endeared himself to the

local folks who knew him to be

harmless.

Then one day he died.

And that back street

lost all it’s soul.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was all about opportunity

It happened

It shouldn’t have

But it did

And they just had to live with it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

They lay together

and the world stood still.

Two hearts as one.

No better thrill

 

 

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