Liked

a sea with no beginning

grey days

a bored world

scratches on the vinyl

fingers laced

if I could…

as though in love

(the only thing I liked

was the music)

a naked wind

the Sun dawns spectacular

with the subjugation of the day

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To A Miss

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I, dancing in my own bitter disgrace,
Washed and hung out and my mind unaligned,
And with my memory I did erase.

Unable to maintain a fitful pace,
Body and soul so utterly resigned,
I, dancing in my own disgrace.

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May Madness

Desires
Insatiable desires,
Where many a soul have drowned,
Charmed by the hunter’s fires,
As his beast, so tightly bound.
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Grey
With scenes of the grey in life,
The disillusioned riot,
The arbitrary is rife,
As they do feed the disquiet.
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Lavender
Lavender scents do stain,
Reminiscent of you,
With a sense that remains,
Long after you pass through.
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Chance Encounters

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Sage’s Time

sagestime:

I watch images of my looking back,

My tired life of this and then of that,

Listening to my life’s own soundtrack,

Awaiting a song, ne’er to arrive at.

:

I do find myself naked and ashamed,

Seized by the world’s ceaseless brutality,

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April Madness I

The Deanery

Your breath of stale tobacco,

And mine of a sour red wine,

My floor show of cheap Bordeaux,

And yours of old man’s decline.

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31/09/2012 – Time

Time. I am forever checking my watch. The need to constantly know the time is insatiable. I am unaware of what I am waiting for, or what I miss with my eyes on the watch face. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, I could continue in this vain forever, and, in the past, I have. Today perhaps I begin my time travel backwards to a simpler time. Back to basics. Only I always fear I could turn my pilgrimage to the bookshop to buy a book into a philosophical journey of self-discovery. What am I expecting back at the starting line? Will one author’s literary journey and transformation somehow mirror myself? The author who turned a passion for reading into a fiery inferno, And even now, I am frightened to turn the pages.

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