Sunday, September 25, 2011


Stitched indeed firmly so
within the hem of silence
that sways with your gait
and slumbers with your soul
I call your name three times and more
into infinity.

But infinity’s a thing unknown
here in time’s shortened lifespan
and voices in the silence
a certain unreality
that turns the ears outward
into life’s cacophony.

It’s a din of this and that and “stuff”
designed as a distraction
from the meaningful
and all who listen slip and fall
into ignorance.

And of ignorance it clings and sucks
the lifeblood from a soul
until it shrivels up and dies
there in that hem of silence.

And when silence is indeed silent
we know we’ve crossed the line
from the living into dead
and what a life, yes, what a life
that ordains us all to be
unmindful of the silence?

Wednesday, September 21, 2011


I thought the rain would fall today
to facilitate renewal
but thoughts go only just so far
and can’t complete the journey.

It tells me they are powerless
when coming from a place
beyond the borders far away
from original blueprints.

And I sought amongst the theories
of how to change the plan
and how to make the static move
from the old into the new.

And I moved from here to there
and from there to there and back to here
pending then another move
to the foreign and the new ~
yet still I’m bound within the sphere
of all I’m thinking of.

I will complete my journey
in the year two thousand twelve
but of thoughts they’ll go meandering
again, again, again,
in spite, oh, yes, indeed in spite
of knowing they are useless!

Saturday, September 10, 2011

The time has come

The time has come the woman said
to speak of many things
like how she loved you in the days
before you turned away.

But speak she will not ever, ere
for there are many miles to go
before the end time’s nigh
and mind prepares to die.

It’s not a death that can be said
is for ever and a day
because maybe it will resurrect
into another world.

Sometime perhaps it maybe will
and she’ll remember you
but likely not because mind died
and dead is dead, dead, dead.

But there’s a saviour this she knows
and when the night comes full alive
with the noise of frogs et al
she sends a silent prayer up there
where the saviour dwells.

 It’s not a prayer of facts, figures,
or sure knowledge of the world at large
but she prays perhaps as all should do
for the saving of a soul!