Words and Meaning
Collection of Poems 2
Summer poems
The right not to know
Being in love
The clock tics
Too mad for comfort
Light flickers
I feel like Kissing
His Hands
This building
I can't stand them
A cup of tea
All dressed up
Your love again
Hard Fuck
Kissing someone elses girlfreind
she doent care
too mad for comfort
Dressed up
Did I tell you I loved you?
Another day
Home breed Chicks
A woman
Human Map
A wasted day
Understanding Stupidity
Latest News
Collection of Poems 1
Collection of Poems 2
the pre-whineybaby


Out of sight, out of mind
and out of your sight.
we sit out of your thoughts.

And yet you creep into ours
-you would be flattered
had you thought to ask.

Somewhere the morning sun
wakes your sleeping eyes
and we are not there,

not there to watch you
strike a morrisy pose,
or play the deablo lost in thought.

Every street corner has a memory
one for every time of day
I was there with you.

How glad I am
that out of sight
you are not out of my mind.

And how glad I am
that this just makes me
treasure my remaining friends

Stone statues on guard

stand still when pigeons fly.
a chimney of red brink atop
a touch of cream stone
mingled to deadened life.
A watchtower no longer
you stood while others fell
leaving empty grave magnifies
of modern regeneration
Surrounded, engulfed a city
selling fuji film in your shadow
to the flocks of tourists
your magnifies draws.
But on a grey day
in my life and yours
the scaffolding covers us both
awaiting summers chapalist tide.


I found heaven but wanted hell
Food is good, not when it pleases
but when its healthy.
Clothes are nice, not when they express
but when they have style.
Conversation is friend, not when it communicates,
but when it laughs.
But these rules I found heaven.
Spirit me away, back to hell.
where I can eat if it pleases my tounge
wear my mental state,
and walk out at your jokes.

Asking for it.

The thrill of a midnight walk, along dark roads.
Alone the moon watches my progress solemnly
bathing me in white light, far brighter than my innocence.
At times to shadowed threes my heart beats faster
that its normal sluggish meandering on life's quite lane.
The draw of breath well placed for a horror film,
turns into a sigh once the next lamp circle's entered.
Does this raise your eyebrow, or nod your head
bringing 'I always thought so' to your tongues tip?
But let those fated words rest silently yet
I've not said my fill.
For I am one of many midnight walkers
limbered limbed with purpose stride we are undividable
and in the heat of darkness you would mistake me.

I see my soul
reflected between branches
into he darkness of the night.
The white of eyes and teeth
catching the candle light.
Youth shines through.
-my skin pure background,
eyebrows, eyes, nose, mouth, hair,
the totality of my soul,
only part of my face.
The trees outside are bare,
but no snow this birthday.

Traced in silver lines of time
I sought to put a person to rhyme
but I could not find her likeness
in the fishs silver backed wave
or the birds game to graceful gravity negate
till in my tired stalemate
I saw a desert sandrose
For this, if picked between hasty fingers
to sand will crumble at such blunders
and so when once found, cradle the petals
gently against dark storm battles,
the same raging wind air which carried
each single grain of red stone bead
to bond in final womanhood acceptance
creating the person of such substance.


I miss you

In the dark of the night, I miss you.
Your shadow is no longer here,
tall and darkly brooding
your memory hangs over my words
my hands dance in mimicry.
Not such a bad thing if my mind would follow.

This world is beautiful
even without you.
The tree leaves hang
suspended autumn drops,
against a winter sky.
I turn to your shadow
from under the lamplight
watching you fade from memory.


I dreamt of you yesterday,
my ghost lips on your shoulder
their skin against yours tasting
A part of me hates you
not thinking of me in absence
so I withhold myself from your tongue
exhibiting myself to your ears
its as much soul showing as we can take.

On the box

Never sure where we stand
in a room full of mirrors
I reach for you
touching your shadow
living a blue peter show
with no stage hands
the set changing
with the smile on your face
If I send in a letter
would you answer it
with a kiss?