I come from a musical place
Where they shoot me for my song
And my brother has been tortured
By my brother in my land.
I come from a beautiful place
Where they hate my shade of skin
They don't like the way I pray
And they ban free poetry.
......
The leaves are blowing away
Up, up, and away they go.
Swish, swoosh, they go.
Like a dancing ballerina
Up, up and away they go
Way up , in the sky.
The trees standing there,
Their branches all bare.
The wind whistling throughout empty branches,
......
Without you every morning would feel like going back to work after a holiday,
Without you I couldn't stand the smell of the East Lancs Road,
Without you ghost ferries would cross the Mersey manned by skeleton crews,
Without you I'd probably feel happy and have more money and time and nothing to do with it,
Without you I'd have to leave my stillborn poems on other people's doorsteps, wrapped in brown paper,
Without you there'd never be sauce to put on sausage butties,
Without you plastic flowers in shop windows would just be plastic flowers in shop windows,
Without you I'd spend my summers picking morosley over the remains of train crashes,
Without you white birds would wrench themselves free from my paintings and fly off dripping blood into the night,
Without you green apples wouldn't taste greener,
......
Verse, a breeze 'mid blossoms straying,
Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee -
Both were mine! Life went a-maying
With Nature, Hope, and Poesy,
When I was young!
When I was young? -Ah, woeful When!
Ah! for the change 'twixt Now and Then!
This breathing house not built with hands,
This body that does me grievous wrong,
O'er aery cliffs and glittering sands
......
The July 1928 morn was calm, fair and crystal clear,
And no Bogueman 'bout hurricane warnings did hear.
So about their fishing/farming chores they did go,
While eyeing the weather for signs that could spell "woe." When of a sudden the sea raged and howling winds blew high,
And across the sky darkened clouds did fly.
Beating rain, like angry bees, the Boguemen's feet did sting
While these people to houses on the hill, some food and themselves
did bring. Later through battened windows their eyes popped wide,
For gone was all the water from the bay and all the weather commotion died.
Then like happy children, Boguemen over dry sea bottom walked,
......
Today the world is grey. Every cloud, every window, every room. The same dull melancholy tones.
On days like today, its hard not to feel grey too.
The rain did some partiality
In some states was kind,
and in some was cruelty.
some got the worst drought-hit
and some were provided the deluge.
some people yearned for the drop,
and some were provided an amount huge.
The rainfall going down
even the rainforest got hit,
in people's minds, the reason still isn't fit.
......
where are you? do i know you?
have we met? what's your name?
were you the one drinking soju?
were you and i being untame?
i think of you when i see the sky
a gentle reminder of your existence
i want to try, but i don't want to pry
what do i do? make this make sense
......
Watch the sky stumble.
As the clouds bundle,
Let them all fumble.
For such ignorant blunder.
Just a little rumble.
Jolting a crackle.
And it'll all crumble.
The water pringles-(to tingle persistently or annoyingly).
......
desert blooms at noon
days of drought in the deep south
when love first ignites
a summer heat wave
quickly melting ice cream cones
wild activity
the long torrid nights
a profuse early blooming
......