The Ride

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It’s in the moment I decided to follow

in the footstep of the black cat

as it crossed my path this morning,

that I knew I had no choice

but to wait for the red-eyed white owl

and fly through the fields of reckless destruction,

where consequences are sneered at and smothered

with the impulse of the possessed,

and I continue to feed the hunger
where thoughts without cost,

and deeds without innocence,

are loved, loathed, executed and eradicated.

You want to join the ride?

Memories

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In the early morning hours

when tears begin to fall,

reach to me and hold on tight

to the memories you have stored,

where the pictures of sunshine,

smiles and love have made their home,

where the dawn was greeted too

with a smile for each their own,

and the glory of the coming day

you were itching to grab hold,

conquer all you touch, you can,

your strides were long and bold.

Forget the heavy clouds outside,

ignore what you became,

that girl’s still there with you right now,

come back and live again.

I wish...

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I wish I could glide

on the wings of the wind,

let the raindrops in the clouds

cleanse my soul there where I’ve sinned,

swim with dolphins through the waves

with a limitless delight,

come to rest on desert sands,

powd’ry soft and snowy white,

before watching as the sky

turns into the deepest blue,

then I’ll close my eyes and dream,

dream sweet dreams of me and you.

Listen to my story

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Come, come here, come sit here with me

on the cold and moist ev’ning sand,

I need you here just to listen to me,

to that what I have to say…

...and I need to know that I’m not alone,

in the end that it’ll be okay,

so put your arms ‘round me

to show that you care,

that these dragons together we’ll slay.

Weeping Wishes

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In the darkness of the dawn

man-made promises deflate,

into wisps of weeping wishes

that defeat you and negate,

as you hover on the brink

of a helplessness severe,

with the first rays of the sun,

let the truth release your fear.

The Fate of the Dreamer

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I find my way through moonlight

through the twinkling midnight stars,

to the big-eyed girl that’s listening

in her mind to blues guitars,

while she drifts into a waking

dreamland that is hers alone,

where she dreams past what is real,

that which she has now outgrown.

And this dreamer flits through mazes,

follows instinct, has no doubt,

as she tweaks dirt into beauty

with an ease in time lights-out,

‘till the threat of nearing dawn

lasso’s in this spirit free,

and with misery she descends,

for the dawn weighs heavily.

The Laughing Seagulls

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There’s a place where seagulls laugh,

nestled in the arms of a valley of pine trees

that whisper in the salty breeze, where on cloudy days

the tops of these trees are decked in a fluffy white coat

while a thin veil drapes over the valley.

At the back of this place, pine trees hug a little piece of lawn

that invites you to lie on it on warm summer nights.

And this I do under grinning stars, listening to the waves

tell tall tales of sunken ships, and sometimes I even hear a mermaid sing

of far-off homelands and long lost love.

The inside is warm.  Polished wood and Persian carpets

surround a fireplace. On cold winter nights the fire roars

and the waft of burnt sugar drifts through the air

while Mick Jagger once again assures me

that ‘old habits die hard’.

But the attic is a special place... a wall of glass that

frames the ocean. A comfortable couch, a laptop, books and pictures,

and it’s here that I'm drawn to, where the mind and the words are free,

and thoughts dance like specks of light on the wall,

while all the time, the seagulls laugh at me...

There is a time...

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Yeah, so there are things you’re good at

and things you love to do.

Maybe you’re good at it because you love it,

or is it the other way round, I wonder,

but I digress…

Life, however, has this annoying little habit

of interfering with our ability to do them.

Time seems elusive,

disappearing like a leaf in the gusty autumn wind,

gone without a trace in an instant.

Or is it the energy levels that dip

as you get lost wandering through the empty rooms at home,

staring out of windows, all the while waiting,

praying, for that voice in your head to come up with

a million and 1 other things that need doing.

Need? Really?

Do you really need to snip those flowers? Dust those annoying ornaments?

Fill every waking moment with an activity recognized by the world at large

as something considered to be constructive?

Or should you rather just sit down, stretch out your legs

in the warm afternoon sun, in that quiet corner specifically designed

to relax in and read a book, but never have,

or maybe daydream,

daydream until the sun is but a faint memory,

in a time where the owls swoop soundlessly through the air,

where even the wind has blown itself to sleep

and your mind is refreshed and relaxed

enough to see past the obstacles created by the chaos of everyday.

‘Cause when you can reach that place,

everything is possible,

dreams are real,

and choosing to act is the only, possible answer,

even fear doesn’t feel so bad at all,

in fact, it doesn’t scare anymore,

but fills you with courage and excitement instead,

and you stand up from this daydream

to do, to live, to just experience that which you love,

which you’re good at,

and smile…

because time, too, denies every thief its victory,

and under the light of the passing moon

your dreams become real once more.

Adrift

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With a murmuring breath, the edge becomes smooth,

the ledge not as high, much wider than you thought,

your feet become still, your trembling hands rest,

your eyes see new things that have been there before.

Your mind starts to drift on a raft in a sea,

smooth as those edges, a sigh of release…

The place in my mind

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There’s a place in my mind

with silvery skies,

where pine trees whisper

with the breath of the breeze,

that brings ‘bout a stillness

to the infinite noise

that’s ruling, that I can’t control.

And it’s here I retreat,

where I shut out the noise,

ere the darkness too deep,

creeps too far in my soul,

and smothers my breath,

to the poison that swells

to a plane of hopeless despair.