Pool Tables

Life is a dream when you stop seeing in black and white.
You will find there is beauty immersed in the depths of colour.
But that is much like everything around us.
We earned our stripes on tables of opportunity.
Created out of solid foundations that had begun to crumble.
We had big shoes to fill and even those were racked out of reach.
And when we got racked in the pain of uncertainty, we began to grow out of the holes that once sank us.
Then without a cue, changes developed as we got scattered through the field of life.
All that would stick were the good memories and the gratitude we had for the journey.
The truth is it was a numbers game and we were lucky to be left standing...
The lucky number 8

A story with holes waiting to be filled.

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French Fry

We are just perfect, like good food and a side a of French fries.
Beautiful in colour and harmony, the true shades of a magpie.
If time usually flies, with you it's on standby.
And even when the distance does not make it perfect, you still feel nearby.
But what will make us perfect?
Wouldn't we be perfect on a candlelit dinner and a bottle of chardonnay?
And if I told you those three words, would you say it back to me?
But we're far from perfect.
I guess the way it's been cut is perfect bâtonnet.
The perfect show to be staged but at the moment we still at the matinee.
Still chasing sunsets...

Because you are good food and I am a French fry -
waiting for us to be perfect...

together.

-

Seeds.

In the field of life you're a special seed.
Full of promise, potential and endless dreams.
You see, you my dear friend are one of a kind.
Below the ground you're a diamond that's yet to be mined.
From the the dirt that once covered you, you'll begin to grow.
And the beautiful tree you are meant to be, will begin to show.
One that will bear fruit and bring life to the world.
But perhaps you're a flower that will bring beauty and colour.
Or a vine without limits, that will grow with valour.
But for now allow your seed to be watered.
By teachers, parents and a path unaltered.
And if in the soil you remain grounded to your roots.
Where your feet will lead shall be unbounded by your boots.
As you become more than anyone could imagine.
And we will unearth a treasure that is full of magic.

But for now, we'll remain patient....

-

Granadilla

 

She was a vision of colour and beauty but inside hid her darkest spots.

Filled with mystery and secrets that had all vined in knots.

You see…she was a blooming flower, in spaces where many had failed to seed.

And when I uttered words of affirmation, she would fail to see it.

But I would fail to cede.

You can say she was the apple of my eye, and I was passion fruit.

Became a tree of life, when I was previously just ash and soot.

And I’d dream of her in a wedding dress and me in old fashion suit.

But our love is lost in the depths of imagination.

All that could have been disappeared in the silence and trepidation.

And now those sands of time are creating dunes.

As I wait for the stars to align beyond the moons.

To once again find the flower with the five wounds.

 

And maybe then we'll be whole again...

-

The Book of Malice I: Blurb

Opened the book, looking for answers, difficult when you don't understand the question.
The opportunities seeked by chancers,
but that's a secret that'll require discretion.

This is only page one of three hundred and sixty-five.
The first line speaks of the truth that's been mystified.
Standard roles that are now redefined.
Written by the liars that were once dignified.
Perhaps that's what this moment has signified.
The culmination of a complex chapter that's yet to be simplified.

The next pages will produce paper cuts as you continue reading.
But you will tough it out as wounds accumulate and scars form, but eventually, you'll start ceding.
And with each bump, it's a cancerous though benign feeling.
Stemming from the pressure that has denied heeling.
And now it's words that cut, as you lay there supine... bleeding.

-

Life In The Words of...

Wrote most of these stories on empty pages, inked between lines.
With the intention that you too will read between lines.
For what the world knows can only exist between lines.
And seen between eyes.
But between you and I...
It's the naked truth that's draped in thick lies.
Clouding your judgement with thoughts of clear skies.
When in reality it's water from thick skies.
Washing away the tears from the discrete cries,
of a carcass attracting flies.
Stranded on the ground while time vehemently flies.
And sounds that once hit decible highs, begin to soften and as it slowly dies.
Blending with the dirt of these unpolished pieces, but maybe its all part of the guise.

I know you are probably lost, but so am I...

-

Hosts.

Its written in those books for all ages.
But the story is missing all pages.
It's in those plays put on small stages.
For the works of many, with no wages.
In the freedom that only exists in small cages.
And that will show you what Callous is.
Inside it's only more of what malice is.
And in the steps we take, towards ancient palaces.
Our feet will be riddled with corns and calluses.
Cut by glass pieces on the road less traveled.
The pieces of a crown belonging to a lost king
And the Feathers of a lost wing.
Flightless.
Keeping us grounded, as we look for an escape to normalcy.
But then again what is normal.

And what is the point of this story....

-

Love in the Past Tense IV.

It's in the bedding of fresh and crisp paper where you words would lay, correction it's where your words would lie.
Lie that you are not worthy of the intricacies of emotional intimacy.
Caressed gently by beautiful words of affirmation as I lay beside you, correction as lie beside you.
Lie and pretend that your foot rubs were not massaging the aorta and septum of my heart.
Lie that for me i can't spell happiness without Y, O, U.
And if that love is an accumulated debt, then I owe you.
Ohh how sweet is the fruit from the tree of love.
Has me forgetting we were once just flowers in a garden, pollinating.
Vines of seasoned grapes that will eventually age like fine wine.
And yes, you are all mine.
The doors I had once closed, with a gentle twist you slowly opened.
And if they say Chivalry has perished then we're but ghosts in the dead of night.

Playing this game of hide and seek, as I struggle to believe how I found you.

-

Love in the Past Tense III.

I found shelter in the comfort of your love.
Safety.
Allowed me to be me and free again.
Liberty.
Took me with all my pain and you were there as a remedy.
Healing.
I don't know how to tell you are perfect because at times words escape me.
Tacit.
And if it's by chance you were put by my side, then it's a chance I'll take.
Gambling.
And if it's forever that is promised, then I'll hold you to that.
Liable.
And I know we'll tumble and fall but I trust we'll pick each other up.
Standing.
And I yearned for it to be unconditional and I believe it is.
Sacrifice

The odds are stacked against us, but I'm Gambling of the Safety of love bring Liberty into my life. From where I'm Standing it won't be without Sacrifice but we'll hold each other Liable. And the fact that I'm slowly Healing speaks volumes although we're Tacit.

It's something great that we've built and I'm that unstable block in a game of Jenga...
Falling.

-

Love In The Past Tense II.

I miss your writings, riddles and Haikus
Mesmerizing it was just to have our friends say "How cool".
And when we flew half way across the world out of impulse... indeed how cool.
But do you remember that?
Do you remember us at the time?
That was us as a crime.
My heart was stolen, and the moments were devine.
I was all yours, but I guess you were never mine.
Do you remember love?
Coz I don't feel it anymore like I Used to.
It's not the same type of feeling I got Used to.
I miss your use of words, but come to think of it I was Used too.
All I yearned for were 4 letter words but you only Used two.
I know we were not cut from the same cloth, but it was all in how you were dressing.
And it's not your outfits I'm addressing.
It's your lies I'm undressing.
Exposing the naked truth, in this fight I'm aggressing.
These times are testing.
To get over you is depressing.
I didn't lose you as much as I lost myself. I'm trying to move on but I'm stuck.
Stuck on the thought that I'm not gullible enough for your trickery.
Stuck trying to let you know how it makes me feel.

Stuck in this game of scrabble, just looking for the words I need to make a point.

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