Wayward Skiff

Poetry patterns and prayers
Patter of pen in spirit and stares
Grateful habits blessings divine
Matters of passion absorbed and opine

Let it be, words and wisdom
A gap, a sea tranquil and deep
But pages stay dry
Under guls drifting high

Can't succumb to the pressure of peers
Reality deaf to their naked ears
As they move and bob in sleep
Jolt awake, devoted to seek

In time the waves make shore
Washing over sand and sores
The message enfogged in rhythm
Revealed in chimes unwritten

The Sun Obscured

They love Jesus
But despise the others
Ego vomit
Spewed out on our brothers

The sun obscured
It's always there
Despite smog and smug
Man-made affairs

We are complete and un-wrong
Get high, fill the void
It's a popular song
That yields a life devoid

Perception is real
But a piece of work still
For the eyes of energy
To rejoice and be in

As well as I
Creature miracle
To dance and employ
All faculties enjoy

For spectators rush
Get a boost from the true
Bare witness to touch
My lips on you

Like waves on the coast
Birth breeze and mist
My heart's misty rainbow
Came alive when we kissed

The Golden Frogs

What's wrong
That hasn't been done
By busy
Business boys?

What's the consequence
That is witnessed
Or lived
In a quick lifetime

A puma's step
On a leaf or twig
Like a solo chinaman
Performing tai chi

Searching for solace
In a partner that hides
Secretly quit
Or not living the script

Narrating a life
Standing firm in a storm
Lightness of being
Above the norm

Perish the thoughts
Perplex thing
Open wide
Dare to sing

I Don't Want What You're Having

I don't want your peace
Cops in the streets
Tazers and rotors
Profiling gun toters

I don't want your city
Towering sky shredders
Sound proof cubes
Glowing monitor's pity

I don't want your eden
Bloodied dove
Drenching the desert
No power of love

I don't want your care
Animal trials, toxic viles
Tumors manufactured
Pills and hopes fractured

I don't want your town
Square feet bleeding
Bulldozed trees
Smug, spoiled frown

Landscaped life
Carved out of nature
What's yours I don't want
Not God's nomenclature