Monday, April 27, 2009


You can drive
And I will ride
To live, to breathe,
to right, to write.

Take your poem
as your bride.
Stroke her
till your pen runs dry.

Weave fantasies
from deep inside
where sacred
secrets still reside.

Reply, combine
two doth twine,
Cilla's sunset
of the mind.

Heads and tails
both rewind
thread that binds
the poet's replies
eternal lives
both to grind
rhythmic lines
a thousand times
in sectioned aisles
forgotten child
waiting for
the one who smiles
upon the miles
and miles
and miles
the sun will rise
as days before
days before time

the mix-ed dye
doth breathe the fire
to scorch and ire
the holier higher
that hath desire
to kill the lyre
hang the liar
beneath the quagmire
Soft's pyre
two-k miles
no end in sight
it can be done--
left's right.

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