GREETINGS

greetings i send from lands away,
besides sulken bowls of tears filled,
man is a friend yet a foe
to nay but he a brother tag bequeth,
greetings i send,
from lands away,
where this dark livery,
of a dying sun begets a mate,
but nay ....i wait,
and to roses that did fade,
of passions that did drown,
canned spinach would raise,
but lest a mind be popeyes',
but hey greetings i send,
to mates i never met,
and foes hiddden in scarlet kisses,
i breath,
and to same i bethink of thee.....

farewell with pleasure

she was as sweet as the dripping honey,
fair as the morning leaves,
her touch was smooth,
and warm like the afternoon sky,
her voice was soft,
her words....oh..
melodious tunes of an African clay cast,
she walked with the goose sway,
left.. bum.. bum.. right.. bum.. bum,
rythmique...

after her, many ran,
to be welcomed with the painted smile,
that weakened every eye that did cast a glance,
in they went,
out they came, each a tale so different,

they did pride selves on the Conquest,
the lions that laid the prey,

now she lies ,
cold and grey,
scaled and thin as a desert horse,

none after her runs...

tonight the ropes will bury the brave,
such farewells of pleasure bid

Tears Run Dry

i have tried to write my emotions down, and may have succeeded in many a time but this, for the best part i have had a date with sadness, shared a bed with pain..... and today they visit again..
it be no ones fault for they tried. but these tears i shed to moan mine self, i had a queen, but I treated her like a maid, had an angel but i whisked her away,
now but tears..
a man should not cry they say, I. will

In happiness after

It lay out on her shoulder,
Risen up to her four foot eight,
Haughtily she shook off from his hold,
And you could see a tear....

And i from Pandora through Pankhurst have seen,
It never turns gray lest its intent is a fall,
But beauty has slain,
Liberty and happiness at cost.

And she had it all.
Held by her ancestral horbs,
The hairy hunker on the left,
Skating his wisdom down her lobe,
The caveman on the right,
Blubbering nothing that was right,

And of she went to their merry,
A distraught beauty,
In search of happiness,
But it never lies before the sun,
But after