20 March 2012

A Spot Of Oil

Crazed images of a question
Like a spot of oil burning in my mind
Torn conflict haggling for more room
And the pages of a diary
All too soon consumed.
Whispers of a dew-struck morning
Veiled like a lie on a silken tongue
Sneaking light on a horizon
Of no-tomorrows, broken silence
Creaky old man wearing tight shoes.
Every moment lived till forgotten
Temporary forevers in folded gold
A false light breaks on the horizon
And a small bird shivers with the cold.

Hollow Vessels

Fuck happy,
No stable emotion created more
Than well-cut lawns and polished floors;
No passion, no flair,
No mindless stare
Into the looking glass,
Peering through time,
Sharing oblivion through hapless smiles,
The statues of a clean, cold world,
The ever-present half-full glass,
The empty, hollow vessels of a love
Structured, organized.

Dream Tourist

Absolute surrender to a dream within a dream,
Finding layers in the ocean,
Blurring lines of definition,
Swamped by challenges of devotion
Information as a sensation
Emotion as education
Dereliction of reason
For fascination alone......

Neglecting scope for saturation
There is drive to be eclectic,
Direction without motivation,
Ecstasy and agony,
For apathy aches for innovation....

Wanderlust, yet wonder-free,
Shackled by tourism's blinkered duty,
Innocence open, but sightseer-spoken,
A revelry in seeing, not being.....