I began to write Poetry somewhere in the terrifying fog of childhood. An instinctive act of defiance against those who would have preferred to smuggle me and their disgusting secrets, into a convenient early grave.
Decades later I continue to write for the very same reasons; as a vehicle for the underdog to speak the truth and as a gesture of respect and admiration for the many silenced children whose voices are never heard.
I dream my words may somehow bond our hearts together for their endless journeys home and unite us in the desperate search for unconditional love.
When our empty world spins silently
black rains will wash the sky
and the sun will shine ferociously
upon seas that have boiled dry.
...
Regretably the moment passed,
For one last kiss, the chance expired.
Invisibly your time amassed,
To go beyond all things desired.
...
I hope when your ego is scraping the ceiling
and your mirrors grow tired of that smile,
you will choke on the guilt trip denying you feeling
and drown in seductive style.
...
I went back to our avenue of autumn gold today
to see if you would always be there as you'd said.
Yet found that even there, our most treasured of places,
was quiet, still and empty of one other living soul.
...
If each star in the heavens went out in the night
Would that show how I suffer here out of your sight.
As the warmth of the morning unlocks the new day
Will you know I walk with you, each step of the way.
...