Edge of fire

Your voice comes to me



I close my eyes drifting back in time

of days by the waterfalls

of sunny days

and of youth that would never end

can we go back

begin again

if in a dream

a time-lapse image

of the man in black and white

who sang just to me.

I sit here now

hair grayling nicely

knowing those days won’t be back

anytime soon,

they will not return

except in dreams

and voices from machines.

generations grow and move forward

childish whims left sometimes behind,

yet I sit here with the little box

and you croon to me

to light your fire

But I’ve a meeting to attend,

so fine sir you must wait

lord knows we can’t get much higher

just high on life,

’cause a random drug test would leave me home

watching your loveliness on you tube

while eating Bon bons on the couch

if I were to join you in the mire

of herbs and things taboo.

So sing to me Mr Morrison

and I shall make do

with memories of youth and days

that I wished didn’t have to end.

Back to the drudge

of another day in the concrete jungle

please send the crystal ship soon!!


Presents of presence

You bestow upon

this weary mind

visions of beauty

and presents through presence.

The stars above

know the truths below

are momentary fractions

in a small slice of time.

Ever changing

re arranging

lives through circumstance

and what destiny lays before

the feet and heart

of mortal man,

he who stares at the sky searching

Galileo looking for more

beyond this physical existence,

beyond mere thought.

Into action

feasts for the  hungry

visions of magnificence

filling the starving soul.