Like a deplorable trail of smoke

From the final cigarette of a bum

Who had it all and then lost it all,

You fade into the air and are forgotten.


Your body falls through shadows

Like hollow bones in a grave,

But you are lost, drunk and unfeeling

And you let the ether claim you.


Then like a lover expectant

Lying on an unmade bed with red sheets,

You try to sleep but your mind is in oil

And your eyes see angels.


You never woke, you never slept.

Like a cut out headline you imprint then decay,

Leaving only remnants of a burnt page

Dancing in the lost space of a man’s mind.


Champagne, no name, never to age,

Your eyes say they have seen it all

But you shiver at the sight of the poor

And your feet bleed as you dance.


Do not fool with the glitterati of the city.


Stream of City Consciousness

Walking out of a yellow stone wall bar
With a half empty tequila in hand
Ice falling out of your pockets
A serviette sticking out your pants
A cigarette ½ a centimetre in your hair
A signed Polaroid of the dancer
Who works telephone operations in Detroit
Mexican night cap sombrero slender
Cat wailing night time driver got batteries
For the smoke alarm back home
His wife is 180 pounds and works at Macy’s
He’d mow his lawn if he had one
You look at him with disdain
Ash mingles with the tangles in your hair
A gnome waits outside with a pitchfork
And the happy accident of 85 rides in
On a chrome horse
Probably out of dice again long trip Reno in the rain
Naked beat drunk midnight train
Hollering moon unfortunate crow with teary eyes
Children hide behind grit grey blinds
With the lights on watching the late shows
While mother vomits, husband cleenex drain clean
Big bop band draws the scene
Picasso, Van Gough they got change for the subway
Pop penny’s in the cracked hand of gorillas
With furrowed brows lying on the streets base feet
Lined with leather shoes on 1905 pavement
On 5th street constructed with earnest in 1886
One month since the publication of the daily paper
Rats take shelter in the covers there children
Squeal with hunger, virginal daughter makes an offer
Passing light shines dull and devilish, it’s belief.

Lonely Streets

I have stopped by the faint light of night
To see the clock face moon high above
And the rich man’s tomb sunken and dark.

I’ve turned the pages of Melville in the cold
Passing strangers with scarred hands pleading
I kept on reading, walking to echoes speaking.

I could never say goodbye to my friends;
The tap of my heel is the only sound now.
This nocturne never strays from illumination.

My need to call to those that pass me by
Intensifies with each unsure breath I hear,
Everyone is scared, a welcome hand seems cruel.

I have walked blue streets in morning mist,
Sun kissed stars fade away one by one.
All feeling of true loneliness has gone.

What Lies Between?

What lies at rest with the balance of life?

The saintly embers of a proud sun,

The opera of a flower in bloom,

The first sight of the world at dawn.


What challenges transcendence?

Torture in all its forms,

A guilt torn mind and an enflamed heart,

The final sight of your love.


What here lies between –

A full and ethereal attainable dream,

Every breath is a symphony in eternity,

Every face a star reflected in an endless sea.

The Price of Silence

What is the price we pay for silence?

Is it a dream, as cold as a fallen angel?

Or a heart burnt within the chest of a soldier?

Do we let our caged birds die inside us –

Or do we let them sing when we think

That no one can hear?

Should we defer from the life we desire –

Or do we sacrifice our fear to the flame?

Do we dare give it a name?

What do we think our silence could bring –

Does it give us all, could it pay for everything?

No, we are left with nothing.

We Are Never Apart

There is a golden city at rest on the shore,
Its nature, its ballrooms of stars,
The cascading waterfall of riches in the soul.
You stand on the black sand
Reaching out to sea
As if to grasp my own hand.
But we both see the first frail branch of autumn
Spread across the horizon that severs us,
And we are sure that we are together –
We feel the same winds.

Pictures of Green

There are moments green with absinthe age

Locked in photographs, appearing in years

That fall like glistening snow on to the stems

Of dying roses. Stories that speak of nocturnes

And nights, star lights burning yellow;

An ember for God dancing in the window of a tower.

Vagrant occupants, rain swept cobble steps

Echoing in a chorus of sparkling alcohol;

They have chimed in midnights since,

Never to be forgotten – for they are heard

By the homeless child and the summer songbird.

The coal and the ash, the clouds and the sea

A chant to beauty in all its rarity.

They all surrender to a flash of light.

Classical Music

Offer to me your shadows

Your remnants of a refrain

Or the echo of a voice

That sounds the same.


Let the break of day arrive

In the pale vibration of sun light

Or the brittle glimmer

Of a cold moon at midnight.


Set free your youthful angels

To watch over us like stone,

Like statues with hollow eyes

With ancient names unknown.


Offer to me your embers

Of your final flame

That danced bright in your eyes

When you couldn’t look away.


Do not abandon your demons,

They search the streets

For that sudden feeling

That grows when strangers meet.


Sounds of joy in gentle rivers,

Subdued winds in the sky.

Find your travellers lost

Where ever angels lie.