The Edge of the World

Exploring ants forage a living
In their concrete poolside world.
There and back in a single day
Takes them to a finite edge:
An edge they never question.

Birds do not only sing in captivity;
They create on the wing. High above,
The owl sees one in a million ants
Take a chance, suddenly inspired,
To fall off the edge of the world.

She's no Friday's Child you know

The Bard is so delicious,
And munchkins so nutritious,
I think it's most auspicious
That we should meet today.

You really must excuse me,
I continually use thee
To make sure I do not lose me
On such a rainy day.

You really are a dear, dear,
For one consumed by fear here,
When there's not a single peer near
To guide you on your way.

Don't squeeze me with your mangle,
I won't dilly now or dangle,
I'm not too new fangle
No! For the way we play.

Kissing David Bowie

An exploration of soul

With its life map,

Its musical key.

All is soft:

Our hearts and vision,

Our hands and voices;

Lips that long without possession,

Only a beat, a joint rhythm:

"How luc-ky am I"

"How luc-ky am I".

There is no mountain,

No test of endurance:

Our belief, relief and humour are the same.

We are beginners,

Walking arm in arm,

In a gentle dream of love.

Pointless

Today I write and write;

I write with all my might:

I write in hope of hope;

And I always dot the i's.

Today I fight and fight;

I fight with all my might:

I fight and want to win;

And I always dot the i's.

Today I strive and strive;

I strive to stay alive:

I strive to stay afloat;

And I always dot the i's.

Today I found no light;

Only despondency in sight:

There's no return from where I've been;

So I no longer dot the i's

On the way home, post-mojitos

Thighs thighs thighs
I am obsessed!
Round and firm,
Chunky, thin,
Women's, men's,
Rubbing together,
Stretching jeans
To full capacity....
I am obsessed with thighs,
The way they sigh at me,
Mirroring my longing,
Meeting the gaze of my lips
Which I lick,
Slowly;
Desire passing,
Mouth to flesh
In my head - 
The inside coming out.
I am sure
Everyone can see;
I am obsessed with thighs.

The Chameleon

The chameleon lies in sun or rain.

Absorbing what is around her,

Becoming her surroundings.

No one knows 

What the chameleon looks like

For she is different to all.

Her voice, her face,

How she moves

Change with each setting.

She is no one;

Lost. In a sea of otherness

She is alone.

Knitting

The threads and fibres
Pull in opposite directions;
The weft and weave
Stretch to breaking point.
With a great deal of time,
Patience, and ever-increasing skill,
I slowly knit them back together.
I have come to know
The flow of my left hand,
The clarity of my right;
I see their vulnerability
As they mend this taut split,
Deftly intertwining wool
Like thoughts in a mystery.