Early in the morning, 

when nothing has spoiled a day,

sleepily smiling at nothing,

birds singing any which way. 

Laying in bed, with no cares.

Laughing quietly despite the rain.

Seeing happiness throughout the years,

ignoring the everlasting pain.

Early in the morning. 

In the afternoon,

where everything is real,

Just as hot as June,

anger blazing strong as steel.

Working hard with cares so strong,

working and thinking rushing me,

trying to remember a sweet little song,

to set the worries free.

In the afternoon. 

Late in the evening,

when I can finally let go.

when I can feel my thoughts leaving,

and not have to feel my woe.

Laying in bed telling myself tall tales,

bidding sleep to come,

adding extra attention to the details,

until all I hear is a faint drum.

Late in the evening. 

Early in the morning,

I'm up and happy again. 

not caring the sky is storming,

for a while I seem insane. 

I know but not fear

what is coming my way,

For all I can hear,

is the song I try to remember all day. 

Early in the morning.

Would you believe it was a mere coincidence the following day that Lavinia was also chasing that little snobbish bastard John Peppard? After all the nasty things he did and especially the mayhem that shyster caused during the elections it was a worthy cause.

That night we both were out celebrating again by coincidence at the same club, our graduation as journalists from Fleet Street & Words College. We defiantly did not bring up the very first tasks we both had planned for the next day. But after spending a special evening and night together happily inebriated, I’m sure we did not recall everything!

Smooth to the touch.

Pale to the eye.

Oh how you once hurt.

Oh how I did cry.

Gut wrenching pain.

Endless first aid.

I hoped that one day.

You soon would fade.

Month after month.

You never left me.

You stayed by my side.

For each being to see.

Soon you fit in.

Like one of the stars.

I will never forget.

One of my first scars.

oh robin in the tree

one beady eye on me

the other

a bother

for the black bug

wings wrapped snug

on leaf of the Lilac tree

under which we drink our tea

to my eldest I turn

and a story is born 

dear child keep strong

sing loud and long

yon robin has proud chest

for he sang without rest

to save a princess

"Dad!!!!!!!!"

It's true. for once the bird was dour

lived in Royal ground . Feathers brown 

singing to please the princesses crowd

until. Horror. Illness. Proclaimed loud

'Princess was dying having lost 

love for life broken hearts cost'

little bird he loved with all his heart

and by her window a song did start 

inside in a week sickly state

to her beat did the tune relate

and morbid promise was made

that it was to be her final refrain.

the bird sang through the day

and through the night . stay

by her and steady stave

no food or drink did it crave.

For on that wooden sill

a dirty splinter a thorn ill

pressed ever closer into chest

of that songbird that took no rest.

slowly the blood began to seep

and single flow set to creep

along the ledge up to edge

of drop onto sickly hair

shocking the poorly girl sitting there

Her eyes filled with pity for another 

that song of love from red chest cover

over fidelity, hope, courage and caring

that lifted her to desire life sharing.

A rush of her own blood carried her

to pull that splinter from the feather

stained forever red

for a life, by love, led.

"Load a Bllx Dad"

Why do wars exist?

Why can't people love each other?

Why must you use your fist?

Why can't we make sense with one another?

Why is the only feeling to subsist?

Why not care for your brother?

Why are so many people filled with hate?

Why are so many people depressed?

Will the world be okay at this rate?

Why aren't our feelings expressed?

at sunset if you're lucky

one day you'll see

under the fading orange sky

tanned feet crunch white sand

and leave vague imprints

as the velvety shadowed figures

dance freely under the

pale pink glow

with their white flowing clothes

swirling to the beat of

mother nature's drum

playing alongside the

noise of the loud dark blue

crashing waves

smiling faces prodded on by the

music of the night

faces relaxed with open wonder

drinking in the moment

along with the piña coladas

that now lay empty under the

fiery bright glow of the tiki torches

as the tiny umbrellas from the drinks

catch in the wind and

pirouette in memories of

simpler times