The small experience gave color
to a clouded evening
of tedious bread, eggs,
orange juice, purchases,
and responsibilities.
The church bells
are not chiming
outside this song
and a fly isn’t mocking
my sincerity.
“The grass is
greener”
on your side
of the train track
where there is less trash,
crumpled beer cans,
and your sunset
has more colors.
“There was a ragged man
who followed in our
footsteps,”
but I am sprinting
toes to heel
on the cement clouds
overhead.
Gravity shakes her tired head.
Borrow songs Poetry Contest
1/21/2026
Sponsored by: Fire Bird
In the gentle pulse of a distant guitar,
a voice drifts, half-remembered, half-alive.
White walls and silent corridors,
where thoughts flicker like old fluorescent lights.
A question asked—are you listening;
are you somewhere between here and the dream?
The world outside blurs at the edges,
a hush falls over memory.
Hands reach, but sensation is muted,
as if wrapped in fog or faded cloth.
There is comfort in the numbness,
a velvet ache that soothes without healing.
Stories echo—childhood fever, distant voices,
a doctor’s silhouette at the bedside.
The notes stretch, unraveling, filling space,
hovering above the weight of flesh and mind.
Each chord a gentle descent,
spiraling inward, away from the pain.
Light shines through half-closed eyes,
soft and indifferent.
The question returns—
is this relief, or surrender?
The music persists,
carrying fragments of hope and resignation.
A threshold discovered, not crossed,
where presence is a gentle hum.
Here in the quiet, the song lingers—
not a cure, but a balm,
leaving you peacefully, comfortably numb.
As the ethereal guitar mesmerises
My soul responds
As if I dipped into a melodic bath
Of perfectly curated
Lovingly tempered
Heart massaging
Candle flickering
Water
A fragrant tune invades
My nostrils
Flaring as the warm
Moistened air tumbles by
The world merges into
Perfection
Harmony
Stirring
The resonance
Of childhood memory
Percolating through the mist
As sliding strings
Caress my ears
My mind drifting
Towards that past
Safer place
Yet this mesmerising medication
This tuneful tumult quelling
Perfect prescription
Is deeply welcome
Somewhere in my gut
My true being
Soothed as we surrender
To this soulful sabbath
May you never grow old
At the joyful table
Where your soul dines
Hear the whispers
Of the small pleasures
Taste the fermented flavours
Of the ordinary delights
Using all your available senses
When the music plays
To transport you
Run to catch the moment
Soak in the vapour
Embibe the elixir
Breathe it all in deeply
Holding in gratitude
Each heavenly moment
("Gravity's Rainbow", 2017, original encaustic)
The Endless River Flows
Everywhere sheep being led to slaughter
Everywhere the innocent seduced
Everywhere someone crying
While another looking up
Into open skies
As unspoken questions arise unbidden
These are the times of change and revelation
As demons are given form
To be confronted
As closets empty into streets
Overflowing
With the blessing of abundant matter
As everyone struggles to find what matters
Everyone, tempted at least,
To make manifest
Their wildest dream or
Darkest fantasy
Or secret wish of beauty
Who are you if not me
And me you
One for all and all for one
Even when we remain clueless
As those with vision
See and speak, chant and whirl
Have you ever wondered how, where, why
Mobius came up with his infinite strip
Or Escher his simultaneously
Ascending descending stairs
Giving us a path
For endless fervent pacing
Have you ever wondered why we dream
And how we can do it so well
Making worlds more vivid
Than the ones we don’t
Have you ever loved
Without reason
Without direction
Without any sense
Of accomplishing
(10/24/23)
PS Friends,
We all know some of the greatest poetry is in popular songs. Some of my inspiration comes from music. So I thought I would share this wonderful write by Pink Floyd. Find it on U Tube and ENJOY!
So,
So you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell?
Blue skies from pain?
Can you tell a green field
From a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
Did they get you to trade
Your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
Did you exchange
A walk on part in the war
For a lead role in a cage?
How I wish
How I wish you were here
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl
Year after year
Running over the same old ground
What have we found?
The same old fears
Wish you were here
the needle pushes in her face
a kiss and the wall scratches
higher naked searching cracks
for an exit you scream soldiers
planes flash back and forth flying
a room fills with angry anxious
voices shadows growing tall
corpses rise flowers swallow
space white crosses over graves
praying mantis mothers explode
down the endless fluorescent
hall your lifted into the
long black limo ripping worms
from your face
For millions of years mankind lived just like the animals.
Then something happened which unleashed the power of our imagination.
We learned to talk.
These are the words spoken by Stephen Hawking on Pink Floyd's track Keep Talking
from the Album - Division Bell from 1994.
Is it not a sad indictment on us humans, that we were graced with the cleverist of
intellegence,
yet we can hardly use it.
I wrote a poem today called Gorillini, and this is the last two lines:-
We are barely their servants
The real King of the primates
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