Narcissus In The Age Of Plastic

Beauty is skin deep

Layers of paint and plastic

Daubed with unsteady hands

Glance in the mirror

see the full bee-sting lips pout

and fake eye lashes

the tattooed eyebrows

filler in the crows-feet cracks

tell-tale nip and tuck

Nemesis smiles and

Avenges fading Echoes

Of a youth gone wild

When you are old...

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Is There, In Truth, No Beauty

I am the dry path

Sat between

The first rain drops

I am the dandelion

Dancing in a field

Missed by the scythe

I am the spark

That jumps

From flint to straw

I am the breaking wave

Crashing up against

Deserted beaches

I am the words

Caught in the throat

Of dirty liars

I am the light

Crawlin...

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Daily Howl

A quiet boy -

he painted rainbows,

got lost in the words

of ancient poets,

spoke with respect,

offered up his seat

and his place in the world

to the unfortunates.

He smiled,

he laughed,

he spoke in words

of love and peace

with passion

and humility.

His voice

a pacifier.

Sometimes,

when the world was cruel,

he cried

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His Blue Period.

Her breath smells of the peppermint
tea, that we had drunk earlier,
when I tilt her chin to the light
on this late summer afternoon.

She smiles and her eyes come alight
with warmth that breathes into the room
from the open patio doors
that lead out into the garden.

I paid earlier, as we talked
and she said she could only stay
for two hours as she had to go
and pi...

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