And what would I know of love? 

The merry-go-round creaks, but it isn't broken.

I hold on, white-knuckled, in the wind.

The world spins, a blur of lights and shadows. 
 

Each revolution brings a promise of love.

I grip the bars, painted horses rise and fall, 

neighing and braying at what love could be.

Faces flash past, smiles, laughter, tears, 

the carousel of emot...

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Under the golden boughs of ancient trees, autumn sighs,  
As leaves descend in a swirling, endless ballet,  
The earth receives them with a gentle embrace,
withering compost pile.
 

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That hamlet where mum's lineage dwells,
Ancestral ruins, where silence swells.
Foundation stumps, a faint design,
A phenomenon strange, yet mine.

History breathes in broken stone,
Family lore in whispers grown.
Sights and sounds, scents of old,
Stories in these ruins unfold.

But in this decay, a shadow's cast,
A reminder of life that cannot last.
Bulldozed, ground, swept away,
...

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long, top down drives

even shirtless tans

sweet strawberry kisses and

glorious watermelon stains

laughter lifting through the trees

glimpses of sun blest promises

sugar coated whispers

catching in the breeze

fruit bowls, waterholes

and refreshing icy poles

interlacing fingers share

starry nights and lazy days

_ __ ___ ✏

●○

°

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from the ground

the ceiling looks so much wider

from the ground

its cracks seem much finer

the paint peels -

minute flags, off-white surrender;

the paint peals -

egg shells of heavy footed plunder...

revelation fall free

on this soul that has been bound

revelation fall free,

release this pretender from the ground

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Fourteen billion ears and not a pair to listen Fourteen billion eyes Ignore the running captions Seven billion tongues Wag 24/7 on worldwide web Still, bosoms burn and burst Ne'er a lack of words to display Keyboard fingers clenching: Cacophonous asphyxiation.

_____________________wsd_________ ✴The Wimpole Street Devils✴ words, words, words, you'd get sick of words from them...

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Back in the day it was horrible to make a public spectacle of oneself. But these days we've outdone ourselves - and though we march to our own drums more than ever before - we do so "in your face,' snapchatting, webcamming, wickrdly off: and that can be a never ending disgrace!

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