Roadrunner

Roadrunner, sprinting off down the beaten track, dirt flying
mixing earth with air,
a smashing of bright colours in a red land.
With a red sun, and a red light.
Alive.

Racing between the canyons, nature’s bullet, blinding speed
no limits, no thoughts
scarring the vibrancy of the crushed earth
under the brilliance of the mid-day light.
Free.

Always running, never resting, never thinking, never feeling, never knowing
a life of ignorant tranquillity.
Dusk breathes its blue smudges, relaxing the angry desert
shadows lengthen and the rocks breathe a sigh of relief.
Mortal.

The end of the day, still roadrunner runs on.
The moon acknowledges his task by throwing beautiful rays across the night sky.
The path ahead is growing short, but there is no fear.
For in life there are no regrets for the roadrunner.
Peace.

Bad News

Hundreds of salt-less tears
Running, rolling
Tripping, falling
Down my window pane.

They blur my bedroom’s eye
Speckle the light
Which tries in vain
To warm the inside walls.

When the sun is concealed
The white darkens
And the room is left damp grey,
Within I’m drowning dry,

Under the weight of bad news .
My mind is alone;
While my body slowly breathes,
I suffocate inside.

1462

Death is unstoppable-
It never fails to free
-Controlling passion for us now
It will never be seen

The long and slow dread
Death is so wrong,-
But conveys so much power
Unforgettable

Silent but deadly
It creeps through the air
Controlling our minds
Messing up our hair

Death is now near
Approaching within our souls
It tends to be forgotten
But is never lost

The Death of Hope

Death, the burst of a balloon
What’s left fragments of gloom
Like ash they fall from the sky
From where meanings mean nigh.

We sweep the pile
Dust that was once hope
Now turned aggressively vile
Like the stench of dead antelope.

Beyond, gone from our grasp
Unreachable, yet so close
It taunts while we gasp
For what causes these woes.

I still awake every night
Memories of those days
Unable to rid them
Due to their powerful ways.

The pass over

Breaking roots, creaking leather-realisation-
-sticky- confident siblings smiles
Who’ve been there, done that -a brighter light-
leaves laughing,gravel doles.

the road ahead-good or bad-
shady fuzz, popping air-closing door-
secret contours-fake to the object-
sweet yet sour, fear

the openness of mind-if only-
thoughts, overpowering,
-vinegar- assembled -spiteful-
yet waiting.

Won’t be long

Rain swoops down upon the hearth,
Smoke – it fills the room,
Rain, it smarts like icy knives,
Smoke - breath stopped short.

The trees grow green and Bright –
a luminescent glow,
but smoke still hovers – mingles
air and breath still slow.

Walk along that sodden path
Dotted with birds and bees –
No mental torment they have suffered
But I – breath still without ease.

Thick black clouds of pain and grief,
They coarse and throb my mind
Weight – a burden and oppression –
Won’t be long. It won’t.

Something called

Something called
Robin fly – little wing -
Not fast enough.
Berries frozen green, Grey
not white – white
not blue -

A cold warm
Heated cold –
Blinded –
Confused air -
No air – just nothing
Blinded remember.

Odd they look
Bare - no skin
No Christ - no mass
Something called winter ‘Wonderland’

No wonder
Just land – just land
Desolate. Blank.