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Into a new dark age
we go, marching,
careening headlong

[of soapbox poetry
there is no want
for many a voice
loudly rail and rant]

the terrain of our
condition and that
of our experience
has changed over
year upon year of
progress that has brought
us closer to the edge
of a generation that
lives on the horizon

itself

peering further ...

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Well hello my poetic brethren.

 The time has come for yet more spewings from the mind to be shared amongst you. This time I have been partially inspired by a book I'm reading at the moment and partially by a dream I had. I'm pretty sure the two were linked anyway. So let me whisk you friends into the mystical world of Sands.

Sands

Vision blurred as focus regains
dream...

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Z, is it merely a typo for X,

a phone pushed too hard

or misplaced fingers on qwerty keyboard?

Or does Z mean sleep tight?

Alas I can never sleep as tight

as when I finally hold you in my arms

and wake to sunshine even in a perilous Pennine Autumn.

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Just get over it,

Casual, callous, colloquial.

But love is like an amnesiac's boomerang

just when you thing you've forgotten

the love, and the pain

it swoops like a dragon

whose scales scar sentiments.

It usually hits you,

and even if caught,

it caught you by surprise.

Those who once captured your heart

now hold your heart captive.

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