dreams call on me rarely now

my visitors are mostly regrets

with gifts of grief and remorse

what conscience never forgets

the love I too often spurned

women I so routinely forsook

bad decisions or no decision

benefit from a backward look

yet the past is a willl o' the wisp

easy to install ideal outcomes

where everything's simpler, a

perfect tune hindsight...

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I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you

I didn’t notice I was still running from the past

had blurry vision cause my pace was fast

unable to build anything that lasts

bonding never occurred to me

I was so desperate to be free

running I did, away from the past

now I’m alone

the first will be last

afraid to let you close

cause I might get attached

like with t...

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Shoo, 
go away.

I only want young, thin, pretty girls 
to look my way.

I don't care if they have anything 
intelligent to say.

I just want them to ooh and awe 
at my game. 

Of course I have no shame,
my past is to blame.

Yes, this dance could drive  
the thinker insane.

So, leave with your dignity,
while I toss back another one, 
and twirl my ring. 

# # #

https://yo...

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How I long to sleep tonight
forget these thoughts
and rest
Ease my body free 
of anxiety and worry
but the more I try
the more I fail
I fidget fast, roll in frustration
cursing my debt
and conversations that won't end
Where are those waves of darkness
when will they wash my brain
Where is that tide of sleep
of empty-headedness 
of ignorance
and bliss...

Six hours now
I've studie...

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When they grow up they dress in a new life:

a family of new suits and shirts to wear.

And the ties are new too.

He strides out on his new catwalk

proudly wearing his new self,

blind to the day the cloth may unravel

or fade or lose its style.

What will clothe him then?

I shall not grace his shoulders again:

I am the coat he has outworn

in my pockets are his memories

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I have been having these moments
waiting for trains
pouring kettles
folding sheets
opening a window

I have been having these little moments
flicking through old magazines
in the off-license
glancing up at windows
looking out across the city

When the magnitude of your potential
when all the things you said to me
when the poetry you quietly dedicated
when the soft touch of your deft...

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In The Halls Of The Kingmaker

I touch the rough stone walls,
feeling the room whisper with history.
The open fires cast medieval glows,
while wood smoke threads the tapestries.
Floorboards shiver underfoot,
groaning softly in their dotage
as visitors step gently
in the footsteps of kings.

Up and around
the spiral staircase,
just wide enough
to fit a climbing guest
whose hands
bru...

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