Janus

When we were young

we raged against the storm

biting at our hormones,

engulfing our senses

and our sensibilities.

The deep penetrating

oxblood on our

Doctor Martin boots

polished

to an indignant sheen.

Pre-conditioner hair,

split ends and acne,

Shredded Wheat moustache.

A groove worn on the chin

by pondering fingers.

Myopic ...

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~~In The Beginning

leaving marks
that’s all we’re doing
leaving marks

daubed on cave walls
scratched on parchment
prodded into submission
on a plastic keyboard

blood ink
drying
becoming permanent

or
crossed through
with a graphite swipe
erased by rubber
white paint
lost

ideas and musings
bold statements
of intent
waxing lyrical
outpourings
of joy
of hate
of love
...

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