Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash

Sky and sea and land, three old amigos,
overlap like love and hate and fate, but then……… the dreadful daylight starts of unkept promises and broken hearts….god’s dying to fix you up, y’know….but, unfortunately, those damned gombeen men conspire to extinguish every ounce of youth and beauty in poor folk, whether in this life or in some dreamy city of the sultry south, where word of mouth only carries a smidgen of meaning, that’s as far as it goes: no proof allowed, fingers, feet or toes? She points at fragrances, shatters glass ceilings….catches scents of musk in roman de la rose…at the close of business. Yes, the claims of ‘civilization’ have proved illusory — to me — as long as there’s money to be made in trade in babies, food, body parts, slaves; human trafficking robs us all of heart 
there’s no comfort to be had in knowing this; only a few people really do have dark black evil eyes hidden deep inside themselves, most you cannot spot, there are so many copy cat killers around these days.
I rap the walls with bleeding knuckles
there are no stars left in the sky…and nobody listens …time drifts by .
tears can sometimes become stars, i know,
when the weeping of the poor truly enters our hearts, there is sorrow in times of separation
yet tomorrow is buried deep in the hearts of the people. who dream of gaps in the brutal determinations of life.
So, can we spend time in a rain of flowers, in not contemplating holocausts? Only the daffodils’ bulbs know and they are securely hidden from the cold and frost
futures are bent, twisted, bruised, lost and very rarely the sweet heart of this sad sweet song is music to all of our broken souls….