Running On Empty
I am spent, like an empty purse collecting fluff and a handful of coppers jangling at the bottom of a tin money box, resonating with the echo of love.
I am spent, like the hollow pockets of the indulgent parent at a family theme park, when the gates are shut and the children clamour on the temporary highs of sugar induced endorphins.
I am spent, like the beggar on the streets of self-induced debt, under the watchful eye of his adjudicator, demanding he repay all he owes with interest.
I have no more to give and yet I must give more. I need time and energy to recharge my failing battery and yet I must go on... I am spent.

The Measure of Me
You look at me expectantly as you pontificate
on the memories of your past,
Piecing together a well-cut jigsaw of years and dates.
You punctuate your impromptu monologue
with unspoken question marks.
But my memories are unlabelled photographs:
Freeze-framed stills and colourful silent movies.
The soundtrack runs separately
like a poorly dubbed foreign film
and I squirm uncomfortably as I fail to recall
a single significant date.
Yet I cannot feel less for the lack of accuracy.
My #life is my present -
A gift to be enjoyed, discarded, forgotten
and picked up again with new-found rapture
Each and every day.
My past has moulded me, through action
and emotion, to the woman I am today.
The mother I try, fail and aspire to be
Each and every day.
My past has made me who I am but
It is my present which is the measure of me.
Dates and times belong in the history books.
My #life belongs to me.

OF FIRE Well before zero does the heart melt It doesn't take a summers day For the lovers to come and play For tonight my passion is molten All reservation but charred remains She,is the spark to my flames All elements fuse like alchemical alloy Bodies entwined in ecstasy Hot fluid and free

VOLCANITE NIGHTS Underneath the surface The molten swirls Looking for the opening To flash it's fiery tail A moment of passion Cracks through the surface It's thunderous rapture No heart is safe The beauty of destruction Fire has but one vice Deep it's ecstatic cries The soul gives its #life Upon the molten shores I lay Nothing but burnt remains Her naked silhouette#moonshines And the molten swirls my veins

Lost Advice


The dead might tell us many things
But living ears hear nought
Save that which may bear fruit
Or some spiteful tittle tattle
But true life learned wisdom
Cannot be passed by lifeless lips
Save those scant pearls left in print
And stored upon dust filled shelves
Untouched and buckled
And more's the pity for it
The living must tread with care
During these treacherous times
While the wisdom of those passed
Festers into maybes and might nots
That truth stands we somehow choose
Blind eyes turned away in fearful bliss
In hope that some other ears might heed
To save us as we bow before our media gods
While the pleas of a dying planet
Fall as tears upon a parched ground
Our gods now shun their barren altars
As those that passed scream in urgent chorus
To waken us from our pantomime

... before it is too late

#words