That night I told you to find your own ride home
because I had better plans.
Plans that didn’t involve driving you back
after the high school dance

I wish I had taken you home.
We would’ve slipped off our shoes and laid across the bed.
When you opened your phone
to read the texts that burned your eyes,
I would’ve held your hand.

Even though you slide on a pretty dress,
and squeeze into a pair of heels,
bad news still slides it’s way down cheeks
carrying dark lines of mascara.

Tears don’t mean anything,
it’s the silence that stings.
The same silence that wrapped around
her neck ropes under your bedroom door,
slipping through pink glossed lips,
until you can’t breathe anymore.

Earlier that night we danced together
when your feet were still light as air.
Later on you found your own way home,
and lay wide awake, different from before.

Well great goodness, where on Earth do I start?
The Garden of Eden  … or the bottom of my heart?

How can I make this as honest and heartfelt as I can?
How would I share with every woman in the world, the emotions of every man?

Yes, we hold them in. It's about pride. It's about standing tough.
But you'd really not have us any other way … you love to polish what's rough.

And we really love you, make no mistake, to you we are forever beholden.
We'll not forget those meals and those band aides and all those clothes gently folden.

You taught us to tie our shoes and look after our sisters and brothers.
And that unless we are standing for something correct, we must always be kind to others.

From you we learned that women are our partners, other halves and mothers-to-be.
Which leads my poem in another direction … as I continue my praises with glee.

Our wives took up where our mothers left off and carry our hearts in their hands.
They made us soup when sick, bore us amazing children and walked beside us in the sand.

They undressed us when drunk, both for fun and when it was needed.
And stood understanding when we failed miserably, as their warnings went blindly unheeded.

No matter our place in failure, glory or fame, they were always standing by our side.
No matter our outfit, five o'clock shadow, even our beer belly …
they always stand there with pride.

And in the brave new age, where we all live, they now do things so amazing.
They race cars, cure diseases, head up companies and set many trails a blazing!

What would we do without these women from our birth to our end of days?
How do we love them, now and forever?
You simply can't count the ways!

If you were to speak to me in the light of day,
my poems would never look the same

Here we reveal our sadness and rage
Because in real life we're puppets on a stage

This is why all poets are exactly the same
we are all actors, exposed by a blank page.

I sat amidst the roar and the clatter.
The baby cats were busy siphoning their mother.
Six I recall; six they were.
Each puncturing through mama's wells.
I sat bewildered.Staring without mere blink.
I sat and watched.

The ******* male cat entered
And domineering swalted to the seat.
Pushing forth the feeding babes.
One dropped and fell.
He acted as though drunk.
Maybe he just copy pasted my dad.
I don't know.

But mother cat arose with protest.
I could see her lips move.
Same as mother mine.
In defence of us from father's blows.
But the towering figurine owned strength.
One blow drew blood from mama's cheeks.
His claws had sufficiently worked.

She lay down on the seat.
Quiet yet submissive.
But was it really submission.
Mebelieved it thence a usurp plot.
For when the male turned to jinx the victory dance.
Her teeth dived into his protruding *******
Shriek shriek shriek none let go.

The monster was being monstered.
Brute had met science.
He shrieked upon the divan seats.
Prowling the children upon the floor.
One hit his head badly, never to meow again.
It was thence that she came clean.
Her silver lips orchre red.

One hurl accompanied his shrieks outside.
One jump sealed his accuintance.
He was gone as he came; violently.
Mother cat bent to sniff on her traveller babe.
Dew formed upon her severed cheek.
I cried too.
And mother watching from the corner of her newspaper.
Stammered under her breath.
"This marijuana will bewilden you."

spinning colours.
flashing lights.
pounding music.
rooms too bright.

tucked away amidst the dawn,
he took a drag on Mary Jane,
coating her in liquor rain,
as he thought of thought of lustful times forgone.

he sat the pill right on his tongue,
and watched it melt away.
he closed his eyes and swallowed vulgarly,
for there was no time to be a saint this day.

he hid within an acid storm.
and his promises were holy,
when he watched the load drip down slowly.
for the psychedelic pleasure held him warm.

I can't seem to find a job,
Which really isn't rare,
But all I want is some stable income,
Enough so I can prepare,

Prepare for when I feel like treating my friends,
Or enough to pay off debts,
I don't want to get stuck in a vicious circle,
Of loan and repay and repent.

It seems that now living costs money,
A smiles a pound a minute
Using those pounds to pay for lottery tickets,
Though we know we'll never win it.

A world of money grabbing scoundrels,
That's how this economy works,
They'll swipe your wallet out your pocket,
And leave you in the dirt.

It's absolutely ridiculous,
It's barmy, it's mad,
Everyone's obsessed with ten pound notes,
Designer clothes and fads.

No one thinks to change the way they're living,
No one wants to be free,
From the people with small minds,
And the rules of a society.

No one thinks about a friendly face,
That is worth more than credit cards,
Cause money won't pick you up,
When your life is in shards.

I can't seem to find a job,
But I don't think I care,
Cause I'm rich in family, Friends and laughter,
And for that there is no fare.