the Hello Poetry portrait gallery
is becoming full of empty frames
what individuals had a hand
in these harassment games

we've been deprived of many
talented written contributions
the villainous mob most adroit
with their unwarranted executions

blank boxes tell of an almighty
mischief being awfully made
by they who are wanting
to garner every accolade

under a serious threat our
fraternity of poets are thus far
and of seeing unfilled cubes
there leaves a permanent scar

Somewhere behind me

There may still be monsters accidentally existing

I have no time for their ghosts or membrane mutiny

Somewhere a childish criminal collects clarity blissfully sidetracked

Simple secrets now subjected to an expiration date

A jar cluttered with light may illuminate its conclusion

Hums fall with clicks inside glass contaminates

Class refrained curiosity made these spaces empty

Peripheral pimps take my scenes for nonsensical renditions

Ticks in the skull while empathy ponders panic

A familiar echo for the susceptible
A time bomb mistaken for clockwork

Helium hideaways complicate an otherwise profound articulation

They fall separately

While defunct damsels capture blue bliss on virtual timelines

It's not real
Light speed fleeting

Grasp the grips for your short sighted ******

Do these chalklines suggest hesitation?

What flaw shall we consider fixation?

Brickwork bygones crumble into memory and highway streams

Falling on fiends lost inside a smokescreen sanctuary

Eyes indefinitely indulging

Porcelain prisms with mindful monsters

Timeline logic lays low for the sake of saner discovery

Downward dazes find hands like phases

No correct callous in sight

People will say that they've fallen in love
But I'm a little different from the masses
I tripped over my own two feet
And stumbled my way into your life
And you caught me with your love

Shall I compare thee to a summers day?
     I think not, for the day's end soon approaches as does Summer's demise.
     Shall I compare them to a sparkling diamond?
     Again, I think not, for many diamonds are cut apart to gain their beauty.
     Shall I compare thee to a crescendo of song, reaching its peak?
     Still, I think not, for each and every note may yet still go sour.
     While some may profess these things as perfection, you are indeed perfection in my eyes.
     Now and forever.

The Day, When the only season we know is Summer
The Day, When the only animals we see live in shelters
The Day, When every gust of wind carries the ashes
The Day, When every terrain that was once green now a wasteland
The Day, When every step we take brings us closer to a heatstroke,
The Day, When every vision we have is being robbed by Smoke,
The Day, When Mother Earth stops pleading,

And the eviction notice becomes more than just a warning

Earthquake, Tsunami and Thunder Storms

What’s mine is now Yours, takes a bitter form

Every Day should be Earth Day

So that The Day never comes

on the footpath's grass
a pair of magpies forage
for delicious worms