After the shipwreck,

We drift through calm seas:

Together.

Another storm...

The sky rages

The sea erupts

We’re torn apart,

Struggling against the waves

To get back to safety
  
And each other.

The storms come more frequently of late.

Each time

We drift further apart.

I fear  

The next storm

We may drown

Maybe it’s a story

Everything

The creative of beautiful things

Some were not sure:

Eh?

Wot that mean?

Ich wiess nicht Vater

Finally,

I had to agree:

Tiefe frage für einen montagmorgen

( deep question for a Monday morning)

For days he had searched for the words, but they would not come

He shouted, ‘Stop mocking me gods, you have had your fun!’

Another sleepless night and the day was here

As the class grew nearer so did the fear

And then he realised the route he had to go

Steal or borrow, no one will ever know

That evening he beamed as he read the stolen creation

And when he finished, he smiled and waited for their adulation

But all he heard was….

‘Oy you ****, I wrote that!!’ as he was swiftly thumped in the face

In my dream

They stole

My soul

When I awoke

I was broken

And alone

Drowning in the Sea of Freedom.

A citizen of nowhere to go

And nothing to do.

Hanging out with Bukowski

And drinking tea.

I should spend more days like this.

In my dream

They stole

My Sole.

When I awoke

I had blisters.

I can’t remember when it started again
But I no longer remember how to smile.

I’ve forgotten the taste of a good meal,
the joy of the morning breeze,
the feeling of waking up with purpose.

I walk, but I have no direction,
I sail, with no wind behind me,
I drive, but my tank is empty,
I run, but I wear bricks for shoes.

There is nothing to console me now,
no road I can walk,
no path I can take
               I am lost
               I am changed
               I am...     gone