Politer to fruit
In the name, of a toil's box
Sat by order's river, the irony we suit
To possess a stilled eye, which has savored not

Run, fool, run
Sown notice, of a quiet in the din
Of the jungle, we notice the hope of cunning
To save a charging guidance to what we have, for sin

Win, tool, win
Lead since, fed genius
Is a harboring cold, the driven nature of meant?
In the dim eye's I forgave, many tears come to season

Sun, who'll, sun
Avid in heat we prophecy, is a need's shame
Poised to entail all, the voice of method's begun
To make a wish in open seem, the order to a name

Sin, cool, sin
Token treasure, thunder in the east
So willed, for a moment to understand again
Looking for a chosen one, that we lost at a feast

Gun, soul, gun
Driven by horror and the beauty of childhood
Where a blind friendship with only a smile sung
Has come and gone anew, like a heart of would...

Halt and salt, why do you insist?
Savage as a paradise with a missing child can be...
A sign of the times, a sovereignty to ask, is a glue this...?
Miracles in a guilty eye, are we that we are, kindred's anarchy?

One leg Anne
crutched herself
to the window

and stared out at the rain
Look at the ******* weather
she said

she let go
of the handle
of one crutch

and scratched her thigh
you stood just behind her
watching her standing there

like a dejected Napoleon
What do you think
they’d say if I got you

to push me out
in the wheelchair
in this Skinny Boy?

she said
looking at you
over her shoulder

They wouldn’t allow it
you replied moving up
beside her

and peering out
at the rain
on the lawn and trees

I don’t give a donkey’s tail
what they’d allow
she said

being politer
than she usually was
Why do you want

to go out in the rain?
you asked
Because I hate

being shut up
in my room
or being pushed

around the corridors
like fecking Guy Fawkes
she crutched herself

away from the window
Come on Skinny Boy
let’s venture out

But we’ll get wet
you said following her
out of the room

Hush do you want
the grown ups
to know our plans of escape?

you stood beside her
by the backdoor
your eyes watched

the rain falling on
the path outside
Bring me a wheelchair

Skiing Boy
we’re going to explore
you went to the store room

and pushed a wheelchair
to where she stood
and she sat down

and gave you
the crutches
Right off we go

she said
and you opened
the door

and wheeled her out
the raindrops
pattering on

and around you both
and she bellowed
Go go

on on
and so you pushed
and the rain fell

and she laughed
and opened her arms
and her hands

and said
This is living Boy
better to live

and be wet
than dry indoors
and dead.

Do I inspire or am I dire?
Amusing or just boring.
Oh humph you say and turn away
Good gracius, are you snoring?
I really thought that you would have
a little understanding-but all you say is go away
and don't be so demanding!
If that's the case old funny face,
there will be no nights of passion,
until your churlish ways improve
in a politer fashion!

Light
In the valley of voice
Many curious mystery's, move to sight
When a dim exception knows me, for quietness's choice...

Handsome?
And a solemn chaste
Seen by any, who would make quiet come
The pyre of reason, steadied by rational haste

Fastidiousness?
A friend of composure
With an early eye for what quiet bless
The very hour of simply, a heart's distress to cure

Rancor?
A hint of problems, beyond life's reach
That seem, given notice; are a politer war...
With succor's pride, known for a pining's cease

Worship?
As if, courage has a lover...
Couth, do we own love's shadow, lip
Quiet as the proverbial church mouse, meanwhile, is one to cover...

Light?
With energy, came the query of control
Spare, anarchy, or might
Shadow's seem to be, a time with love's whole?

Show me all and done
With meat and honey
Burdens come
Sing, look for me when it's money

Silhouette, silhouette
I have a stone for you
Trade skill for time lent
When milk has seen could

Party's of commotion
Come home for stature
See the he, see the compromise of heathen
Where the cope of lip's, is such a per...?

Come
The lingering words
To take a turn to heed, some
We will give the bird...?

Fate in a hand held
By the rue, the cooling, the would
In a guarantee for what is ours, even well...
The image of youth, is still a politer world

Politer than you
Asking the been and bitter
To wish in open argument, a claim of due
Is a recent pace of better need, than a call to utter

Utter a finish to the time of treasured sight
Of a friend first, still chaste, but knowing wine
With a response to integrity, and the future we might
A resolve for terror, that took and mused of harmony inclined

A scare of tin and thought diamonds
True to a tilling day, will see ourselves, jealous and weary
Of a new vanity in the mercy's we made, for a callous hinds
A stoic reply I meant, and defend to its driven mind, a sharing...

House with a duress in hand and with a careful eye to excuse
Came with a potency that is our finding hope, the hello of knots
That come and go, with a realm to its touch, if not hatred to lose
A hair of simplicity for a better last, the tone of a voice hidden to ought

Shrewd acts and dependent facts, in the lime
Sports of comment and dispose, in the name of worthier few
Forces of compromise with a shallower tongue, than a thought for time
The waters we see, are but a fearing nod to sensation with one more due

Allow me a promise, and I will commit distance to memory
Mind the heat of when, the stir of vice will become an arm of patience
**** the miracle or presence of more, and the guile I show for entice
Will become the temptation of another body, of what is our care, for ages

Terror, found with a passion in the rhyme of a sated means, while
The order of conscience and its heed, burns
With all and most, to serve the ideal of control and love, still the style
Of a friends voice, is the praise of essence, a world on the verge of what earns?

samuel johnson comes across to me
as somewhat nicer
than dickens, although I daresay johnson
could be ruder
and dickens
was no doubt politer     ..