Weeping

he wept.

alone.

he wept for hilarious coincidences.

he wept for hearts torn out, trampled upon, and set alight by forces of indifference.

he wept for the lonely.

he wept for those creatures like himself, tucked in their rooms high on solitude, feeling bereft, achingly longing for something more.

someone more.

he wept.

he wept for dried and shrivelled daffodils.

he wept listening to ‘this charming man’.

he wept for the spongy lines.

he wept for the dialogue, insufferably banal and boring as can be.

he wept for them.

he wept for the muddied, soaked, fractured, throbbing, rehearsed pulses of conversational sub-genres.

he wept for himself.

he wept for his narcissism, egomaniacal, puffed up and bloated on hubris.

he wept. i wept.

he wept for us all.

i still weep.

Your Love

sipping from your bounteous chalice,

nectar, sustenance,

imbibing tender love,

warmth,

passion,

desire,

thirsting for more,

of you,

hungry, needy,

transcending this life,

all these cardboard smiles on parade,

this mock shambolic frigid charade,

thirsting for more,

of you,

here,

now,

for within my being, your love is a beach of solace,

as gentle as the tides kissing the shore,

for you, are my all,

you are hewn into my very core.

hope at dawn

Burnished by the copper sun,

countless petals fade,

as another day is done.

Petals lulled to rest,

as am I, assured,

that the morning dew is due to come,

invigorating life,

and for fleeting moments,

banishing all strife.