Space

My inner space so when did you appear
Intruder uninvited on my plane
For lonely gripped my fingers in your sphere
Your angle’s not conducive to my aim
A vacuum mother nature does abhor
But I am not your mother little boy
And you plus me’s not what my line is for
So I’ll divide and leave remainder joy
Subtracting you negates the need to cry
The algebra of love’s insanity
My x will never equal, don’t ask why
We shoud not meet until infinity
An integer still single in my prime
What matters is I have my space in time

Words

I stumbled over words and grazed my heart
I thought I saw the truth within a rhyme
But writers can’t trusted for their art
Is just to sweeten cheap and hackneyed line
Comparison to summer’s day is trite
And music often feeds the love we lost
I think that love requires a second sight
And rides that fall are rarely worth the cost
Remember love’s a verb a doing word
It’s not a state that we recover from
A writer’s actions should seen not heard
And love is not three minutes in a song
Unbreak my heart for it is carved in wood
If words are all you have then you’re no good

The Journeyman

A wander through the backwater that day
A fly was hooked and baited on the line
The listener who had so much to say
And talked as if they owned the whole of time
Seduction of the mind a subtle art
The conversation lingered in the air
The mind is often route to find the heart
The thoughts are planted left to blossom there
The ripples of the mind that mark depart
For backwaters are places few would choose
The culmination so close after start
But what is gained we never truly lose
A chance encounter brief and bitter sweet
A journeyman will leave after the meet 

Hug, With Caution

The drain of your emotion seems to leave me less than whole
The fear I can’t assuage the grief another human feels
Your loneliness and heartache seem to permeate my soul
I start and stop and flounder indecision at my heels
So private and so rapt within the world I fabricate
My hesitation hints at things I don’t wish to reveal
I shouldn’t trust the sense that I cannot alleviate
Could I possess the special powers to make your hurting heal
My caution is so tangible when you reach out for me
Imprisoned I would hide behind my own hermetic seal
Reality it overwhelms and I can often be
Unable to communicate the way you make me feel
I’ll hold you in my arms a while until you feel quite safe
And if that works we both will find our world’s a better place

Nowhere Left

He’s talking to himself he doesn’t cease
The manic man won’t look at others much
The voices in his head shape his belief
He’s bad and must deny the human touch
Reality it died some years ago
Was forced to leave his children and his wife
He’s not all right but nowhere left to go
Delusion has usurped his other life
His paranoia nothing but despair
The voices have such difficult demands
They see contamination everywhere
The hundred times that he must wash his hands
No longer sure what’s real and what is not
But voices are the only thing he’s got

Condensed

Every morning coffee brewed at dawn
Always makes it just the way he likes
Then she goes to market every morn
Small old woman sits on big old bike
Sons she carried three and one survives
Lives with her in tiny wooden shack
Doesn’t think of other people’s lives
Much they have why dwell on what they lack
Family and food define her day
Cooking cleaning helping only son
Coffee sweet with milk his favourite way
Everyday her work for him is done
Love for three condensed to single man
Mother’s love as sweet as milk in can