Love and Hate

When the wind runs
through the fingers,
when the sand is kicked up far,
when the night of
endless whispers
and the days of dreamy stars,
wither out with but no trace
from the steely hate of gaze
and the broken empty pot of heart,
cries out with bridled rage.

When the mask in man is torn,
and the weight of life is borne,
when the people keep on stealing
thoughts undeserved and out of tone,
when the flowers rust in peace,
in the falling might of trees
and an endless screaming wail
hits home
in a leaden hollow wheeze...

Will this throbbing ever stop?
In the vacant sea of hearts?
Will the winter wind turn green
rush as the summer brushes clean?
Will the spiders of our past
clean out the cobwebs off the lost?

Will the winter wind turn green, rush as the summer brushes clean?

I just want to know. Why?

Saturday Morning Blues..

I jumped, tearing my way
through the listless wind
played with self-made cars
of paint and empty bottles

I rode, up to the sky
in a neon lit wheel
gazed at street performers
at village festivals

Ignorance was bliss, and desires low,
the days were lively and nights mellow
for me I lived, for me I breathed
is there in life a reverse gear...

I ran, heart in hand
just to reach the line
street cricket was all
and Blyton kept me fine

I found solace in books
and a hand for art
wrote comics and dreamed
of a life forgot

The things that I dreamed, the life that I sought
I cycled in rain and I laughed aloud
a King in my world, a crown of my own
is there in life a reverse gear...

I live, for the times
I live the dream of my Pa's
my old comics locked up
and memories lost
for with time does fade
all the haunting past
is there in life a reverse gear...?