Friday, September 9, 2011

the banks of the river

the banks of the river were here
before you and I

before the courtship and the romance
before the anger and the jealousy

before it became mother of nations
or place of solitude

before anything needed the shade
of the old oak

before blood was spilt
and wars were won

before we lay in the grass
among the dandelions

and the banks of the river will be here
after us

with not so much as a footprint
in the mud

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Shades of Blue

Down the street is a crescent moon.
A purple dawn approaches.

The sirens wail in the distance
while the birds sing close by.

I lay down
to relax.

And the sheets turn damp
with our love.

Yet I'm still not sure,

If you're here,
ever have been
or ever will be.

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Easter Sunday

Staring out at the Thames
flowing with Pale Ale
the sky dips to orange

And the birds
swoop, float and idle
on air

Unaware of the
financial difficulty
relationship drama

and the rock and roll
the rest of us deal with

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

floral underground

I saw a girl in the Metro
waiting for the 10 towards Austerlitz
she wore headphones and floral skirt

a bouquet of roses
stuck out of the trash can

she saw the flowers
and moved closer

she picked the petals, one at a time
she tossed them into the air
and they floated to the floor

she dropped them onto the tracks
a curious smile on her face
mice crawled and nibbled
at the velvety edges

the train came
its arrival softened
by the blood red roses

we boarded the train
she picked up a crumpled newspaper
and read the news of the day

but I don't think she cared

Friday, August 20, 2010

summers gone

The CozmikGangsta has been grindin'. Hard. The summer rush has been hot and fast. Time entered some sort of strange dimension where evenings linger, seeming timeless yet end all too soon.

Our hero has been robotic in a sense, at times defying his natural rhythms in pursuit of something greater, perhaps intangible. While filling your head and heart with floaty love poems, he's been on some real ninja shit, running missions, rendezvous and international conversations through the breaking dawn.

Things may be taking shape in a distant land as the battle between the rooted and the rootless rages on. While new alliances have been made, how long can our hero blast through the galaxy? Until his sword dulls, photon blasts run out and hyper-speed won't engage. Though weary at times, our hero's tactics seem to be working

Back with more Word soon.

Check out what the Crew has been up to: Lila - II

Monday, June 21, 2010

Pretty Girl in the Train Station

you wear their blue uniform
but you're not one of them
no, you smile deeply
you giggle innocently
you're happy to see me when I arrive
the way you bat your eyes tells me so

you open doors
point me in the right direction
I like the train station
when you're there
we are on the same team
me and you
us against the world
against bureaucracy
against tyranny
fighting for everything
that's right and beautiful

I see the way you whisper
to your friends
when I turn my back
you can tell me
no secrets

I want to get lost
so you can give me direction

Saturday, May 29, 2010

an exploration

I had just left Old Town
to walk up a great forested hill
when the rain came

I ducked into an ancient library
but the deluge lasted 
the length of a cigarette
so I left the stacks of wisdom
and the grey overhead gave way 
to electric blue 

through the canopy 
and beyond the waterfalls
past an ancient warrior ground
I saw a sign that said Magical Cavern
so naturally I followed it

at the top of the hill
was a gathering of folk
but they knew nothing of the cave

they began to talk
and suddenly with my arrival 
were questioning everything
they thought they knew

there was a soft righteous sound 
and A Whiter Shade of Pale 
drifted down the hill

but it was the Michael Bolton version
and the Magic Cave was a gift shop
so I descended