Painting umbrellas in my troubled mind,
While urgent rain cascades like lover's tears,
Pebbled sidewalks lie distorted, in arcane kind,
Rainbowed promises falsely soothe my foolish fears.

Along life's perilous nunatak path I wander,
Sparrows flutter helpless in the freezing rain,
Tragic life with all its perfumed dreams I ponder,
As embattled odes conjure ruthless haste again.

"What now?" Spirits querie with sombre tone,
Golden leaves ashimmer, before autumn's gone,
Far across a cajoling sea in the magpie zone,
Spring lifts its vibrant head, e're summer sings its fragrant song.

Now winter storms through my fervent mind,
Cold ice and snow chill my furrowed brow,
Beyond this frigid realm Jacaranda bloom, in purplish kind,
While raging squalls besiege that soft southern mow.

If tenants rent this mindful space,
If vagrants rove this vacant place,
If drifters tread this tattered grace,
Then umbrage piques this pious case.

Still these seasons forebode a coming reign,
Phantom aurora sweeps across a wavering stage,
Seasoned thoughts inspire thoughtless gain,
Still crass, moonstruck calamities, so calloused, rage.

Beyond that tropic, past Antarctic glacial guild,
Beyond jungle thoughts, that insipid dreams instill,
Beyond parched desert climes, that withered notions build,
I stumble blind and anguished, frosted by love's biting chill.

"But then . . . !" Spirit choirs prompt in unison,
Monstrous, hungry whales breach, an iceberg sea,
Hunting tigers, silent tread, their jungle run,
Vipers masquerade, as branches, on the sacred  tree.

Stepping into a void, where darkness dwells,
Flying into the sun, where mysteries are born,
Like Jonah floundered, by giant ocean swells,
Like Icarus discovering, how array is shorn.

Seasoned elements remain, imprinted on my harried soul,
Spirits embellish nightmare screams, ignite Brimstone's furied horn,
Demons cast rakish shadows, 'cross Hell's abstruse shoal,
Angels clash with frenzied fiends,  hellions, supernatural borne.

So arcane love distorts this wicked reflection,
While lover's cries, rampage with thunderous inflection,
Those ribboned sidewalks, pebbled with  distorted fears,
Promising summer song, astride life's many years.

Hope instills a sacred love,
Faith compels the soul to quest,
Dreaming wisdom from above,
As mercy sends the deep to rest.

Thus in my checkered thoughts and dreams,
Life's joyous glory wanes, or so it seems,
Yet seasoned parks, bathed in divine bluebell flowers,
Wake umbrella memories, of painted rainbow towers.

First fear,
then panic.
Is it just me?
Is it manic?
What?
This race!
What?
This game!
It`s the same,
all this shame.
It`s in your face,
this fucking race.
Revolution at a snails pace.
So retrace.
First fear,
second panic.
It`s in the air,
it isn`t manic.
Some don`t believe,
sense beyond retrieve,
end of the world,
end of the human race,
end of life,
it`s rife,
Creation unfurled,
curses forever hurled.
It`s no disgrace,
this panic race,
with it`s manic face,
sans love or grace.
Whence once this world was new,
fresh, untamed,
now soiled, defamed.
But who knew?
Who knew!
What?
This reckless shame,
where golden mattered,
where diamonds shattered,
where hope drew crowds,
but leisure came at a price,
more than just the cost of rice,
more than fat and flour,
costing more every hour.
Some gluttons feast,
hour after hour,
beyond weeks and months and years,
through decades and centuries,
beyond lifetimes and starving tears,
beyond unpopular manic fears,
all those unhappy years.
Creation sought and fought,
with so many splendid ventures,
as mankind hurried,
throughout the ages,
beyond stealth and phages,
beyond fish in bowls,
and birds in cages,
people ran.
No!
Humankind raced,
while nature graced creation.
The world invested in nation after nation,
feeding fear and panic,
feeding Yuletide manic.
Incredible as it may seem,
from stern to stem,
far across the beam,
every fear was measured,
as the golden was treasured,
as the panic was caged and managed.
Every dream,
every dreamer,
every moment of REM,
every crying child bandaged,
every dark roasted coffee,
sweetened with sugar,
whitened with creamer,
thus fear was sentenced normal,
golden treasure deemed so formal,
so all that stealth and wealth,
horded by that Tower of Power,
incorporated by those tall castle walls,
from whence rich and fame still errantly calls,
broadcasting o`er the wailing fear,
prescribing sugar pills and rainbow trinkets,
settling down the manic panic,
as the world ends,
as creation bends,
as the Creator giggles,
performing perfunctory snuggles,
observing first the fear,
watching then the panic,
balancing first the fear,
controlling then the manic.

Autumn's brilliant moon arises, lights a sombre sky,
On Hallows Eve, while veiled spirits conjure ghosts,
Listen! Rustling leaves, just beyond the garden nigh,
Where wilting flowers fade to brown, amongst their loamy hosts.

October's ego spent, released as coloured leaves,
Jupiter relents, hailing Venus with her haloed gleam,
Afield red fox yips, midst forgotten mold'ring sheaves,
While warrior Mars repents, regrets it's turgid stream.

All Hallows Eve! When phantoms walk the earth,
Mark this time, resolving sin, beyond the border line,
Spectres, adorned in cosmic white, belie their spatial worth,
As man reflects upon that spell, ghosts echo what is thine.

Magic! Mystic charms abound in dead of night,
Charge electric atmosphere, invoked by witches three,
Incantations spoken now, summon forth a demon's might,
Enchanted moonbeams caress the ambience, next to the hanging tree.

Birth and death tussle now, each strive to win the struggle,
Exultant life rebirthing now, commits to clinch the same,
Rejoicing death ravages the way, for each and every muggle,
Lest forthright Angels round the bend, staging heaven's game.

Now as the haunted hours wane, as Autumn stems it's gold,
Far beyond that garden gate, where bent flowers wither still,
From dark woods Owl recites the names, of lost souls wand'ring cold,
Witches dance round flick'ring flames, high upon iconic hill.

So on this night, this Hallows Eve, remain safely on your path,
Where righteousness and virtue, aren't blinded by the night,
So witches, demons or the devil, can't harm you with their wrath,
Behold! A glowing moon far past the garden gate, girdled by a pious light.

Waking I stare into a myriad of mirrored lights,
Watching a chameleon rearrange it's tone and shade,
Reflecting how the tiger has changed it's stripes,
Marveling as moments make rainbow beams dim and fade.

Reaching for that lost moment when all seemed bright,
Hoping with my broken being that some thing mends my heart,
Searching as the quartered moon resolves it's shining light,
Desiring while the distant stars keep secrets with their art.

Dreams that ride a painted horse,
Muse directs that hallowed play,
Visions that paint that sacred course,
Spirit points us to that blessed way.

All that sin I see and bear,
All that joy which seems so far,
All that love that isn't there,
All those secrets that veil each scar.

Wand'ring in that dreaming place,
Rambling as the sacred moon divines,
Drifting in that time and space,
Floating free o'er those guarded lines.

With this nocturne I bow and pray,
That mirrored image which I see,
With nature's blessing I stand and say,
Is nothing less than you and me.

Step after step, drifting closer to that cliff edge,
Nearer that precipice, bordering that primal ledge,
Some take flight, others plummet, stumble and fall,
With that sense, ethereal passage is but a spectral call.

If Angels live, so Archangels verily award,
If prayers are answered, with just reward,
Perhaps that rift, which looms ahead,
Shall be bridged by love, when grace is said.

If demons cling, if we don't resist,
Surely we'll succumb, love won't exist,
If evil draws us nearer to that brink,
Surely heart will die, mind cease to think.

Bound mortal, tread with cautious care,
Look to the fore, to do and dare,
Temptation rings and calls one's name,
Entrapping spirit, thus lose the game.

What behemoth hath joy conjured?
What leviathan hath love injured?
What spatial quest has thought merged?
Abreast of chasm, embellished void, so rigid, turgid.

Cold winds push me nearer, toward the rim,
Calloused hearts goad me onward, whence the clouded view is grim,
Peering o'er that imperiled canyon, I  ponder, wonder then,
Shall love and joy  atone, not if or how, but simply when?

Yearn to glimpse Heaven's gate, though joyful love seems awfully bent,
Far across that fissured rent, I hope to see what Heaven sent,
Faith is forged, Soul's trust is gauged, love's credence spent,
Upon that sacred heart, as prayers are spoken and dreams are dreamt.

Still storm clouds impede every view of Heaven's gate,
Lightning strikes that barren rim, as Angels tend to glories fate,
Impelled by God, assist man's languid case, in that grievous state,
To span the void with that rescue vow, so death be fed and sated now .

Kneeling, on the edge, fire burns within my heart,
Flaming questions, such earthly baggage, keeping love apart,
Accepting the All, granting wings and flight to mortal man,
Envelope time, so that birth and death remain within God's plan.

Rising, statuesque, by that tragic fold and hollow,
Desiring wings to grow, wishing precious flight to follow,
As sense and sensibility diminish, as Soul is tempered with that nature,
Release is found, within the bounds of that Holy stature.

God willing, across the void, with karmic touting,
Beginning new, death's ambrosia served, a chorus shouting,
Like the Phoenix musing,  radiant light be guiding,
Into Heaven's realm, with Sacred truth abiding.

So relentless death doth purge then sow,
E'en while perilous life be all we know,
Yet love and joy resist that bent,
Divine Power hath Creation sent.

To cross that void,
To span that chasm,
To enter Heaven joyed,
Free of every earthly phasm.

Unemcumbered, I slept and slumbered,
Took my leave from sunlight's blazing rife,
Lingered where dreams are dreamt and numbered,
Shook that norm, removed the shake and strife of daily life.

I closed my eyes and dreamed of truth and pure,
In my quest for wisdom, seeking every wayward star,
Discovered youth's fountain, manifesting every cure,
Into the wild I journeyed, from nearly here, to very far.

Misty dreams, rose drifting, likewise wafting,
Still, as I soaked my soul, in that steaming bath,
Across a splendid universe, beyond creation's drafting,
Up that blessed valley, down that sacred path.

Dreaming legend, conjuring myth,
Into that clouded mist I tread,
My mind met soul, my core, life's very pith,
Into that varied vision, where muse is bred.

Transiting down this path, I stopped to rest,
What had I found? Was it wisdom's source?
Did Angels guide me in this hallowed quest?
Had God revealed wisdom's divine course?

Far into night I traveled time,
Past moonlit streams, gleaming silver shine,
Through corridors of golden verse and rhyme,
Along with heartfelt hope, I held as mine.

Once the feral sun had waked and risen,
Fading galaxies somberly took their leave,
Forthwith the dream had raised it's mizzen,
Sailing past the threshold's rainbow sheave.

A port, upon some distant shore,
A tide, that ebbs and moans with lore,
A gate, where demons hold the fore,
A dream where muse is rent and more.

Beyond that blue horizon, brilliant stars are born,
Faith and light, mixed with every pastel rainbow hue,
While Angels dream each dawn and morn,
Where life is blessed, and soul is too.

Intention, where death is overcome,
Invocation, suffused with sacred Kundalini spell,
Invention, whence life bears Heaven's son,
Incarnation, infused with joy, so love might dwell. 

Along that sacred path I walked,
Abreast a stream of dreaming thought,
Abridged by time as daylight balked,
Abiding twilight, akin that starry place I sought.

Speaking verse, in some ancient tongue,
Seeking truth, I closed my weary eyes,
Wresting passage, from truths unsung,
Seizing conscience, midst many lies.

Aside the dark, that moans forlorn,
Against the wind, where time is shorn,
Adjoined by pure, and Heaven's horn,
I glimpsed that realm, where light is born.

From that ghastly trench,
whence the dead ne'er rose again,
far beyond that nauseating stench,
beyond wars grisly bane,
1918 left writhing grief alone,
thence a world that must atone,
for hateful sins that ministers and kings derived,
for young lives lost,
at such a dreadful cost,
for so much life deprived,
yet with nature's zephyr comes another terrible human moan,
as war once again rears it's fearsome head,
void of love and joy, instead,
another trench where death concocts it's home,
where shattered lives fall in pieces,
more souls lost and set adrift,
as ministers and kings cultivate yet another rift.