Sleepless

2 A.M.

my mind

is racing

Tracing 

outlines 

Of the 

many things

I've seen

And done

In life

The neighbours

In my head

Are having

A party.

Someone 

Call the cops

The music 

That I'm 

Hearing 

pounding

Rhythms

Exotic

Hypnotic

Idiotic

In several

Hours 

I'll scrape

My sorry 

carcass

Out off bed

And smile 

And try

To be alive

In the moment

But right now

The flowing

Momentum

Of this 

Magma of 

Dream vomit

Is keeping me

From the

Stillness

Surrounding me.

We Breathe

Such a sorry state

My eyes seek yours

Barely awake

So tired,  unable to 

Sleep or wake

Quality of life

Is at stake

Joy and sorrow

Numbed to

Tundra where

Nothing grows

But lichen

Not likin'

This sorry story

State of 

Change of life

So strange

Hope is on

The horizon

Her eyes on me

So kind and

Gentle, loving 

Through

The pane of pain

Both hers and mine

We breathe

Night Train

I hear a freight train

But I don't live near

Any train tracks

Some trick of wind

Of rainy night

Has brought

Her near

The moaning groan

Of straining diesel

And clackety clack

Of wheel on steel

There are tracks

To the south of here

On the edge 

of the escarpment

And to the north

Of Côte-St.-Luc

Too far to hear

This sound so near

I wonder why and how

I hear it

I've always loved the 

sound of trains

I recall fondly

St. Henri's

switching 

sparking 

shriek 

To the 

sidings

While the fountains

Poured out of

Jacques Cartier's statue

In the empty park below

As the baby slept

Forgive Me

I want to walk through fields of gold

Hand in hand with you

I want to talk of feelings old

Transferred to suit the new

A maiden stole my heart away

I had no brain to think

I knew not what do do or say

my mind was on the blink

A lad of seventeen knows not

His elbow from his ass

Or what to do when flirty eyes

Return from any pretty lass

For forty years she held my verse 

Which means, of course, she bought it

My earnest hugs and lies and worst

thing Is that I promptly forgot it

Rogues and rascal troubadours

Are teen age boy delinquents

cyclone hormones raging more

and taken out of sequence

Oh the things i said when just a lad

If i knew what i now know

The different life i might have had

no win, no place, no show

After

After

Looking after

Looking

After looking

After

Looking 

After looking after 

Everyone and everything

Looking out doing

Out

Doing out

Doing

Out doing

Out

Doing 

Out doing out

Doing

Out doing 

Everything for everyone

You see...and you feel,

And you wish...and you kneel

And it's real

Really intense

It doesn't matter

It makes no sense

Over

Seeing over

Seeing

Over seeing

Over

Seeing

Over seeing over

Seeing

Over seeing

Everything for everyone

Care

Intensive care

Intensive

Care intensive

Care

Intensive

Care intensive care

Intensive

Everything and everyone

You sigh.....and you cry

You accept ...all but except

It's too real

Really intense

It doesn't matter

It makes no sense

The Author

Some days it’s all too much

Too many pages closing 

way too fast and

I am not sure I understood

this last chapter

It feels like I just skimmed

Looking for details and

finding none I gave up

hope for understanding

Maybe the next chapter

will offer more insight

into the last few

at least now I am

the author

Spinster

Fresh fruit

Left dangling.

Too high

to pick

Ripening,

Juicy,

Her taste

a gleam

She will fall.

Uneaten.

her last

grasp

Futile

as her 

bruises

soften her

flesh

and

return her

to earth