Tapestry

 

Oh what a tangled web – the tapestry you weave.

Built upon shifting sands – those stories you tell to deceive.

They change colours, faster than a chameleon can.

In the light of day, they have, not a leg to stand

upon which one may walk with truth in hand.

 

Declining Desire

Thank you for a hand, raisin a waning wieny,

for paying lip service to resur-erection of the dying.

Thank you for taking into your motherhood, my little man,

allowing him to feel, to touch, to give as much as he can.

 

  Thank you for taking in his homeless dreams, for the moment,

for within me there is no dreams and within you

their dreams will not but touch the silver lining

before their little souls, with their big dreams, ascend

into all the universes, trying to find more than an end.

B. J. “A” 2

May 19^th 2006