BeheadwebA gentle flow inside
wishes me to let go.
An insolent pride
with speeches of woe
would starve off my embers
and trample my children
with answerphone distemper
cramp my easy entrance.

The doorbell in my face
tunes the channel to soul growth
and the next call I make
in the seething furrow
finds a cure for chaos
in emotional mystery;

the sense of new Eros
assists the distillery.


Trooping the colour,
this time seeing nothing.

I can’t explain, or else
wander off again.

The miracle of things growing:
I’m scared of what comes next.

It must be too easy,
like necklaces and necks.

– People should be themselves
and not a bittersweet joke.

– If you grow up on a bogus journey
then cross it off the list.

– Don’t fight the lines of new relief
or you’ll fall fast asleep.

– As time diminishes
challenge becomes paramount.

– Lubricate a growing measure
to communicate a knowing pleasure.

© 2003 Pete Gioconda & Black Cat Communications
All rights reserved