Rockets, titans hurled skyward 
Raging, spitting gouts of white 
fire, at long last earth’s grip loosed.
Heaven waits, unknown, unbound.
--------- 
Within pages of books I find my 
worlds; uncountable, circling stars
Strange and wondrous, too distant for 
Ships but well within arm’s reach

A time will come, just wait, it’s destiny
Of course it will, you bet, any money. 
Here, see, it’s clear, it’s carved on my palm,
Come wealth, come fame, come dame, also a farm,
A mansion small with twenty bedrooms, park,
Garages, cars and bikes, a lake, a bark
(A boat, that means, betimes we grope for rhyme)
And critical acclaim for poems sublime.
All will be mine, but when? The years
Have gone, a worried daze or happy haze
Always some dream or otherwise some fears. 
Now there’s more was than will, and greatness nears,
It's round the corner, years or months or mere days
Away, a tease, it fades and reappears. 

Embrace me now my love, this heav’nly night
For who can tell, this fleeting life, we might
Or never yet, a chance to meet again.
These golden hours by good fortune are mine
Come close and fill your heart with me, this sight
For who can tell, this fleeting life, we might 
Or never yet, a chance to meet again.
Come close, for soon, mere memories remain.
My arms’ warm clasp, this time perhaps the last
My eyes that gleam with tears, will all be past.
Embrace me now my love, this heav’nly night
The moon, the stars, all move on while we wait. 

We skip along a field thick strewn with mines
We tread upon explosives, ignore the signs
We still are whole, no need for body bags
We ask for trouble, beg for it; fate drags 
Its feet it bides its time, it’s slow but wait
It's got our number, get it we will alright. 

She sang like an angel 
And he heard with his eyes.
For she looked liked an angel too,
As if a beautiful voice was not enough.
Sometimes the creator, deity or blind chance,
Whoever, whatever it is who hands out these favours,
Gathers them all in a heap so one doesn’t have to look hither
And thither for a feast for the eyes, and ears, balm for the very soul.

I was a quiet pond
Even the wind made only languid ripples.
And you came
Like a nomad cloud.
Bombed me with raindrops
Little bursts of excitement. 
Plop went the blue sky
On the glass of my stillness. 
Then you moved on
Leaving behind water drops.
Mine now. And yet 
Memories of something other.
And the glass of my stillness
looks at the blue sky, 
waits for a cloud. 

Happiness is a varicoloured butterfly
Fluttering like eyelashes, long ones
In the cold of December, eat buns
What else, what else rhymes…yes, runs
Youth is a fleeting dream, flitting
Like the butterfly aforementioned
Faded memories you carry into old age
Child of strife, a waif, ghosts by in stealth
Ho hum, a long drawn out sigh, expels breath
If this, this is all, all this is life’s sum
Then what do we do, in history’s bum
Oh look, a cotton puff cloud floating slow
Where have we come from, where to now?

In the deeps of space, a star.
A pinprick of light, a feeble candle
In the endless dark.
Fuses atoms, blazes
Makes radiance.
In its embrace,
A world.
Dawn, morning.
A human 
Made of star fragments
Looks at a patch of sunlight
That paints shadows
Of a sapling
On the gold shaded ground. 

It’s dusk, or dawn, or grey, at any rate
Monday? Friday? May? June? No clue what date. 
I’m here. It’s where? And how? And why? This place?
No, wait. Come down, hello from earth to space.
Ah, space. An asteroid. That is me. 
A rock, a chunk of matter floating free
Adrift in void I move hither, thither
Flitter about, no aim, without tether.
I start, can’t stop, freefalling through the vast
And empty deep, no moor, no future, past.
Perpetually I travel reach nowhere
Nothing to keep me when I arrive there.
My eyes, they see, unlabelled objects that
Dissolve, pinpricks, forgotten, but
I’m here, in these brief gaps between neurons
neurotransmitters leaping from axons.
In these momentary minute faint sparks
Is me, I live in this current that arcs
From cell to cell, in these quick fading links
This jumbled tangled net of thoughts, eye blinks
That make a whole picture, half seen, half dream.
The gold sunset, grey dusk blue night all seem
Complete, consistent, but are miragical
The mind, the self, all just a brain signal,
And taste of coffee, smell of smoke, this joint
And this cannabis high, so what’s the point?