A Kind Of Human Mind

I wonder if you’d be so kind

To share awhile if you don’t mind

It seems that we are of a kind

Dwelling deep on things in mind

Music shared our special kind

Synchronised to ease our mind

Two-way pledges paid in kind

Perseverance borne in mind

We each extend to visitor kind

Changes help to air the mind

Bring comfort to the needy kind
Overriding matters of the mind

The Hole Story

Peaceful in a cubbyhole

Imagining a peephole

To see inside a black hole

Discovering a porthole

A way out through a keyhole

Take care around the loophole

Shunning comfort in a bolthole

Or endure in every borehole

Eternal label in a hellhole

No escaping from a pigeonhole

Breathing foul air in a pothole

Straining fresh air near a pinhole

A struggled self-made manhole

Who tumbles down a sinkhole

Fingers covered by his armhole

Emotions waxing in my earhole

Scented roses in a buttonhole
Speak of elsewhere in a wormhole

J J Way

Monsieur DuPont is daubing

Luxurious licks of paint

A colour swatch of coverings

Visual schemes of sweetly quaint

A spotless sweep of brushstrokes

In pools where I see eye to eye

Canvass coloured shades and hues

In clouds of multicoloured sky

Intoxicating gentle waterfalls

Suggesting dash of verve and swerve

Where the crux is clearly Dulux

In patternation’s easy curve

LINK: A potted history of paint

LINK: To ICI "Where I see eye to eye

Tour d'horizon

Sitting by my favoured books

Where I probe ideas well known

Reviewing insights that recover me

From garden wild plants overgrown

Determination in seclusion

Clears the way for new collections

So many scribbled doodling’s

Become corrections then selections

Raising leaves from standing water

I dredge the pond of stale ingressions

Seeing undercurrents surfacing
A fountain gush of new impressions

Today Only

Once again

the daybreak sang

throwing sunrays

at my eyes

to breathe in deep 

the morning air

First lights golden

morning prize

Hearing faintly

distant city sounds

feeling movement

in the air

Standing quietly

by the kitchen bar

filling coffee cups

to share

This now 

may never call again

But if it does

I will delight

drawing curtains

open windows wide
once more
I beat the night

Bingo Bongo

Sitting crowded in the eager hall

Fingers tensely rhythm beat

Dabbing ready heartbeat steady

Sexy numbers red hot heat

Massive music breaks the tension

Heightened passions in a dance

The Bingo Bongo multitude

Acquire desire for one more chance

I’m Looking Out For Einstein

Being here and there apparently

Is more likely than one sees

Like standing in a 'trail of things'

Tricky time-span mysteries

Living upbeat in my ‘Now Point’

In my world of self deception

Allowing me an inkling

On fake illusions of perception

Confounded by my state of play

And my somewhere nonexistence

I wonder where I ought to be

Amid my angles of consistence

All at once I’ve been and gone

Or still waiting for my birth

Whilst never having been here yet

I am my future place on earth

So thanks so much to Mr Einstein

Maybe I’ll meet him during sleep

Or in my wakefulness rewound again

Prepared to take the quantum leap

Past present and future is only an illusion albeit a persistent one
STORY LINK

No Fault Found

The intention is perfection

A flawless structured stone

Not susceptible to frailty

Nor hidden mishap prone

Observing every lesson learned

Predicting likelihood potential

What-if plans and second guesses

Of tried and tested parts essential

Logic paths of stairs and steps

Speculation free of chancers

Who dive wildly in deep water

Pursuing shallow ended answers

A Life Sentence

To the conscious life is weird

where so many levels meet

Is life just one big dining hall

of chuck the living wait to eat

Observe your pecking orders

a ruling etiquette of things

Bastions of the psychopath

divinely righteous style of kings

Head honcho’s reading menus first

waiters hold their breath in fear

Consent is one more power play

a smiling tiger’s thin veneer

Citizens with starving pangs

watch as mighty mouthfuls sate

Licking thumbs whilst eyeing crumbs

taking turns to lick the plate

Look at life how great it is

hail the winner on the heap

Who needs to grab and store it all

for blind eyed courtiers feigning sleep