Ireland Calls

Ireland calls

Whispering jewel on an icy sea

Dancing the Cromwell stomp

Genocidal tendencies harshly criticized

Keeping the people in russet thread

Sterile Soldiers at their beck and call

Ruling the world in a bottle

Ethos in Obscurity

Ireland calls

The home on the wintery sea

One that I will never glimpse

Tomb stones over dust

History beckons me

A voice of rebellion in my soul

The drum beats mocking my heart

Stomping on my histories dust

Ireland calls

Echoing across the sea

The language new to me

Words lost in the clouds

The meaning is obvious

Liquid Amber from a whispering jewel

A voice of rebellion in my soul

The drum mocking my heart

Dug up and beheaded

Nature’s harsh tendencies

Driven by a tide

Roots in a land not my own

Scattered across the earth

Nomads of a whispering jade

The Weekend

A three day long

Lasted two months long

Started with a kiss

An ordinary weekend

That lasted long

Gone before the dawn

Weekend two months long

Starting with a glance

Ending with a kiss

As the sun crests the dawn

Hangover that will not let go

Patiently doing time

Wondering like a leaf

Fluttering in the wind

Memories of you

Amusement in misery

Alternating every second

The affection long since gone

Dislike carved in stone

A few days of delight

The tattoo itched in

Looking different upside down

Marking the skin

Master piece to some

Only a scar to me

The x-rays can’t see

Weekend two months long

Starting with a glance

Ending with a kiss

As the sun crests the dawn

Hangover that will not let go

Patiently doing time

Out of the gloom

Paris

Descending in the clouds

Landing in a fog

A city the color of ash

Gloomy in gray

History in a haze

One monument after another

Blending in a mixer seemingly mush

The music in the Metro

Wafting off the walls like fresh baked bread

Mesmerizing me with it sure beauty

The notes echoing off the floor and people

A memory worth a million words

Standing there listening

As the crowds rolled by

The sounds of the cello etched in my soul

Complex yet so simple

Imperceptive and divine

The music was perfection

A love life long

The voice bringing me out rapture

We are late for the Mona Lisa

I wanted to stay but needed to go

A date with a lady

Hundreds of years gone

Ascending into the day

A light refreshingly bright

The gloom disappeared

A city in flowers

Spring arrived

A famed painting small

The colors adding to the dull

Music equally brilliant

Maybe a bagger with a cello

Or a genus practicing perfection

Paris was no longer mush

Judas has many faces

Judas screams betrayal

Standing as he did on the wall

Paid off and set free

A captive of tyranny

Enslaved by notoriety

The choice martyrdom

Reputed to be a dishonest man

All have been betrayed

All have been enslaved

All face tyranny

Entrapped in recompense

Deceived by circumstance

Mislead by the simple truth of silence

Fooled by the unfaithful

The heart knows betrayal

Treachery in adulterous hope

The soul cut open in the actions of trust

Judas has many faces

Judas screams betrayal

Standing as he did on the wall

All have been betrayed

All have been enslaved

Angels look on with broken wing

Landing where only angels can

Not heaven and not hell

Clinging to this land

Deceived by hope

Staring back at you

Luck

Lucky one
Guilty to be standing
Regret for still being here
Driving down the highway
Than every thing was upside down
Tumbling in a human size dryer
Twisting and turning in slow motion
How the water floated in the air
Seemly gloating as it morphed
The screaming deafening
Black and white tumbling
Guilty to be standing
Regret to be still here
Blackness
I hear a train in the distance
On the other side
Blinding white

Misplaced

Misplaced memories

Where did they all go?

A color and a smell

Bringing them back

For a short time

A face that looks familiar

A glance in a room full of people

Misplaced memories

Like a box full of snap shots

Each one has a voice

A place in history

A smell that lingers

So long ago in Venice

Looking down from a bridge of tears

At the gondola as you journey by

That sunny day in Florence

Each building had a mark

The flood from a century before

David standing so proud

Made form an idealistic icon

In your own image

Standing in front of a statue   

In Rome amongst the ruins

The Pope addressing ten thousand strong

Each time seeing you for the first time

Memories misplaced in time

A color and a smell

The nostalgic shape of the familiar

A perfume that lingers

In Paris at Notre Dame

The choir sings

At the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam

The color did glow

Where the wall once stood in Berlin

And soldiers once stared each other down

Each time seeing you for the first time

Holding you near

Even though you’re gone