They still frisk when the rain hits
And toss when the wind scowls on them
And batters them into place, they bend
With the winds of time

They are softer in many ways, the dying ones
And they draw the vivid green from those still alive
Until all are one in dying

And we humans notice as we wander by
Our hearts fixed on the road before us
Eyes rushing past change we can’t comprehend,
Until our day comes and plows us off the road
And into the woods where we belong
And we too shiver in the cold, and at the last
We change our colors to suit who we were all along
Under coats of chlorophyll contagions of success
Always seeking green, seeking money, excess
Suddenly blazing yellow, red, purple with defiance
Because all are one in death, cowardly, bold, and royal in death

the bricks we carry upon our back,
as we live from day to day
the cement we take from peoples stares
as they judge us because “lifes not fair”
and so we build the wall.

we build the wall
to shield ourselves from hypocritic eyes
we build the wall to keep people out
and protect us from our final goodbyes
we build the wall to block the shouts
and to limit out our cries.

the wall we build to keep people out,
will only keep us inside
Our true colors,
our true rhyme,
the true “me” inside.

The wall now our only friend.
charcol stone in the form of square bricks.
Stacked together perfectly,
And piling up to the sky
While disapearing at each side.
And yet the wall traps us,
in the contense of our own mind,
Surrounding us completly,
While threatning to take over.
We find ourselves completly lost,
Until, that is we find,
a friend worth of showing the “me” lost inside.

understanding your friend will be patient,
while you slowly take down the bricks,
carring, with wisdom they will help you find your way.
And when you do finally make your way through,
your lovable, unique friend will be there waiting for you

you saw me later lookin’ hot
then you wanted a piece of my roll top
i remembered you from college when like these sticky buns
you were always baked.

back then you played me
and i thought inside you, there must be something more
behind closed doors, you declared your love for cinnamon rolls
but when i made them for you, you told everyone i was psycho.

mmm, mmm, you suck.

Hidden underneath the bark
Safe and sound in cosy dark
Each making an artistic mark
Like a little “I’m here” plaque.

Caterpillar crawling there
Do not give in to despair
I think your life is very fair -
You’ll soon fly in the warm, bright air.

I wish that I could fly like you
But then they’d put me in a zoo!
Something they will never do
To you, so trust me, it is true

You’ll have your moment flying free
When you escape from bark and tree

Lois Eaton 2-2-9

White knuckles
sweat dripping down
hot pressure building
spinning around

total control
although feeling free
i feel your body
your power invading me

such sweet taste
liquid warm smell
a listless beauty
for her how i fell

Financial arrangement

Bank notes in an envelope
arrived limp and worn,
soggy with perfume,
probably Chanel.

She washes it off her hands with
special new soap.
It’s called ‘moody blues’,
zesty and smooth in the
colours of Monet’s
waterlillies.

I think the most powerful lines where:

“I never knew what alone meant
til I observed the icy urgent rain drops”

…..just beautiful!

Behold the

Rapid
Grappling
Mixing
Pumping
Loud
Machine,

It falters in a China Shop, besmirks a Mezzanine,

It unbelongs in Bowling Alleys, Living Rooms and Skiffs

It has no need for Heraldry, Embroidery, or Spliffs,

In fact it only has one truly rightful, safe milieu:

It fills up Concrete Forms, manipulated by a Crew.