Blue Eyes Green

Black. White. Eyes open and the light is bright.

Your eyes are closed, but they are all I can see.

Open them, let me gaze upon your dilated sight,

regard upon my scope, you may examine me,

let me witness you behold me in your ogling.

Identify and descry any distinction in our focusing.

Detect the lust in my eye. Open your eyes and let ‘em

advertise the chastity from your optic in my vision.

Uncover the gluttony of my gaze. Look upon them,

and permit me sight of your temperance for revision.

Stare into the wrath of my peeper. Use your ocular

enlightenment to praise forgiveness Mary mother

of Jesus. Of Muhammad. Of God. Of Allah. Eight.

Four pairs. Brown pupils, blue eyes, green eyeball.

Some variation between colour, but all hate.

Oh, wait. No – not hate: love. Love. Above all,

love each other deeply, because love covers over

a multitude of sins. It is not the eyes that are blind,

but the hearts.

Forward

I could forgive

you if you

said sorry, but I

will not forget.

I will not

be mad,

I will not

be sad.

I won’t

fight the lad

or pretend

to be glad;

I will look

forward

and I will

walk.

The Wanderlust Lyric

Look over at the horizon, see the

shadow haunting me. See it stalk behind

three miles; crossing forests, swamps and sea.

I can not turn back. My path is defined.

Will it follow me like this forever?

And where shall we find? Are we journey-bound

like blood to a hound, treading wherever

boots tread – or will it tread me underground?

More running from my demon won’t solve this,

but for now, running will do. But one stride

from the edge is a stride for the abyss.

Oh, if I could stride skylines by your side

without afearing the death in your eyes

to wander into the splendid sunrise.