More Than Disconnected

There he was –

And here he still is –

Pride-blind stubborn man,

Reaching for the silver,

Expecting the love.

There we were –

Here we are still –

Though far more than disconnected;

Well past dislocated dysfunctional:

Bitter-orphan diversities.

Pretending not to listen,

Not to care.

The big casino simply

Wasn’t room enough.

Neighbour

He’s choppin’ at the strings

With intelligent-blues hands

Swappin’ up words ’bout

Love, the Devil and autumn

But beneath all the fury –

Raised voice, clenched fist;

Beyond the witch-gypsy mask

He still picks vegetables for

The local church harvest.