Wheels within wheels
Mechanical, political
The world keeps turning.

---

a man of the world
one that he made for himself
swapping steel for sun

---

sex organ of the
technological machine,
man becomes subsumed.

---

how very beautiful
that behind that mechanical feat,
an ordinary man

---

steel and man entwine
meshing together at last
encircling them both

Deep hues of nightfall
Warm, alone, I own it all
At least until dawn

---

this perfect urban
inviolate, peopleless,
non-human heaven

---

lights are so pretty
I compose a little poem
not very witty

---

Long hot summer night
I have found a reason to live,
walking the city.

---

lights stay on for the
cold steel heart of the city
humanity gone

Sad and all alone,
No one I can call my own.
Why don't girls like me?

---

You rage on Stoney
Careful where you point that gun
You may off someone

---

as they say in France
'appyniss is a warm gun
bang bang, shoot shoot, yeah

---

so what do ya want
more population control
squeeze the trigger, man

---

Get away from me
with those damn rusty scissors
and that dull razor

in a black mirror
waters of life corrupted
my dark twin stares back

---

an upside down world
where white-less eyes greet your gaze
mute in their despair

---

oh, that sweet sweet crude
makes water reflect itself
and maybe smoke more

---

colours glow,images flow
the primal pond of existence
keeps flowing - keeps growing...

Fates divine union
a child born from warring tribes
he chooses wisely

---

Dignity remains
First nation spirits have flown
Gone, not forgotten

---

what words can arise
upon seeing this wisdom
just thank you, and sorry

---

Did cities once rise
Now long forgotten and lost?
What songs did they sing?

---

calm yet fierce, he stands
waiting for the Great Spirit
bewildered absence

years of diligence,
meditative yoga, so
I can see my heel.

---

with absolutely no effort
the center piece of the sculpture
manifested formlessly

---

mastery attained
and now coiled like a spring
waiting to go BOING!

---

Living Triskelion
Quocunque Jekeris Stabit
Or Mr Terre’ Blanche?

effortlessly i sow
miraculously crops grow
this divine life flow

---

the cold autumn sun
shimmering the field to sleep
man oblivious

---

the sun a halo
sanctifying the sower
and blessing his work

---

"The field is purple,
and dude, the sky is, like, green!
or am I just high?"

---

I love two painters
van Gogh is my favourite
Constable comes next

(Phwooar! scraped it in to the fifth spot Tony!)