Once worked

Where I once worked
Now just a desk, a seat and phone.
Posters still on the wall
But drawers empty as
Notebook pages.

Where once I worked
Now new desks and ringtones
Gossips still in the hall
But not about me
Not for ages.

Once I worked where
Passion and policy collided
Service was still a call
But then it went unanswered
No messages.

Just feeling?

Love is a feeling
No, no it's about willing actions
Demonstrating and serving
Not self gratifying
But self giving
Until you are empty
Unloveable
Perhaps
And unforgiving.

Surely love is fiery passion
Thats burns into actions
Maybe reckless
Foolishness
Not self conscious
But Other focussed
Until they are consumed
Unloved
By any other
and unforgetting.

On Michael Jackson's death

A living legend dies
And we autopsy his dysfunction
As the virally broadcast loss
Dissects our griefs outpoured in public
Over songs and dances that were shared
Millions of times over
While he's beat it
And sleeps
Never to be harmed anymore.

Inspiration

Why is melancholy so inspiring?
So many sad songs
Is happiness too fleeting
That prose can't capture it?
The froth, fizz and the hours
That whizz by?

How can pain make such art?
Bittersweet symphonies
Does the masterpiece
trap and contain it?
Bound up in oil and glaze
Never to harm us again?

Midsummer

Midsummer in Scotland
Heat trapped in houses
Still light
Till nearly midnight
Windows open but no
Exhaling of the stifling air.

Midsummer in Scotland
Endless evening
Two days in one
Sometimes sun!
Nowadays barbeque, patio and
Decking are standard fare.

Midsummer, Scotland
High altitude clouds etch
New coastlines and oceans
Solsticed
and soul stirred
At the vast map of possibilities
until sunset burns them bare.