When needles drop
on feathered cushions,
the colour of future dims,
and waters fall relentlessly --
where is the speaker then,
where is this shoulder I can lean?

Of late,
only seekers
who gain by others --
knock the door,
to partake a priceless gift of time and benefit

Precious is the friend
who shows face _ in hour of need
by simple deed,
__ a word maybe?

Hypocrites who speak of God’s Love
and "save the world"
and "karma",
dreadfully bore and exhaust Ones will

Mister Lennon’s requested company of:
"Truth",
is all We want

I speak these words, not in self-righteous tone
but in manner of want and need to find the one,
the individual who must be out there __ somewhere

One of true heart

How naïve of this amebic mind
of mine _
to mime Plato or speak of Socrates

Brave Me, with my philosophical yens
and perhaps, paradoxical eccentricities
_ _ OLE !

Char's Menu      THE WEB      Internt Clipart.com