Lizards in neat suits,
Play out a little game,
Hushed as in cahoots,
Impressing as if tame,

The night so dimly tucked,
Swallows flooding heat lamps:
The game is 'bruptly up,
They scatter from the camp.

We talk the talk of dreams,
The sky is soft and dim and we to watch,
So full on time in merry passing by,
And as this moment meets the next,
I hope it lasts a fossil in its time,
Though it falls liminal like pleasant dreams.

How has it come to be-
I truly am just always walking.
In duet and then at sole,
In ruckus and in steady roll,
Like river and like small eddy,
By louder friends and foes so silently,
Well in truth, when stacked against myself,
The tune is still and whispers shelved,
My gaze is high and low upon the streets,
My sweeping sight is quick upon my feet.

The sun is muddled in the glass,
Warm petals to the seated crowd,
And so the evening blooms,
Rose dipped in amber heats.

There's much more beauty in each inch,
All stars that hide behind each wistful cloud,
All birds that nest amidst the emerald leaves,
All blades that fill the sight with far more detail that it knows,
The time is too wonderfully slow.
The afternoon just barely drawing breath,
What a time to remake friends.

I'm finding fun with you my kin and friends,
Deep at the bottom of all childhood dreams,
All pools and safe-depths conquered to each inch,
Perhaps we'll try some cards down here in the,
Unfriendly unders - we'll bask in cyan rays,
Such speckled lights upon our frozen glares,
Deep in the balance of the air and careful hands.

A little splash within your lives,
And I'm deep within the pool again,
We're in this same time-frozen place,
I've watched us age and change so fast,
Our humours come and go in somewhat style,
But I pray our warmness never cools,
I hope that I will leave such ripples as to waft,
Towards the shores of grace and selfless love.

Reuniting with the saints,
Those close to my worn heart,
To praise and sit under the weight,
Of truth and lightly leave unburdened,
With the knowledge of true friends.

My lazy sticks strike out in pairs,
Heavy beams swinging so slowly to,
A measured grab that drips with spice,
Sweet ruby droplets found on sticky rice,
The Sun is slipping slowly by,
An evening on the grass with friends.

A blessed sunny day at rest,
Though walking singing having fun,
In bustle and quiet doldrums,
By flowers and gaunt metal crane,
In people and without again,
But slowly slowly by.

The laugh returns,
My bordline in rhyme,
The cheekiness is mine,
To misconstrue into a joke,
The sparkle threatening to poke,
Out from my eye to whom concerns.

Donning now the fools sharp head,
His sparking eyes and cheeky smile,
Forgetting all the self for just a while,
To laugh and be a laugh.

Reunion with friends I never knew,
Slight strangers with fast-fading nerve,
Worn out before it ever did spark up,
On paths we mostly took the same,
The trees we passed and settled seats,
The trains and salty air - home shared,
Far from pebbles we find similar spires.

The challenge is as set,
To fill a room with friends,
And for a time forget,
The time, that is - but rend,
A memory to set within a frame.

Of laughter and contagious joy,
Filled out with tritone static in the ears,
The rust forgone, inhibitions frail,
To dance a silly dance with friends.

On the evening grass, false stars transfix,
Make for static reverents in deep blue,
Clamour and old tumbling rush are quelled,
Pushed as a bad dream to the edges of thought,
Forgotten for a sweeter day cloaked in night,
For laughter and becoming nearer friends.

Play beside the setting sun,
Painterly, a drama for the bell-
-y, filling up on weary drink:
The madness of dear friends.

Unemployed behaviour at its finest,
Basking in the afternoon blaze,
Breeze just tucking underneath the shade,
A place where laughter is unshackled best.

Returning to our symbols,
At the jest and wit of such orators,
They open up the wisdom of their time:
Dishevelled hair and awkward smiles,
That hide a fierce humanity spent,
In pure pursuit of abstract riddles,
In boyish sprints and sagelike seats,
With friends and walking far alone,
With books that make the monuments of the past.

Adventures north from sleepy fields,
Drew out a smile upon the sun,
The breeze met with a bed of hair to wield,
Beholding all the trees persuading company in shade,

The river writes a fine riddle:
Bottomless but capped with riverbed,
Winding never truly wound instead,
Penniless but bejeweled on every head,

What fine company in shade and sun,
To march upon the gates of sister spires.

Polling friends,
Sprinkling a tiny bit of wit,
To brighten mundane enquiry,
In quest the day of bestest fit.

Chaos in a friendly shade,
Refracting through a jovial eve,
Alive to chorus of warm laughter,
Bounces off the bricks, nestles in the crowd.

Beanbags lounging in the lazy sun,
Mundanely cascade into a misplaced cheer,
Too valiant, maddened for this sleepy sky,
Pulling tight the eyes to joyful little creases.

Wealthy days are spent with friends,
Good laughter fills a joyous coffer,
Ever talking, pulling faces,
Meeting energy with like.

Running out of words,
I find myself in open meadows,
Spacious in the fallen chatter's echo,
The air is richer with sole babbling streams.

How one longs for friendship without words,
Yet prattles on in fear and harsh forgetting,
That good company not chatter is a blessing,
That to be known - to walk beside,
Continues where mere words can hardly dream.

Collapsing into bed, the day drawn strangely long:
Extended on a churning belly,
Full of laughter. Only pardoned,
When it's vacant energy was spent,
And the march through darkness home remained,
Off, off to bed.

An unexpected guest,
To grace old wooden doors,
To see old sandstone arches soar,
On valiant pillars looking west.

Sunny lives on rainy days,
Giggles of a couple waltz by ornate gates,
Common friends at pace in gentle patter,
Off to business of the smiling sort,
In much learning and exploring,
Tribute to the tender humming of the clouds.

Dents and austere shards upon the range,
A mottled mountain crammed into a cup,
Lines go soft and faces flatten as the clay,
In time a spoon, great gaia's thrall,
Grinds the mottled mountain to a dome,
Then to a cardboard cavity amidst,
A throng of friends worn down to cups the same.

An offset day,
In bellowing smoke and rain,
Just barely bearing forth,
In puffs and chugs again,
The weary and the madness,
The friendship all the same,
Redeems an offset day.

Evening banter in long shadows,
A tall task to turn between -
So many faces embroiled in talk,
Then marching over food to boot,
Plunging into machinations thick,
Colouring our verbal games.

Splayed hands in biting cold,
Gesture to the deepened night,
Half-finished tales are told,
Weaving through the banter light,
So soon the round devolved,
To spattered words at every sight,
And blinking you step out the fold,
To some lesser silence in warm company.

An ordered scattering of cards,
To madness heralding the end,
When all the jig is up votes descend,
And through cracked lips pronounce us merry fools,
Flocking in their every feather,
Perching, leaning close together,
Gathered while the night is young and sleep too hard.

What a faithful friend,
In pain and mystery,
In time and round each hurling bend,
The fearsome one, fragrant mercy.

So much soup- two times no less,
It's salty blend of homely runs along the tongue,
And with a crispy bit of toast - the loaf,
Makes friends with every crunch.

Old friends become so new again,
When right there face to face,
Their breath so warm it'd bargain -
With the air. It'd fill with fog the space,
And laced in every passing vapour,
Far-spoken 'ventures on this fledgling race.

Tugging strings before they snap,
To chuck a wave across the sky,
So many beams diverge to meet,
A friend with good news and greeting.

Familiar voices from so far afield,
Greet my ears through speckled waves,
Cast upon the rocks and turned to foam,
Though flashes clarify to spear the ebb,
Onwards I press for this I know:
The waves do march from far afield,
And I hear friends though hold them not.

Making friends not war,
Though samely on a battlefield,
So argued in a series of rebuffs,
Round cruelly dreamt up traps,
Dictated plainly in expanded thought,
Discursive hills and valleys for the board,
Until the silence reigns in rest,
Before it's shattered at a twice held awe,
One learned, the other flatly fresh.

Away in fog and veil,
To turn up far away and still,
The heart at spilling flames,
The breath at bubbling pops,
Light your face beneath the night,
Converse and tighten up to watch,
The tongues in well-situated silence.

Friendly fascination for a people of my kind,
Who like to talk particularities for a welcome time,
Who know to weave a depth of knowlege into storied tunes,
Whose stories make my eyes to shine and prove to be a boon.

Hanging panels stand attent,
Looking down on passing strangers,
Eating drinking laughing bent,
Encumbered in wafting aromas,
Drawn down into a meal well spent,
Accompanied by passing friends,
Soon scattered, for a moment rent-
Apart, but found again as surely as
The sky returns to vivid marigold after the night.

A meet up sparing not the time
To plan far first but spend it on
The time and laughs when just a few
Can gather before departing.
Perhaps this be the water
That will tide the friendship to
A far off time beyond all these
Years to when our beards are grey.

A rain walk - rain talk,
To bridge the time between,
Old friends to the shifting hiss,
New friends in view of this
Old sound a texture into sheen,
Turned the world a blackboard and it chalk,

It wrote here in the petals,
It wrote here in the leaves,
It wrote here in the sloping hills,
The hidden stones beneath,

The people they must hear it,
The backdrop of a life under the clouds.

What a gift to find a friend,
Who's just like you but not the same,
When talk of things flows free as water,
Where you pick each others brains to find the gold,
Why look beside when you can see,
How kind the Lord is to our souls,
To gift to us true brethren and a people that we didn't know.

Brewing over a mug of equations with a friend,
Carving out a graph beside stark circuit lines,
Weaving up a story to encapsulate the fact,
Cooking up an abstract thought of tiny things,
That make up all the ticking clocks and buzzing air -
Our plane is ready to depart.
Tomorrow we make our escape from all these eager pictures.

Why not make the vastness of this age,
The information age a chessboard for the mind,
A racetrack built on hyperlinks and eons,
Of collective time - the toil of archivalists,
Why not test a naive lens upon the links,
To see how far this youthful sight will carry you between,
To take in fragments of a fact to spur you onwards to the goal,
Just time before the other finds the same.

Just to watch the sunset fall,
Isn't it beautiful that the day is done?
Can't you see this gift of time all wrapped up neat,
In such fervent descent into gold and mauve?
Painted tranquility just as Turner's Carthage.
In laughter and a wandering peal of giggles,
Cold breezes by the tufts of grass,
Innocent of the time that passed,
Come find the memories that
Huddle at the roots of fledgling trees.
In all this wholesome friendship found,
Confess that the day is done but He remains and
In His name we sought to find a friendship good and lovely.

There's still sand in my face,
Still dust crusts in my eyes,
It flickers to starlight on the sea,
What gorgeous geometry.
Framed pebbles in their flowing waves,
Like gemstones in bezels embed-
ded in my feet until they're red,
Next pebbles turn to pat my back,
A friend of rocks -
False friends with rocks,
Convent how they end up there,
At least I hear their laughter all the same.

Word gaming and semantic framing,
For fried physics brains and friends,
They make good company and strike up a dance,
Upon a slow stuttered train that halts and stops,
Starts again to see the dawn of play,
The dawn of something given laughter and lightness,
To find a piece of what is human in the learning,
To see the fun in semantic framing,
To see the good in closeness born from play.

Gladness in a band of friends,
Laughs and pizza warming in the oven,
Now my glass is overflowing -
You see, there's Coca-Cola on the table,
What a headache seeping down into a giggle,
To be a fool in friendly company,
An evening with a band of friends.

This gift of giving gifts of clay,
More blessed than receiving such,
Of forming formless things to shapes,
Of finding fun and making ways,
Then to pour it out again for friends,
And turn like glass to image Him,
He always loved to make and share,
And now He gives this gift to us.

The cloudy sky is mottled pastel blue,
The grass is green and vibrant through and through,
I watch the clouds, they dance to one fine tune,
Friendship blooms in a windy afternoon.

We hit the crazy time,
Time that rolls with laughter,
Time unstrung with dissonant tune,
Proximity fathered such hilarity.

Today I became a taxi,
For a boy, I walked a span,
Him on my back with neon twigs,
And telling me of shapes and faces-
-time to refuel, my arms too tired...
Now we sit in midnight fields,
On a plastic bag and waving,
At the passing faces that march on and smile,
I boot up the engine,
Off to find his Mum I tread.

Frantic hands,
Mind ticking to the clicking beat,
Bomb rushing by,
Gotta think,
Cannot blink,
Find a word to defeat,
The clock ticking as I sit on my seat,
Booooom,
A life lost in the heat -
Of the moment, mind frozen like the peak -
Of mountain and the time is clicking again.

Loopy brain,
To soupy turned a mind too sleepy,
Now we talk in circled squares,
About a time with ice cream gloopy,
With stories told in wooden chairs,
And just as well some benches creaky,
Laughter follows through the air,
To hearts laid bare and balls flown swiftly,
Thank you Lord for answered prayer.

Running round in the cooling eve,
A fiasco by the swaying trees,
And out we go,
One down,
Two down,
And alas, I follow,
Marching to the side to cheer,
The frenzied shouts I hear,
Soon we'll be back within the game again.

Loudest shirt,
Drowns out the cannon balls,
And flying water sprawled about,
And all the laughter and stern sights,
That lock on flying yellow spheres,
Dived under by a shirtless bunch,
That smile and hit wild crashing blows,
On yellow balls that bounce above,
And eclipse the sun...
Yet even still the talking's drowned,
Yet even still the great joyful cheers,
And dancing fall so quiet from: the loudest shirt.

Baking a friendship,
Risen in Christ,
And sprinkled with questions and vulnerability,
It's far better when you follow the divine recipe:
Love for the other in service,
Striving together for the prize - who is our Lord,
And a respect for the fellow image bearer,
It's so sweet yet it drips with contemplative complexity.

Four pees podding,
Squashed up in wrapping duvet,
Wittering joyous nothings,
Echoing one another between bursts of lucid lines.

A helping hand received,
By words on a screen,
To aid a friend in need,
In mathematical madness to see
-Reason to the many dancing threes,
And other numbers of course,
Denoting countless probabilities.

The silence plummets,
With the arching dart,
Homing in a little to the left of where I thought to land a hit,
But alas a double eleven is struck,
Surely darts fly to my best interest,
Surely this sequential flying dream will pierce the-
Oh, I missed the board,
A joyous giggle resounds between friends.

Friendship for the rainy days,
And talking work about work and torque,
And other Physics theories, ways,
Ways to think of floating dust,
Ways to think of flying rays,
And He is with me for all days,
To be a friend, a help and laugh,
To be a physics kid and walk His path,
For me to smile in rainy days,
In other houses where his kingdom advances.

Talk the truth,
And people seem to look away,
Others gaze into your eyes,
Others seem to sway between,
But all in all the land is firm,
Under your feet and mine and the other's,
And as we talk we both seem to know:
Though confusion obscures the truest thoughts,
We stand on common ground to speak.

The art of play,
Sits deep in the core of friendly relations,
And warms the heart,
And heats the cheeks,
Lining lips with rows of pearly teeth,
And a maker stands to watch and nods,
Good, good, very good,
Snug as peas in a pod,
Crafted to be just as they are in moments like these.

A clacking tactile snap resounds,
And wooden bricks are stacked on high,
And laughter guides these leaning towers.

A little tap wacks at the loose-looking blocks,
All to find a delightful tug,
That leaves the tower toppling not.

Praise God for joyous, blood-tied delight,
With placed people to share good game,
And to hear of hard days and light stories too.

Talking heads,
Utter crisp syllables,
In quest of articulated clarity,
A common desire for understanding,
And they walk the streets paved by similar wanderers from ages past,
Who too wished for understanding and knowledge,
Who too wished for truth and clarity,
O Great towering walls and deepest libraries,
Do you contain such lofty things?

Talking to a hurried face,
Too many times passed and not held in conversation,
Now they talk,
Opening up about their passion,
Cracking the frozen surface on their interesting thoughts,
They too have many stories to tell,
And he loves them dearly.

Fake cash lies chaotically on the joyous cloth,
Colour and money splayed on the table,
A little card here and some metal figures there,
All is awash in laughter and cheering.

The bruised and battered sit as friends,
For friends they are,
Deep friends,
True friends.

And friends they’ll stay,
For salt and light love to sit and be,
Good friends with them,
For they were made beautifully.