PAST THE GARDEN GATE

pappa called me from L.A.
one day late July
it was 3A.M. pacific time
it was 4 A.M. when he died

mamma passed one winter day
I was by her side
she kissed my hand
to say good-bye

my mind cannot understand
beyond what it can measure
time has stolen the years
and I count my moments in memory and tears

I want to go home again
past the garden gate
through the side door
and hold someone I loved
once more.

In the progress of our works
We see the hands that create
Building structures for our use
Imagine the Sole creating force
That made all with you and me

As we wonder in awe
From grief of unwanted losses
Imagine phantom hues of decay
The might of destroying waves
That takes unwarily from us

These hands are right and left
Connected to one and the same
The twins we wrongly interpret
Be it birth or death combined
In rebirth, according to the law

route wend
when night bends
churlish pleasure
the dark sin treasure

come to be bruise balmed
and bedecked with calm
your scars your wounds
the flesh stiched tracer
your night shawled look

you had me at "Babe"
this soothing full drawl
and how you take me
out from the beautiful
carnage
this haunted ruin
inhabitation
calibrated with pains
and painted with
tears

this tumultous
dissaray

The lies are dressed
In little pinks tutus.

The scorn is ready
For the masquerade.

The canary in the mine
Turns out to be
A hummingbird.

The butterfly in my tummy,
A bee.

The laugh really is
A stiffled moan;
The tear is shed for sorrow.
The sun is gone because the night
Will breed a bleaker tomorrow

The lies are dressed
In little pinks tutus.

The scorn is ready
For the masquerade.

The canary in the mine
Turns out to be
A hummingbird.

The butterfly in my tummy,
A bee.

The laugh really is
A stiffled moan;
The tear is shed for sorrow.
The sun is gone because the night
Will breed a bleaker tomorrow

Sirens.
Night and day. Day and night,
interrupting the silence with its severe music.
It's the city and we share the same space. C-town
never sleeps in its emergent paths; what makes
news, to whom and who cares enough to go along
for the ride.

The world, my friend, is a long-distance runner, running until
there's no more time. Don't we hold on to each second like
unwilling warriors, consoling the hours?

We all have to learn
The nuances
Of how to pave our ways
Through this poetic site

You rarely visit my page
Gradually you shall become
As adept as I have,
To meander the courses here,
Like a serpent avoiding
The machinations of wiles

So let be it your stance too,
You will learn a trick or two,
Praise is all we hanker for,
No not I alone, nor you
Is an exception, that’s true?

Gently disintegrate me
Said nothing at all.
 
Is there still time to say
Said I myself lying
In a bower of bramble
Into which I have fallen.
 
Look through my eyes up
At blue with not anything
We could have ever arranged
Slowly taking place.
 
Above the spires of the fox
Gloves and above the bracken
Tops with their young heads
Recognising the wind,
The armies of the empty
Blue press me further
Into Zennor Hill.
 
If I half-close my eyes

The lantern of the sky shows up there
Its brilliance shines down here
Everybody stood up and rejoice
For the king’s torch has come around

Tok–odo–dio… tok-odo–dio
Children troop to the play ground
Young men clap their hands
The girls sing and dance along

Dance and choose somebody
Point to the one after your heart
Select those with very long legs
Select those with big stomach

Dance and choose somebody
Select those with big heads
Select those with fine faces
Point to the one after your heart

It was a strange turn of affairs
We had seen each other a few times
In the local pub
Spoken a couple of times
In the street
She was attractive
No, not attractive
Absolutely gorgeous
Way out of my league
So I thought,
She had taste
She had style
And, the body of a goddess
Then, out of a clear blue sky,
Actually it was night time,
She held my hand
Squeezed it gently
I turned
Looked into her eyes,
Suddenly I saw
And that was it
Pow!
I was
Smitten