workshop
The light ripples
as night comes
and falling
forever falling
I brush the satin
skirts of night,
I ease onto the black
bed of stars
Twirling galaxies
ignite on my palms
to stretch the universe
within my reach
a handful of moons
a brilliant milky way
lies within heavens
lost to our eyes
Rumors of shooting
stars fall in my sight
as I turned around
It was reflected in all
Ask citizens all over the world
to invite immigrants of a different race
(and/or religion)
to their homes on Sundays -
for lunch and then a chat.
They might enjoy the taste
of unknown recipes.
They might have fun
and soon make friends.
The man or woman on the street
does not want war...
Ask politicians (or better,
oblige them with a law)
to study compromise, fair play,
and how to just give in a bit
whenever possible...
lights lit up the streets
of Paris
and
London's streets
so also American
the American doll
of TIME SQUARE awaits
the one who adores
all gals are fair
some are tall
many small
I await the one who will last with me
no not as an American doll
but a pretty lovely one
for Lovedly
as Loved has gone...
technically
Hanging in an Orchard Glade…
They had a life till evil came along,
places to go, things to see and admire.
Both dreamt of lovers, of a gentle song,
instead they have their funeral pyre.
No other animal does this to it's kin,
yes they’ll fight when hungry for food.
As far as I’m concerned they win,
when battling man for common good.
These girls just happened to be there,
upon this same earth as you and I.
Then the imbeciles laid them bare,
two young lives hung out to die.
syrup in these crystalline
image
a spoon poised in amber
deep
swallowing the light
like the hand of night
an hours clasp
touching the pulse
like a black beetle
scrawled
legged
upon his throne
in a wire wound
the silence room
all starpowered
widths
on a hip of a forgotten
sleeper
are the words of a second
guessed dream
grasped
in a link
when morning
shattered
in
a new principle
of garments
from the corner
You may be born any day now, any hour even.
But here I am alone, just waiting,
with a mixture of trepidation
(having seen too many disasters)
and anticipation of a new age,
not old age exactly,
but grandpa age.
Just as long as all goes well
I may soon be able to teach you a little,
calmly, slowly but surely,
fruit of experience,
knowledge of one life at least.
readings denied
so I scratched your name in shale
alchemy of sand
You must have looked so good when you were young!
You still have shapely legs,
high cheekbones,
sparkling eyes,
a mischievous smile,
a neat figure,
slim neck,
strong shoulders...
You must have looked so good, but I can't remember you
as your were, unless, too occasionally,
I take down a photo album from its dusty shelf,
and there you are in your young glory,
making me feel that other men
must have envied me then
and perhaps they do now!
Many serious thoughts …cross one’s mind
when the need draws
some say it's normal,
just wait… others shed tears
what will happen
when I'm no more!
who shall whack my back
as I whine
who will say a bloody good man divine
and who will laugh and shout aloud,
gone is the self wallowing clown
then there aren't many dirty fish
In the ocean of life,
many suffer beyond variable strife
yet survive … some die
ere and ere…
but no one about them does care
ere they die somewhere
quite like an old man’s gaze
I thought I felt my shadow grow
as the survey extended to gash
the weighted blade sparing the bones
the sole horizon no longer pure
against marring pedestals of mud
which these hands hollow built
growing harder with each sun
seeking to silence the past
is of no use for the chamber swells
the reverberating echoes
live and shake the cracks
the only perpetual character
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