Boy with a special pair of eyes and other poems
By the time you’re sixteen
you know there is
something serious
It went wrong.
throw me out?
No, You can not.
Motherhood is not what they say
Still, it’s all you own.
So pray and pray.
A prayer for me:
So that you don’t see often
Blue bubble floats in the sky.
Oh, the dragonfly,
my only friend,
don’t bother me at night
And they encourage me to fly.
night is a time
could fly:
Dark white soft flakes.
Around my eyes.
Your warm morning hands
always bring me down
Only to find, I’ve become a child
Whom others call blind.
An essay on the domestic fight
See the burning air outside the window,
The reverse swing of a pendulum,
The wavy arches that carry flaming birds
See the reflection of your wicked pleasure
In the sacrifice of pregnant clouds
That pleasure shines on your grille
Where the soothing flashes of jungle fire
It’s shaking like your soul.
See what happens when a girl likes you
Anger over a man like me, lonely and delinquent.
a pair of feet
Right now this old footbridge
I took those light feet away
Without knowing who she was,
You know sadness can open
Some abrupt, subconscious third party.
It can open your heart, besides
The yellow growth of satanic nicotine.
A pair of petrified feet can open many dreams
(Mother for the last time saying “don’t go!”)
Prayed
(A casual fire tastes sad in an after taught)
The cold stone of the catwalk does not know
Nightmares, born under a cold star.
A plot of loneliness
Come closer, mischief; play with the empty air
Play with the little kitty that should have been on this mattress
Kiss on the forehead that would have descended from bliss
Have a drink from a non-existent cupboard
Warm your legs with cold logs of barren wood
Nobody, if nobody comes, I play alone.
With a puzzle scattered in the atmosphere
To complete a house that was never there.
the room inside
Have you ever seen the inner room?
In between each and every door
There’s another opening there, I can feel it.
Inside this very floor
that the old elevator reaches from time to time,
There is another floor, there is.
Brick within brick, structure within structure.
An existence under the mantle of another.
The sun passes through it
Shadow, there is none
Smoke and smog cannot outline it.
Soul within soul, brick within brick.
Crawl, float, swim, walk or fly
Right now I’m there, and wham, I’m not
I know, I am this room; in the middle, inside.
Fire takes over the mall
Fire takes over the mall
A building in hell.
Two stupid eyes were burned
Bell-ringing fighters, fire in their fatigue
All those incendiary ideas fly
Evaporated was the rebellion.
Burning bodies counted their births
How many more to the end of the roads!
All those incendiary ideas cry
Sacred Eyed Waters
If you had known this,
you will not have put
The slow time bomb.
An interpretation of history.
your feminine logic made me cry
Looking at the water you told me again
“Don’t you dare come near
To any devastating war.”
The perplexed sun fell on the earth
As a loose, amateurish pasta sauce.
Am I that far from a war?
It may be, but you should study our good tree
Standing there, what have you seen
passes of life and sin
Anyway, wood was a lousy teacher.
That they have learned better than to become
An eloquent speaker.
There I entered the fire, by the wrong way,
The war was just a speech, interrupted
Breaking the peace somehow achieved
To go further than any civilization can ever
Less eloquent, with all its logic so feminine.
Drift
The Beachwood was the last of our happy round.
When the whim turns on, we spend a night
In our salt, deep salt and salty ground salt.
Last of our poison, until death fell
We drank and made ourselves drink
we bite and we bite
And, there came a time when the sun stood still.
The love passed; the fight happened and the hate too
Now that we have mastered the fine art of looking beyond.