Monthly Archives: September 2013

Time has gone by, curling up like a cat

 

Time has gone by, curling up like a cat bundling,

against that cold music-less time,

between the afternoon and the evening.

Here on these streets, it is now too late for those five or six years of bliss I imagined,
But not too late for three or maybe two
Yes those four were wasted. It doesn’t matter, time stands still anyway-

Here, a year or even less would seem like an eternity.
These are the good years, the ones never expected that you live for
They are taken, not given,

(carved), Like some pleasure crafted from the stone of neediness. Is it needy to want air?

You have to cut at it with something hard, not with expectation,

But harder-

like truth you’ve never known.
They’re not given, but they might be found
A rare (rose) flower you pluck from a forbidden garden.

And doesn’t it feel right?
I should think it might last for a year, at least to the next winter.

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It’s A Scene

 

She comes in

I could watch her enter many times

Purse down the counter calling

Put a drink here

Open up, shed some bills

Let the cash change hands once

Twice

The steaming coffee in a cup goes down

Trades sides, gives in, to the pressures

Of conformity

Stays hidden in his vessel, meek but

Piping

More on you later

A jabber jaw strains

(tries hard, crashes, feels the pains)

She’s bending down

Loose change loose everything

I catch a glimpse in a mirror

Lipstick contrivance observance

Culture, vulture

The cup has followed her and

enters a mouth

Legs swoop- scissor over a chair,

It goes to work without a fight

The normal force, pushing her back

Not even something obscene just

caffeine and it’s a scene, at six fifteen.

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Substance Emoting

What am I to do with all of it?

He regards the yard full of strange stuffs

These skills he learnt all these

years ago. Those quiddities. Those talents of yesteryear.

They’re like parts of machines idle now, but they’re

meant to do things.

Nay, I wanted to do something

good with what I had in my head.

So I thought I’d throw it back at them.

In ways they could not have foreseen. Make their devices

Of reason and logic contort and strain until unrecognizable.

They tried to make me conform, to their ways

I never did. Now I will return

I’m not a conformed entity, a liquid

substance following a mold

I am substance emoting

Everted content revealing and stripping molecules down

To their former purposes, and reprogramming them. And spelling it all out.

I learned well crossing inhospitable places- the value- of a self contained purpose and the hardened

self determinate.

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