Earthly time is fine despite Death
The eternal dark out of which
Shadows creep sparking illusions
That hold sway over dreams.
I came from darkness
To store the burning Light
That echoes the yells of creation
Toward some demotic destiny.
Achievements soothe so little
Within the web of eclectic waste
We tend to call societies
Run by the elite undergrowth
Who pay no heed to evergreens.
It was only yesterday
When i first went to school
When i tasted my first cigarette
My first beer, first *******
When i wrote my first poem
And many things in between
Well, out of long list of vices
Only cigarettes have survived
And they probably will
Till my stiff body
Touches the cramped coffin.
Scoop me up Ursa
In your *****
My spirit shall bask
Playing heavenly marbles
Within the volatile void.

It's absurd!

They isolated me
at the coffee morning

I had a vision
of everything going wrong

I didn't say a word

I gave them fickle fables
Far from forging truths
Fair young women
With facades cast over
Their fear-filled eyes
As they realize
There is no fairy tail
For fabricated dreams
No Prince Charming
Will fall for them
It is the princess fallout
That happens to
All folly young women

9/21/2019

The leaf spreads
lungs of the earth

cloaking summer skies
from squinting eyes

but does it live for
that one gentle flight
of autumn, floating
to the ground
a few brief moments
of freedom

Glamour, health and politics,
are ideal morning topics
blending well with hot coffee,
and, these early risers...share openly
their impassioned accounts, simultaneously
seething, with a dark and strong bubbling sea,
making the most, out of a few hours of bonding,
breakfasting, after morning chi kung
(sometimes, with family, reuniting...)
they have moved with the times and days,
subscribing to both old and acceptable new ways...
anger and dislike are voiced gently
no despair hidden...i believe, not a tad of ennui,
.......surely...

these ladies have no fancy hats,
flowered, feathered, or with colored tats
no jewels crown their heads...........just
plain hair: black, brown, long or bobbed,
no pearls grace their necks.....or gloves
that are trimmed, to hide overworked
hands, or wrinkled knuckles......they're
past their golden years, prim and proper,
their own sets of rules are flames burning,
steam rising, like those of coffee brewing
deep in their minds...their values, churning,
their inner beauty, transcending...

their mornings are like a coffee maker,
brimming with bubbles and dark swirls,
tamed, paled in mugs, when cream is added in twirls...
complex issues considered taboo,
sometimes, even plain tattoos
are discussed in hushed tones
voices agree or disagree...until froth is gone
and bubbles have simmered down...

the hours are fleeting, time passes so swiftly
one has gone...but these enterprising ladies
excitedly plan ahead, for their next assembly...

Sally

Copyright November 2, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan