butterflies and moths display their dust proudly and without apology
each speck of the stuff adds new facets of light and color
new dimensions of growth and repose
unlike the snail, these creatures do not carry their homes on their backs,
but rather their stories
a tear in the left wing in memory of rebirthing,
a blur of deep red for all the times that they bled,
and a streak of blue for each time they stayed true
such a short lifespan for a creature that reminds us humans
of the fragility, beauty, and fleeting nature of the life we are given
wearing scars like blue ribbons
and silently departing before we ever get the chance
to appreciate them and their elegant dance

I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.

A glint of midnight’s light catches a dagger
In crimson, he etched tales of wicked horror
Undertones of his usual demented swagger
Admissions, not of guilt, but rather of passion
Crimes rendered reality in gory fashion
Frantic strokes punctuate sobs of rage
Guilt sealed with blood from the blade
So that those evening massacres would never fade

An empty coffee mug.....
  
Could evoke impending sadness
between you and the empty vessel,
are some private, reflective moments

It could mean,
it is time for you to stand up,    
away from the coffee table
and start your daily grind
face another day in your life...

An empty coffee mug
could lead to
the end of a long exhausting day
the end of a conversation
the end of a relationship :(

Coffee is gone,
lots of things have to be done
maybe, It is time to leave an old life
old beliefs, give away old clothes, old books
some goodbyes have to be said
to old friends gone...old self, and
to old pricking, stabbing pain...
move to another house, for a new life
new opportunities, new friends
new surroundings, await

Each season segues to the next
yellow-green, brown, fuschia pink
red-orange, purple, even aqua-blue
slowly, but surely, they all turn to gray
the lovely colors of Spring,
Summer and  Autumn,
become ashen...and die
but... after a while, they surely give way,
a springing of new life
could never be held at bay
.......................................
out of the coffee shop
or maybe, outside your room...just stop,
it could be a stretch from your scope of view
you are faced with the birthing of everything new
there is sun shining
for sure.....a moon rising
.........................................

An empty coffee mug
could mean,
the end of your break time
stop wallowing
quit postponing
focus back on work and
things to be prioritized
now is the time...got to move on.....


Sally

Copyright September 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

---

i

blue grey clouds
of crushed
velvet

sunlight
tears
the
seams


ii

embers of
delicate peach
ignite flames
of fuchsia

the orb of
sun burns colors
away to ashes

blown into floes
of white
mare's
tails


iii

tiny bird
settles restless
on the
highest
branch

flits
away


iv

wind
through
the weathered stones
cries then whispers

luring
the children
who lie within our ribs
to break free
and sing
songs
of
play


v

mamalaria
cactus
wears her
wreath
of
pale
lavender
flowers

sings to
her babes
clustered
below

saguaro
listens



soulsurvivor
(C) 9/13/2015

CRESENT OF SINS
full and half empty bottles of beer;
scattered broken glasses,
deranges the cracked brown hued floor
music gales from an old c.d changer
inebriated guzzler mumbles in incoherent murmur
denuded nubile cavorts merrily
their sleek oiled frame shimmering in the fuzzy light
ghoulish **** silhouette walks in fluid and sinuous manner
fog like smoke chokes the room
marijuana and cigarette smoke amalgamates
swirling up merged into an eternal marriage
heels clad trollops clatters in the room
swaying their assets provocatively
boozers gapes intently with hazy eyes
raising their neck in unison
they ogle at the lure with entranced lust
two vague humanoid shapes lurks in a corner
moans escaping in raspy staccato
musk,*****,drugs defines this room
besotted species lie on filthy squalid floor
vocalizing dirge melodies
lost in muddled blur
dancers prances up and down
crushing cans and glasses in spirited tempo
yelling their lungs out
as the music drown their voices and worries
deep in the gist of the city
irrational rants emanates from every angle
sundry light floods the clear night
as merry goers sip cheap and expensive liquor
sloven hookers milks cash from patrons
the night conceal this cresent of sins
everyone is on a business
the party continues
the music get more stentorian
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
[{chronicles of the dumb speaker}]