Nero fiddled while Rome Burned,
the fires set at his bequest. And
Trump plays golf while no one
steers our Ship of State and
thousands of Americans die from
his wanton dereliction of duty,
lacking even an once of human
empathy or concern. A common
trait of Mad Kings Dictators Fools.
Trump knows he lost the election,
he is just running his last great con
on his brain dead believers, the forever
Snake Oil Salesman picking the pockets
of his faithful follower rubes, to pay his
mounting debts and feather his nest.

In these two self anointed emperors
I can see very little difference, one
just as evil and bad as the other.

We sat at the feet of the morning
Kissing the glory of the dawn
Eerie clouds in colours of victory
Assurance of power in the airs
Welcoming us to glory in splendor.

Tell us not that the party is done
As darkness knocking steely
Vowing to swallow the morning
But in this enterprise, we know
The light'll outwit the dark.

Time, iconic and iconoclastic force
Raging to devour all oppositions
Defying their force of gravity
To bring them to routing defeat!

Do not dig me out
for the seedling cannot
sustain itself
under the weight
of your pressure
it needs sustenance
for growth and
bread from the moon

i watch you lick
your ashen lips
I am as thirsty
and have seen
the clear waters
but drink me
instead

i keep a tiger's
eye below my breast
just in case I lose the nerve
to enter you
my beautiful labyrinth
your glance
speaks hard
like diamond jewels

come and dazzle
the way

Oh my dearest Life,
Oh soul of mine,

Oh heart!

Imperfect within this mortal coil,
Within our ribs—a cage,
Perfectly attuned to love and hate
To sky and soil,
The rage of dying days...

Oh how like the wind that craves
to rush with sighs,
To fly, to wish,
My yearning dreams doth the same
For substances of lips
Made flesh from kiss
As corporeal
Your touch since, missed
Lingers still ...

Oh when I close my eyes
How perfect my ignorant bliss
Oh I pine to fly
Away from the ache of this

My imagination's lovely will
And lovelorn heart,
Fallen apart and untouched still...
Influenced by a fantasy
A childish kind of mind, of flesh,
Eyes blind.  With much brevity

The beauty of Days' caress
Brilliant in its levity
Poetic in might :
The heart's glowing light!

Oh Beloved!
Oh divine destiny,
Infinite and true
Keep close my soul
To find always you...
Oh ever after
Ignite my starry wish
Beyond this mortal flesh

Oh heart
Oh soul
Oh heaven in my chest!
I love you still
(And always will)

Even unto death...

the town i was born in wasn't big enough
to contain the vastness of my dreams
so i moved out
i spent hours upon hours on the bank of river yamuna
looking for a sign
completely forgetting that a dead river can't speak
i misunderstood its silence for an invitation
so i moved in
i traded my inner peace for smoke filled air
and my innocence for the facade of a happy woman
delhi, i spent years of my life trying to fit in
to make sure that i belong
then why do the stares on the streets
tell me that i don't
delhi why have you been so cruel to me
like a failed mother forcing her expectations on her daughter
no matter what i did
i was never good enough
every time i tried to speak
you just didn't want to hear
you're a city trying to hide its deafness from its people
delhi why are you so unfair?
you throw stones at the workers that build you
and bow down at the feet of your destroyers
maybe you're just as confused and tired as me
people have taken more from you than you could give
so you stand exhausted, defeated and short of breath
and i do the same
for both of us have failed miserably
i could never be your daughter
and you could never be my home

For all the lies you told
          While laying in an empty bed-
          You were never so good
          As you were,
          The night you floated away

                    You were like a stone,
                    Hit upon another stone,
                    Echoing through an empty hallway-
                    Your broken soul
                    Was only good
                    For breaking souls
            
                                              ­              You hurled glass-heavy bricks
                                                          ­  Through my empty windows,
                                                        ­    Tied on with love-notes,
                                                     ­       Penned foul with fetid ink
                                                            A­nd left-
                                                           ­ Only to confuse the masses
                                                          ­       Of sad, stupid, people

                                        You built a paper-tiger army-
                                        Made to rush through flames,
                                        At the Chicago Fire battlefield
                                        You set in my heart,
                                        While children sold a solemn pitcher
                                        Of kerosene-laced gasoline-
                                        For every thirsty watcher

You bled out oxygen,
And complained,
When you nor I
Could breathe.
My bandage never had a hope,
Or chance to adhere

                                                         ­                You spoke a tragic song
                                                            ­             Like a caged bird-
                                                           ­              Beating wings ******
                                                          ­               Against a solid freedom
                                                         ­                That you would rob from me

                                           You swung away from truth-
                                           Only the harshest reality
                                           Was a gift worth giving to me
                                           Much like an orphaned child,
                                           Handed a tattered box,
                                           Unwrapped to find a broken toy
                                           Who would never find a use

(  
     )


In the silence of cold, quiet,
after midnight hours...wind
audibly pushes branches and
leaves...sends them swaying
and rustling....i hear the rain
falling...like small nails hitting
the neighbor's acrylic eave.

the peace of these unholy hours
empowers me...i feel, i rule the world,
my senses and my mind are sharpest..
while others are asleep and dreaming.

everyone's eyes are closed...mine, too,
yet, i am so awake, i see this cauldron,
where my life's goings-on are stirred by
an unknown force, spinning clockwise,
simmering, nothing burns, or breaks,
for, underneath, its fire burns slow...

good and bad issues mix and join
the stew of old stubborn ones;
daily rigors, wee triumphs blend in,
like a goulash of meat and veggies,
slowly cooking, as fire burns slow,
giving time...............taking time
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
::::::::::::::::::::::­­:::::::::::::::::::
the strong aroma of arabica jolts me
from my reverie...it matters not if i
haven't slept......6 am, i'm back to
reality.....lots of work await me
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
::::::::::::::::::::­­:::::::::::::::::::
five-pm past, arabica again stands by
me as i watch the orange fires of sunset,
hear the crickets sing, or a frog's croak,
while my rocking thoughts are cradled,
while i enjoy some peace and quiet,
exuded by a fragrant twilight.....it's
that feel-good part of each day...saying
gratitude for every sunrise and sunset,
while my candle's fire burns slow....
........
......
...

Sally

©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
  January 6, 2021