Hand holding,
Cigarette smoking,
Spiced gin drinking,
And bare flesh touching...
Y o u  h a d  m e.
(Only for 24 hours,
But that’s more than most get)

24 hour boyfriend,
The perfect relationship.
One complete day of undivided lust and adoration.
It almost felt like I loved you.
Sharing souls and secrets and your king sized bed,
I  h a d  y o u.
That loving gaze, the sweet whispers;
It made me sick

In an early morning, half-drunk haze,
Your skin wouldn’t let go of mine,
Your smile asked me to stay,
And your sleepy eyes told me you wanted more…
You whispered you loved me,
I clenched my eyelids shut and pretended to sleep.
I could never love you.

I’m sorry,
But your 24 hours is up.

**, love can be verily romantic!
Howbeit let me warn thee, prithee,
It can also be terribly traumatic
For a fancy guy and a pretty popsy
Who felll headlong in love confusion,
The outcome of their lust's delusion.

I smiled today
a genuine kind of smile
the kind of smile that is produced
when a flower looks up at you
but then guilt reminded me
that I am not allowed to be
something of such beauty
so I washed it all away in the sink
(back to normal)
-

Already over the sea from her old spouse she comes,
the blonde goddess whose frosty wheels bring day.
Why do you hurry, Aurora? Hold off, so may the birds
shed ritual blood each year for Memnon's shade.
Now it's good to lie in my mistress's tender arms;
if ever, now it's good to feel her near.
Now drowsiness is richest, the morning air is cool,
and birds sing shrilly from their tender throats.
Why do you hurry, dreaded by men and dreaded by girls?
Draw back your dewy reins with your crimson hand.
The sailor marks the stars more clearly before you rise,
not raoming aimlessly across the sea;
the traveller, though weary, arises when you come,
and the soldier sets his savage hand to arms;
you're first to see the farmers wield their heavy hoes
and to call slow oxen under the curving yoke;
you rob boys of their sleep and give them over to schools,
where tender hands must bear the savage switch;
and you send reckless fools to pledge themselves in court,
where they take ruinous losses through one word;
the lawyer and the pleader take no delight in you,
for each must rise and wrangle with new torts;
and you ensure that women's chores are never done,
calling the spinner's hands back to her wool.
All this I'd bear; but who would bear that girls must rise
at dawn, unless himself he has no girl?
How many times I've wished Night would not yield to you,
the stars not fade and flee before your face!
How many times I've wished the wind would smash your wheels,
your steeds would stumble on a cloud and fall!
Jealous, why do you hurry? If your son is black,
it's since his mother's heart is that same color.
How I wish Tithonus could still tell tales of you:
no goddess would be more disgraced in heaven.
Since he is endless eons old, you rise and flee
at dawn to the chariot the old man hates,
but if some Cephalus were lying in your arms,
you'd cry out, 'O run slowly, steeds of night! '
Why should this lover pay, if your husband withers with age?
Was I the matchmaker who brought him to you?
Remember how much sleep was given to her loved youth
by Luna - and she's beautiful as you.
The father of gods himself, to see you all the less,
joined two nights into one for his desires.
I'd finished my complaint. You could tell she'd heard: she blushed;
and yet the day rose at its usual time.

A paradox in itself
But then I saw her there across
the room
through flocks and flocks of 'beautiful'
silly seagulls --
              frivolously flocking,
                                            pecking at
the shiniest trash that flutters by
Only to swallow
pass
flock, peck again
-----------------------------------------------------------­---
She intrigued my mind
   through
the eye I saw her beak was flat                                y
no craning,
                  crooning neck                                   l
                                           and could not f
for she had no wings
... maybe we do not care to fly!
------------------------------------------------------------­--
Like the Red Sea
She-Moses split through the flock
to me,
beakless
surrounded by chronically cocking faces
all but one,
                                                            ­          all alone
She had been                                                     too
-------------------------------------------------------------­
Now next to me
                                                              ­                                        No wandering eye could care
in soundless conversation
proclaimed we
                       are together
as one we surely gleamed as gold
too bright for gulls to see
              ...Mastur-consolation?
------------------------­-------------------------------------
And so it's true
we were                   alone
                               together
perfect paradoxical bliss

What does a man do
On his very last day?
Does he call his best friend,
to lie a hello?
Does he open a drink,
for drunken last breaths?
Does he hug his children,
and say they were best?
Does he hide in a cellar,
just waiting for Death's knock?
Does he write a few things,
hints and advice?
Does he find those who wronged him,
and take them along?
The wise man will sit there,
like there's nothing wrong.
He ponders his days,
things once, things past,
holds his love dearly,
sweet, beautiful love,
giving him hope,
that there is this 'above',
though pain creeps in,
he smiles yet still,
life plays like a record,
1941-1992,
But yet, 1941 is not where it had begun,
He remembers it clear from 1947,
And he has forgotten much from the last 3 years,
but what he did, he does not fear,
he accepts what he's done, laughs a good laugh,
forgetting what he'd do, if given a second path,
So this my friends, may I say it clear,
Do not stare long at that first year,
and do not think much of that last,
for what was done is done, and all in that dash.

Positive thinking
or negative thinking?
Or think real?
Then clear thinking and
straight thinking
divergent thinking
and radiant thinking
convergent thinking and
dynamic thinking
rational thinking
scientific thinking
or no-thought thinking
God-mind thinking
or free-thinking
Oh for goodness’ sake! –
*just think!

Prologue
see, do you see?
Judy and Punch
are shopping
Like the loving couple they are
they are at it together

Action!
Punch puts in a carton of beer
into the trolley
And Judy hauls it out immediately
and puts it back on the shelf –
It’s too expensive, honey
says Judy.  $50 a carton, that’s too much money


Now Judy is in the “Beauty” section
and picks a Beauty Pack for $100
and Punch protests immediately:
That’s what’s too much money!

Oh, but you do want
me to look beautiful, darling –
don’t you? says Judy, with a smile

Yeah, sweetheart,
but half the price
would have done the trick!
says Punch, with a counter-smile


Epilogue**
Now, what do you think
happens after Punch’s punch line?
Do you think Judy makes
the literal and the metaphorical merge?
Are the stars Punch sees literal
or figurative, you think?

1
Tap, tap, tap
Pinch and expand
Pinch and expand
Tap, tap, tap

I love this dance you do
my dearies, each one of you
on your mobiles and devices
We too play with our fingers
and keep our eyes fixed
on your pockets and purses
and wallets

Tap, tap, tap
Pinch and expand
Pinch and expand
Tap, tap, tap
Stay diverted -
we love this what you do,
me Fagin
and all me children
and Jack Dawkins too,
that Artful Dodger

2
Come on, dear children of Fagin mine
this here is Paradise
All these people with eyes
and fingers on their devices
and brains in idle mode
in these crowded malls -
it’s our Paradise, dear babies mine
Whilst they are so preoccupied
let’s to our devices
And we can pick, pick, pick
whilst they tap, tap, tap

3
Ah ha, keep tapping on your mobiles
each one of you, my dearies
with your eyes on the mobile
when at the shops and in crowds
and at new year celebrations
Keep your eyes there, indeed
each one of you, my dearies
Tap, tap, tap
pinch and expand with 2 fingers on the screen
eyes mostly there on your devices
Tap, tap, tap
pinch, pinch, pinch  
and  let your *******
burst like shooting stars
All like a dance, as in a dance
each one of you in public spaces,
my dearies
so do the merry dance of your fingers
and eyes on the devices
And we?
We love this, me Fagin
and all me children
and Jack Dawkins too
(that Artful Dodger)
while You
tap, tap, tap
and we
pick, pick, pick
at this our harvest at shopping malls

over the fence
my neighbor asks me:
Where are you from?

My passport says
I’m Citizen,
I reply
It also records where I was born
but really, I’m from deep inside

Neighbor does not chat to me anymore
and seeing me on our walks
Neighbor nods warily
and crosses over to the other side

Could you be polite to people?
my wife admonishes me daily

But I’m puzzled
*Why don’t people want to know the truth?
I am, after all, from deep within
Aren't we all?