The facets of love.

I love you, and your face loves itself
for its perfect nose, green eyes and rosy lips
your fragrance has a narcissistic allure.
The way you walk, the pavements adore you
Rain shies away not to make your hair wet.
I love you, and your face loves itself.
When you cross the street horn bleats
by themselves, white cars turn pink
your fragrance has a narcissistic allure.
The sun doesn’t burn your skin makes
it golden glows in the dark
till one day the mirror tells of a wrinkle
you know years are ganging on you
your enemy is time, wait in the wings
The furrows settle on your forehead
I love you but your face doesn’t love itself
Car horns do not blare anymore
Get off the road, you lazy old woman.
Your fragrance of youth has lost its allure.

What’s the time?

The dictator is obsessed with time
he has thousands of wrist-watches and wall clocks
showing the time in different time zones.
At noon, he checks the time zones if it is ten o’clock
Somewhere else, he adjusts his star-studded Rolex
In his mind, he has gained two extra hours.
The time is a must for the dictator, he is getting old
and fear the breath of the dead and the power.
He spends too much time alone, only seeing people
on the screen, political helpers consist of faces
Suspicious by nature, he tries to read if the faces
are treacherous trying to unseat him he needs total
loyalty to feel secure, he knows he is right they are
plotting against by fighting his war timidly yet know
if he falls, they will perish too.

The time gone

Do not spill my blood.
On wasteland
Do not bury my last scream
In a grave.
I will walk softly
Across the screen
Leave no trace.
Only a whisper.
In the years to come
You will hear an echo
Recalling my name.

It is a plant’s life.

Up in the continuous night, I saw a streak of light
a dying comet’s last hurrah.
Bedroom in darkness couldn’t sleep too much death
for one night.
Got up and read a book about plants speaking
to each other.
Warning, “heavy-footed human coming your way.”
“Duck, a lawnmower is going amok.”
Amputated roses and tulips chafes in a vase kept
alive for a few days, admire the agony of flowers.
Carrots scream when pulled up from the soil,
good for your health the dietician says.
Everything we do hurts someone, especially plants
except a few that can poison you.
Is my dentist a gardener of my teeth?

A cigarette

Dawn and the mist, what else expect
On Lake Martin early spring?
Swamp cypress dripping with Spanish moss.
I have stopped rowing, water swirling around
Oar blades.
The silence is absolute; I dare not inhale
A bird shrieks, the lake shudders
An evil thought has entered Paradise.
I hear the faint noise of outboard motors
The moment of ethereal stillness was gone,
I lit a cigarette smoke inhale, blow
Rings of delight in the morning air.

Wherefore
  
there is a question, philosophers and goat herders
have in common with the rest of us a modest multitude
the query is, what is the purpose of our life
from a single ***** cell to fighting its way to survival and life
and we ask for what purpose?
We know the outer shell of what we are is based on
the environment we live in, such as education and friends
we meet and dream about.
But the question remains, why are we survivors and what
is the purpose of life that often changes unplanned by us?
The cynical among us have an easy answer,
but they cannot tell you why they become suspicious and
why Adolf became ******.
The nearest answer I can think of is that life is a prelude
to a new existence, an astral life form free of ego and ownership
will not be asked, we are free
liberated of the life that weighed us down on earth.
God is not in this picture, an abstraction we give thanks to when a war ends
and pray to during a new war which is like wildfire
there are always conflicts that are not planned but just happen
on life on our planet.
humanity is like a lost child in an amusement park, the colours
of the blinking light are a warning, outside the park is dark we look
for guidance but cannot find the answer.

tabula rasa
when we are born a child has no memory
one can say clean slates, after a few days they pick up
the basic like crying when hungry
from there on we fill the baby with what we know
a knowledge handed down from our parents, and the child
when it learns to read beliefs without reflection
what they are told must be the truth.
sometimes the child has a new thought, and it says what if this
is not valid, that is when the memory it didn´t have
is remembered, something that is clean and true about the life
we live an illusion made up of a generation of lies told
to keep us docile, most children dismiss this idea and go on
playing football, but a few listens to the voice of verity
and not knowing how to shut up tell everyone that life is more
than they have ever imagined.
those children are embarking on a long track that sometimes
leads to jail terms and sometimes to an early death
by those who know they are speaking the truth but try to say
the child has a criminal mind.
the road ahead of the few is long, and there is no happy ending
except for the knowledge, they have given them comfort