Black blotches dry on the brim of the
Yellow paper.
This pen cannot breathe tonight.
It's tired of your sad love letters.

Barricade yourself behind sheet thin walls:
you have a lover and his lust.
A velvet rope will suffice.
As delicate as your skin.
As sinful as your tricks on her heart.
You pestilent child.
Your lies as thick as her favorite book.
Lies converge with truth on black nights.
One covers the other.
I could never tell what is what or who is who.
The city stands over you and stares, shamefully.
Those tricks are the work of the devil.
Those sins are perfected by man.
Caress her skin and lie upon her.
Finish what you started.
Every stroke is a lie, a crime, best seen blind.

I wake up in a dream
and see you smiling,
in the kingdom of slumber
you are my only queen.

We saw hundreds of human skulls,
bleached,
lined up in in neat tidy rows
amongst the dunes.
Each had in bullet hole
right in the middle of the top of their heads.
We figured each person was lying face down when they got the fatal shot.
Then they were left dead there,
fully clothed,
to rot
in the hot desert sun.
They say,
what you don't know
won't hurt you.
But now that you do know,
do you feel anything?

As I call upon the night
To have a conversation
Darkness gives way
And night comes alive
Conscious mind at rest
Sub-conscious takes over
Memory box is brimming
So many anecdotes
Not afraid to emerge
Confident around the dark
Shying away from the day
Night has a life of its own
Feeling antsy and inundated
Quivering hands open the box
Full of pictures in sepia
A retrospective of events
Which were long buried
Sleep has abandoned me
Old memories keep me awake

I
a derelict
crumbling, was picked to
come tumbling down.

On the way I stopped to say,
the view was quite good.
(trees for the wood)
comes to mind but I was blind to that near and
only feared from afar.

Falling is not quite the calling that I thought it would be,
the ground being ground
was much harder than me and
it hurt when I hit.
A destitute,
no parachute
no surprise.

Rolled tight and sealed
with my lips this pome
I wrote for you
and placed inside a bottle
Tide is going out
as the sun is setting
with a pome inside a bottle
and you still on my mind
Blue winds and waves
will bring it to you
This pome inside a bottle
Just another love song
like the ones we used to listen to
as the moon rose o'er the ocean
watching the tide come in.

r ~ 7/25/14

I was crowded by the beggars

One of them said," Lovers are the melancholic beggars".