Father, now waddling

from left to right, seems to walk --


on spherical feet.

In the hospital

lounge he takes a seat and falls --


asleep exhausted.

Splashing, dashing waves

in the shoaled harbour: a ship --


it is sailing past.

Out of fashion, out-dated
there's no help for it, so let me be
unattractive, rejected
because I show myself so conspicuously
and attract attention needlessly

That's how I'm seen. I am seen
and the whispering amuses me
although nobody talks to me

And you let me wait again
until the reception calls
that you are there

So I just sit here
looking out the window
I am used to it, there is nothing to see
at the back of the hotel
and it is getting dark

You always were impatient
My make-up took too long for you
and you sat angry in the car

but if I behaved exactly
the way you had conceived
you could really be sweet

It’s often I’d look unto the past,
a world of wonders not meant to last,
of joys forgotten, the die long cast,
of memories drifting and fleeing fast.

It's often I'd think of us,
moments of still quiet, mixed with triumphant fuss,
where peace would find me, where I'd be allowed to trust,
It's only then, when the hammer falls, that I'm struck by loss,

It's often that I think of dying,
that sleep may find me, without us goodbyeing,
the surplus of a lifetime, relatives crying.
But above all, that not enough time was spent trying.

her sun spots bragged of
summers spent reckless
and her silver locks of
once box dyed glory.
her drooping skin bragged of
first kisses and a hundred men’s touch—
from her so-called “glory days.”
her plump figure bragged of
children bore and
lovers loved and
a thousand lives lived.
in this old age I deemed her ageless—
having lived more in one lifetime
than most could dream to do in four.

The doctor wavers,

he sighs and looks through me, so --


I already know.

The old goat just stares

at me, I realise this --


is what is farewell.

How many days could I count that I have left to me?
Would I dare to count, knowing that finite they must be?

I know that there are far fewer than when it all began.
None the wiser am I, as to whether it was to some plan.

I find I have come to ponder the complex and the small.
To wonder if there be a purpose or just no point at all?

Why be given to the thoughts and give time to such things?
Looking for answers but deepest thoughts no answer brings.

Why give the imagining to some ethereal immortal goal,
and wrap it up so fragile in such a flimsy mortal soul?

Were there ever choices that I made as I took life's risk?
Or was it all pre-recorded on some universal Blu-ray disc?

I know the day's sun is setting, another day so newly passed,
Mortal mind taunts me, in the tally, will tomorrow be my last?

I was young, I went

to experience grand beauty
on hands of success, now
I walk on clouds

of electric light
glitter and admiration
celebrating my retirement

in the heaven of parties
star among the stars
smiling beautiful people

pearls, botultox and gel
in semi-gray hair, tireless
in time to the brass

nobody needs to go to the toilet
we are hovering over the beds
in which despair tosses and turns

because of the days and the years
of unsuccessful lives, and we dance
the conga since we are going

nowhere