the boy that lived in the streets
not older than 12
he only had himself
and a couple of cents
struggling to find home
or even another day
he's sleeping in the front page of the New York Times

Our unfamiliar encounter
At the corner of the street
Clueless
stillness in gaze

This is where we first met
I remember
Stars overhead tangled
Like fate

autumn rain autumn
somewhere on the streets somewhere
on the pavement somewhere on the arches
both in squares and near monuments
and near the boulevards and near the square

and what is that I see again
and I see the grave fog again
really again again is he
it comes it's about autumn rain again
swims like a fish that was yesterday

17.11.18

Invisible

They walk the city streets, invisible.
Everyone looks away, afraid to see.
Afraid that they themselves may
one day have to say, “It’s me.”

They dig through garbage bins,
and everyone looks away in disgust.
To eat and strengthen the body
is nit a little thing - it is a must.

Invisible and hated, street people

In the dark streets of
unhappy endings,
where needles numb the
pain in a dying vein.
The missing and the lost
light the skies
as colours flash and dance,
waving their goodbyes.

High above dear Maple Street
There looms a cold iron curtain of fear
That dares to drop and let all the monsters
Unleash their dreaded promise of chaos
As in Europe despots gift a new World War
Trembling parlors hug the radio

Hallows Eve: the radio
Begins to sing throughout dear Maple Street
The Seventh Trumpet declares all out war
And that heavy iron curtain of fear
Eclipses the sun and invites chaos
In vacant hearts of men into monsters

Halloween Night: the monsters
Now dance to the tune of the radio
Raiding the stores, jumping bridges, chaos
Entombing the stretch of this blood strewn street
Parlors gorging on endless waves of fear
Riding hysteria, imminent war

O great catalyst of war
Twisting the minds of men into monsters
Diving your hands in that great pit of fear
Now throbbing with screams from the radio
No fences nor faces can save Maple Street
Now plunged in the throes of sweet sultry Chaos

And we call it Chaos
This boiling of minds all stewing with war
Once masked with humanity on this street
Now reveals good neighbors make great monsters
Skies of martians (n)or men, the radio
Hissing, twists the knobs and tunes in to fear

And when that curtain of fear
Draws, and shadeless light casts on the chaos
And the broadcast fades on the radio
And mere fiction rescinds the throne of war
What will we make of all of these monsters
Scattered about in a daze through the street

Where there are minds of fear and war,
Chaos reigns and calls to the sleeping monsters;
Tune in to Welles’s radio on Sterling’s street.

We took quiet steps down a lonely street
I had never stepped foot in before.
The air felt tense since it was
more than clear that you didn't feel
like talking, not anymore.
You stopped suddenly and backed me
against a wall.
We made out slowly whilst I felt
an old lady watching us from her
front steps, maybe I was just imagining her
since it was time for me to go,
I had to meet up with my friends.
Two steps forward and you stopped again
looking at me with a shy smile and
intertwined our hands.
My palms were sweaty and my rings
poked at your skin but you insisted that
you didn't care.
It was also the last time
we held hands.
- hand holding.