Clay Micallef

Clay Micallef 23h

I walk upon the earth
I pretend that I own it,
I see an army of ants
attacking a Mantis,
I watch it accept defeat,
it is silent in its prayer,
it is crippled in its faith,
my empathy is tested,
I whisper to its god,
give it a quick death!
but its god does not listen
it is slow and torturous,
I hold my breath as the
Mantis weeps. I see the
last leaf fall from a
winter Wisteria it is
naked and boney, it has
become ugly
in its nature …
Clay.M

Clay Micallef 1d

I Guess I Miss You

I happened to find myself
longing for some kind of
change, you were telling
me this in that little
cafe on the corner and
in that moment you left
you took away my breath
we were breathing
in the same air, now
it’s 2am and I’m drunk
again alone in this
two dollar room,
I open the widow and
look down at the street
and I try not to
think of you.
The neon signs flash
girls girls girls
as the radio plays
kind of blue,
the cigaret smoke
burns the back of
my throat as I
look down at the
holes in my shoes,
now I close all the blinds
and I turn off the lights
cause I don’t want to
face the day and
I, I won’t ignore
it’s true that I’m lost
and I know because
I’ve been here before,
and these days are
getting cold and if
the truth be told
I guess I miss you
I miss you …
Clay.M

Clay Micallef 2d

Slow Movement Of Clouds

I will sit here beneath
the warmth of the sun
I will listen to the slow
movement of clouds
I am comfortable in the
way that time always
leaves me behind
and when I grow old
I hope I grow into
some kind of stranger
in a sleepy village at the
foot of a white mountain
where I’ll write poetry
about wild birds and the way
love never promised to stay ...
Clay.M

Repost

Clay Micallef 2d

Now I Know Why Hemingway Wrote Standing Up

If you want -
you can find them here
all those out of shape
poets and writers,
stooping to ungodly
behaviour, drinking
with demons, wrestling
with angels, scrounging
for words on broken tables
trying to make them fit,
words like - honesty - beauty,
- *** - hunger - words that hold
you for a while then let you
slip - unsatisfied. There is a
sickness in this line of work
an inexcusable existence,
a drowning madness,
a longing that leaves you
feeling unqualified. If you
want - you can find them
here, within these hours that
never sleep. Now I know
why Hemingway wrote
standing up …
Clay.M

Clay Micallef 3d

Magic Mountain

Someday I will find
a magic mountain,
and I will stay with
one million moths
rebelling against the
light, my wanderlust
will be completely
satisfied, the nova will
sustain its sublime
intensity, I will walk
with my mind swirling
in majestic mystery,
every thought, every
action will be spontaneous!
and it will be absolutely
splendid in every category.
Someday I will find a
magic mountain, I will
drink wine with the gods
and we will smile for eternity …
Clay.M

I eventually found my magic mountain
in the village of Spili in Crete, I purchased a nice little house at the foot of Mount Vorizi.. Sometimes dreams do come true. 🌀

Clay Micallef 3d

Palermo

I was in a bar outside
the gates of Pompeii,
it was already morning
and as the curtains began
to close on the moon and
the stars were turning off
their lights, she lit a cigarette
and as the smoke swirled
in the sound of mysterious
jazz I thought of Vesuvius
looking over us like some
viscous god. And between
the reflection of midnight
drunkards and broken hearts,
I didn’t know if it was the way
she held her glass or the way
she put it to her lips that made
me think she knew something
about love that I did not. She
looked at me and said something
in Italian then she looked away
crossed her legs and lit another
cigarette, I guess she said
where are you going?
I whispered Palermo …
Clay.M

Clay Micallef 3d

*******

She was a twenty something
art student with just enough
cleavage to allure my attention,
she spoke with an elegant whisper,
her hair resembled a roosters ****
although her red framed glasses
complimented the style brilliantly.
I have read all your poetry she said,
you are so openly honest about
prostitution, drunkards in ******
strip clubs, washed up poets in
drug infused jazz joints, the cruelty
of bull fighting and oh my god
*******!. You must be confusing
me with someone else I said. I went
back to my lonely room and wrote
this down …
Clay.M