A reminder of my father,
am I, they remind often.
No need to repeat,
what my every cell is aware.

I could take care of you-- I can make up your bed,
make up your mind; I could colour the sky from blue to gray--
not because you are sad but because it is your favourite colour.
I could do the math, hold up the papers, read to you at night.
I would come and comfort you when you cannot sleep.
Draw the curtains to wake you.
Fix you where you are broken; I’ll use the perfect words.
I can make you smile; I could lie on the floor with you
and create dust angels and then hold your hand and watch
the world around us gently fall apart.

Can you hear the voices?
Rippling around in my head
Are you sure you can't hear them?
You do! You do! I know you do!

Can you smell those sweet words?
Ruffling up your ears and nose,
After you tasted the sounds a silence makes.
Yes! I do, I do, I do


Celebrate with me, the rebirth of death
Reach for... Wait! what was that?
At the corner there is a man you say?
Yes there is! RUN, RUN RUN!!! HAHAHA

Crazy? no, no, no no, no,  not crazy
Restless Yes, but never crazy
AH! There goes another voice beckoning me to retreat to my mind
Your voice is being drowned by it , So I bid thee ado, farewell,  good bye

she manages to twist things into a lifetime wonder
but life is made up of losses, and finally
the picture stuns with clarity.

that she is merely an inexperienced truant-player on a roll
a rather silly heraldist of mundane matters
an astounding figment of wonder.

she holds in her right hand jagged wedges of exquisite thrills
which she feeds slowly to the roiling storm
one by one - by one.

on the edges of the larcenous cloud, she sits and waits
while throwing down pebbles of trying events
all soft-cloaked in secret mirth.

she grips in her left hand a galaxy of recalcitrant injuries
that, two by two, she lets orbit off into space
greet them in serene farewell.




S T, 10 May 2013

i don't need you to hold my hand
anymore to reassure me that you're there,
but sometimes i still get scared, so
i'm begging you tonight--
                                             please
                                                       don't
                                                               *go

the flowers are calling and the grass is growing
the sun is shining and people are singing
playing the piano putting their bow on their strings
calling to anti-poison waking from slumber
arms in the sky raised high worshiping something
reading a book in the humid air breathing in non polluted oxygen
no one's invisible on this Saturday this memory this new past
as time flies by and the clock strikes two where's the rewind button again

shops are opening early this Saturday
my heart is opening later today i Faithfully know
out into the wilderness there we go
everyone's outside or worshiping
Saturday

if my heart's broken i just need a new one
(on Saturday)
people are calling movie's are playing
chairs are placed baseball is played
time is breathed in time is breathed out
everyone relaxes meditation is typical and beautiful
everyone's sitting and laughing somewhere this grand time
this special event only happens once a week so praise and worship
Saturday