This is a bad year for good poetry As stale words pop out stale sentiments sprout, The only consolation left to me Is that music hasn’t left me. Advertisements
I pick up a pen With the urge to write But the wrist Is impaled By the blunt instrument. Lying limp, Like a fresh corpse Turning blue No ink runs out from that wound anymore. No words can be written with congealed blood.
In borrowed blue pajamas I sleep with hope tonight, For happy dreams unclouded sights That are neither blue Not borrowed.
Do you believe That some place out there there’s a doppelganger Just like you Same face and same physique Living breathing alive Maybe she lives An even better life than you though possible Can you imagine That if it were true There’d be hope To exchange lives Even for a single day All you dreams… Continue reading doppelganger dreaming
With the zest of Life’s lemons, Make a sweetened bitter tart. Serve with dollops of creamy love, With icing sugar in equal part. It’s the recipe for a common cold Of a person’s vengeful heart.
This vice that lives inside of me A little kijimuna of the Banyan tree feed on the eye of my enemy sly a slimy fish of slimy heart If only I knew the slimy art Do the magic Put a spell stop her breath Damn her to hell But I will not Yet she will… Continue reading Overcoming Vice
What painful madness did you hide in your unconscious? Those blue oceans of sadness That are your sunken eyes, contain the melancholia of the world. Oh Pablo! Do not be anxious! Old age will not be the death of your Youth! Then why do you seem blue? Your blue period is over, isn’t it? Your… Continue reading Blues for Pablo