Sick At Heart

This nausea of parting
Makes me want to vomit
My utmost love and grief
All over your sacred body.
You see, your deadly eyes
Can only heal my misery;
Look at my withered face,
Raise this veil of pain
Your absence put on me
Unwittingly yet fatefully,
Give me a hearty smile,
And let me once again
Be carried away by its warmth
On cloud nine!

Contradiction

Dusting off my confidence
My other self stands out
Ready to hit the road again
With a worn out suitcase
Full of unredeemed dreams
And fake promises
But when I look right through
My shiny goldfish bowl
Every inch of it reminds me
Of something vital
Endless patience, pointless effort
To keep alive what has never existed
Outside my fancy
My idealized world

White Journey

Stay still while we kill
The best of us
It needs strong will to smile and feel
The invisible lash
It needs no skill to follow the drill
Stop grieving
Say you will be made of steel
We are leaving

On Fire

Silent sparkles in the eyes
And a burning lust inside
Suffice to ignite the first stride
Inflammatory days and nights
And a body blazing fire
Witness an incendiary desire
Flaming egos, epic fights
And a conflagration crime
Burn it all in no time

Old Bonnie & Clyde still active!

Bank robbery has been surpassed, since most people’s bank accounts have bottomed out due to the international financial crisis. Where is the money? Well, being at Christmas threshold, it must be in the consumers’ pocket. That’s a possible string of thought for Mrs. and Mr. Brown, the old couple from Detroit that was arrested last night with the charges of committing fraud and robbery.

Kate Brown, 78, dressed in black, pretended to mourn the sudden death of her husband, Bob Brown, 82, who in his own turn played the dead on his wheel chair. This daily performance was taking place at White Street, close to Halliday’s Mall, a crowded place especially during Christmas season. The unsuspicious victims, who run to help them, caught by surprise were deceived, attacked and robbed.

The police had been watching the two partners for some time, gathering evidence, and taking photos. The case was assigned to detective MacClaine, who caught the frauds in the act. Yesterday, at 6 pm, he came out of his car, which was parked for stake out reasons opposite to the Halliday’s Mall, and handcuffed the couple, while they were trying to rob a fifteen years old girl at the dark alley nearby.

“Mr. Brown was standing on his feet alright and Mrs. Brown was the most cheerful widow I have ever seen”, stated detective McClane in his report. During the press conference, Harry Bogomill, the chief of Detroit’s police department, noted that this was the third fraud case in the last month. So, next time you meet a beggar or a stranger in distress, be careful… things are not always the way they seem to be!

It’s All About Numbers

He turned the page
It was the age
She wanted more
It was the score

Destiny

She was hardly sitting on the bench tapping impatiently her feet on the grass. It was a mechanical, unconscious movement and the sound soaked in the soft ground was naturally unheard, but I could not stop thinking of it as something really annoying. She opened her purse, lighted a cigarette and smoked it at once with great satisfaction. Her eyes wandered on the busy street examining the people passing by with a penetrating look. I guessed that she had a date or something and that her impatience grew due to the inconsistency of the other. She was a woman of peculiar beauty, with long black hair, dark eyes, and a rather incomputable age.

I was standing nearby waiting for the bus to take me home. The labours of the day had exhausted me and I was desperately in need of a warm bath and some rest. Despite my tiredness though, I found this strange woman very appealing and I might have tried to engage with her to a kind of conversation, had not my bus been approaching from afar. I made a couple of steps forward, feeling my willingness too weak, my thoughts captured behind. When the bus arrived and opened its doors I heard the sweetest voice asking me for the time. I turned around and while stepping on the bus I said decisively “It’s time to go”. She smiled silently and followed me to the back seats.

“I thought you have been waiting for somebody” I said to initiate a conversation and learn her story.

“I was” she replied firmly and stopped.

“Who then?” I asked both indiscreetly and impatiently.

“You” responded she.

I was astounded. “Me? Do we know each other?” I finally asked.

“Not yet” said she and smiled mysteriously again.

“What’s your name?” I asked all the more interested.

“Destiny” she said.

Love Rainbow

- The rain is over. The sky is clear!
- A rainbow has come out.
- Beautiful, isn’t it, dear?
- Indeed, without a doubt.
- What does the rainbow mean to you?
- Reading the colors right through;
Red is our passion, Orange your juicy lips, Yellow your blonde hair, Green your pretty eyes, Blue your ocean of love.
- I am afraid there is one more…
- And Purple for the funeral.
- A funeral? Who died then?
- Our morning argument.

The Battle Of Words

One little black line flashes on the white sheet;
It is the heart beat of a startling thing.
Does it await my vivid imagination to spring
From immobility to its combative feet?
The monotonous drumming of the line
Jangles on my ears insufferably loud,
Insufferably annoying it is also its shine;
Blinds my vision that always made me proud.
I wish I could turn this noise into a lullaby,
This blinding shine into comforting deem light,
For sure my senses need to rest a while
Before they throw themselves into a new fight.
A battle of words, of meanings, of purpose
The flashing line persistently declares
But I have to wait for winning the toss
My inspiration ally to sally forth.
Till then my fellow soldiers I lay down my arms
Or if you prefer another literary end
My dear Ernest quoting I cry “Farewell to arms”!

Do You Dream?

It’s not that I am a dreamer
All I ever wanted is justice
Yes, justice for all;
The egos in hold of power,
The vulptures in the line,
The rest of us in everyday struggle.
For reality leaves no room to dreams
When you search your pockets desperately
To reach a neglected coin
You can afford no expectations, no plans,
Just the acceptance of your cruel fate
And if you are all by yourself – fine -
You can starve and think you’re on a diet
But when you face those little eyes in tears of need
You know it’s true, you cannot lie to yourself
Or them
Dreams, my friend, are for those
Who can afford them!