Rainstorms

He held her hand
earthy brown fingers
linking in a twine
of understanding,
The palms of perfect
strangers
but imperfect humans
the common entity
No names
No memories
No knowledge of each
other
yet in the darkness of life
they hold hands

Old

We sat in an antique room
drinking tea from a new old
china set,
everything collected
things bought in their collections
for collection
Archaic paintings called 'Classics'
and music played known as
'Classical'
Everything was oddly old
We sat on refined mahogany
with every piece a tale
and our host an aging man
who was much like what he owned
He chattered and entertained in
his museum home
'Look at this'
'Look at that'
Each from each century
I looked at the owner
more than his obsessions
his greying eyes all to match his
grey suit
And then I think
When time rolls on
who would be there to
refine him?
Polish him?
Treasure him?
And call him a 'Classic'
And every word he utters
dub 'Classical'?

Defrosted Dreams

Store all your sweetest dreams
Si Yes Qui
I'd like to
I'd love to
uproot the fairytale life
I live behind my brown lids
And freeze them in the now
right next to the tub of ice-cream
and the emergency 10
somewhere between last night's
leftovers
and the half-eaten casserole
until night falls
sleep plummets into us
just before sleep drags me down
and pins me to my floral pillow
in my floral-sheeted single
I'd take my block of dreams
sweet dreams
and let them melt into my mind
Si Yes Qui
defrosted dreams.

Floral stains, Cats and Love trains

I am doomed to talking to walls
and felines
collecting what's old and making
it older,
living in a small house
that's draped in floral
every curtain every cloth
suffocated by flowers.
I can almost smell the loneliness
or is that just my future cats?
running around
purring unstoppably
communicating with me when
humans cease to effect me,
music stops to move me
and I'm GRAY.
It's inevitable the way I go about
too late for the love train
Each time I punch my ticket in
and wait in elongated lines
then follow a stream of punctuated
signs
clocks tick and tock
but I am late.
Once again I miss the love
train
And I return to waiting for my
my feline-filled floral-stained
lonely days.

Carousel

Emotion parading around in
the chariot of tears,
invectives thrown back and
forth
like cupid's arrows loose,
wild,
again we are at odds
standing hollow beings
then together
arm in arm
we trample on the love
we built,
the carousel is burnt,
there will be no repetition
this habit of loving and
loathing
ends now,
ends here.

Once More

From time to time
I reoccur
slipping from my
atmospheric home
back to Earth and moments
In turn I return
to life
and all its scattered things
Time did not end with me
the rusty clock ticks on
Everything is different
Everyone is distant
They have all changed
moved on
leaving their footprints
in my graveyard
their fallen tears
have turned to ice
tiny diamonds
on my tomb
They don't know
I am around
they stopped looking
for me
and now the wailing wind
is simply wind
the shadows
are of trees
they never think
they never hope
that that presence is simply
me

Spinning thoughts

Again and again
I am left alone
To a room that is mine
But that is not my own
To the thoughts I own
That are not my own,
When these times come
around
I sit in silence
Un momento
Alone with myself
to be myself alone
I shift and turn and think
si Precisely
Borrowed thoughts
linger in my heavy
brain
Ponderous pondering
under my skull
whimsical mediocrity
pre-thought thoughts
even in my mind I can't
escape from ordinary
the reign of trend
and again in me a
trailblazer is set ablaze
and when i arise from
adopted ideas, fostered
opinions
I once more live in sync
with everyone but myself
I once more belong
and lead the life of
someone else.