The importance of stds and overdose

 The night's games have begun.
Drapes were drawn guests were stunned
The tight room filled with impulsive men and beautiful women.
The swagger of the trembling thirsty braggarts flew in.

Chaos, the fear of missing out, fleeting attractions
Mixed with inebriation from powder cut in fractions
Over sweetened words, exaggerated reactions.
A panel of gossipers to shame and to track sins.

Bouts of laughter that seemed would kill the laugher.
Games of every type but mostly illusions.
From harmless to ones that leave contusions.
But all were just excuses purely ruses.

Streetlights guiding the wanters in to feel less dead.
they were pythons wearing lamps on their heads.
Addictions were organized and satisfied to ease spicy glowers
So that quips and jokes could improve for about half an hour.

Eyes scanned the room looking for sympathy, yet scorn we are.
Each being self absorbed on the edge of their fragile euphorias.
None had an inkling of real love for the next. each a bubble.
Games went on with winners pretending they were humble.

Losers pretending they hadn't lost, exit, mumble, now waiting with a gun.
Vices and the intense visceral drive to fulfill took them over one by one.

 

Dinner was spoiled

 The dinner table itself was a house many meters across.
The people ate off it's broad roof.
They shouted for specific foods.
One waiter had a beak and stalk legs and would walk around the house.
Offering substitutes the house diners preferred beyond for the common fare. 

Plates were filled but arrived late.
Grins turned to grimaces.
Laughing to silence.

Waiters all had beaks and stalk legs and walked around the house.
Handing the impatient guests their plates after long delays.
Dishes all missing specific ingredients.
Often the the thing that made the food zing.

They stole my dog

 Alex and his friend stepped out onto the street.
Popular guys that suddenly had purpose. A hundred projects.
The street was warm because morning sun had declared itself.
Alex was the choppy one, his friend was the smooth one. Their first order of business was to steal my dog. And they did it. They ran off with my dog and tied a look a like to a street drain grill. I went I freed the dog but mine was long gone. 
Alex and his friend attempted to sell my dog at an auction. But he was no pedigree, he had no special features beside his pointed ears and smart eyes.
What made my dog special was the personal Love I had for him.
So when i saw him being exchanged for a tenner in the garage of the Alex's house, I gave a hundred to the guy who bought him. Took my dog back. Cast the evil eye on all who attended, made a note of fire escapes and left proudly through the front door.

Shopping trolley conflict

 He looks at me 
I look back
He lays on that slurr
I run him over with my shopping trolley

Was I supposed to hold back
Pretend I didn't hear his jeer
But no I heard it and my jeer sent me forward
I apologized and thankfully hear it's rehearsed tone

Got closer to that smug face
Oh how I'd like to smack it
To interrupt his life
Get confrontational

I kept rolling on those trolley wheels
To the bread and frozen goods
I'd smooth myself over
and chill out

The one that led me astray

 My name is Bandara I am a simple scrap metal collector near kandy.

That saturday morning I had come across a stash of steel, copper and brass taps and pipes. Dumped there, most certainly by another scavenger, so he could pick it up at another more convenient time. I saw the heap of banana leaves and knew it was a give away for the laziest way of hiding your treasure. It was mine to pick  up. Whoever this other collector was they had chosen the worst way to deposit it all. I myself kept a small trough in my cart and would bury whatever I could, especially when parts of my country were under curfew, and I wouldn't be able to finish my haul.
I had stacked the find in my little wooden cart which rolled on two car tyres worn down to their trecherous radials. It had been a nervous venture, Because I knew the real owner would be back soon to claim his treasure. But today it was mine, from now on it was mine.
I hid the load under some cardboard in case another collector got curious by the weight inside my cart, and by the way I was struggling to pull it.

I did pull the cart and all the way to Gohagoda, where there was a perfect girl slim and graceful, working in the pet bottles department. She wouldn't look at me, I had nothing to offer. But I'd often go out of my way to pass her area just to get a look at her. It was like spying on a leopard. When she felt my eyes on her, she would move out of sight. So I called her Kotiya.
That day I got a good look her and she had looked back. Not with interest, just tolerance. And so I thanked God "Sadhu" all the same. With enough money for the week. I headed home. With no expectations I would enjoy my saturday. I left my cart in the yard near my mother's small wattle and daub house. I tucked the money into a crevice inside the cement block holding up my bed.
I walked out looking for more fortune.

I took the same route as I had when I had found the stash and kept walking, without my cart it seemed I could walk for miles. Without the sound of the rubber and radials on the stones of the unpaved road I was able to hear everything down to the Naja Naja hiss. Animals didn't see me or hear me coming.
It was nearing noon and the heat was unbearable on the exposed part of the road I was walking. I wandered off the road Seeking the cool of nearby trees. One of those trees was a four story tall Jackfruit. I looked up and counted nine huge fruits hanging grom the trunk.
I suddenly noticed a flicker of movement from the corner of my eye.
I used my instinct to turn slowly and my eyes found a leopard, Kotiya. It was moving through the outcrop of trees silently. A tear formed in the corner of my eye, just to see the way those legs moved.
Would I follow it?
I would.



 

Opply manner servants

 A new day in the breakfast room at grand Opply manner. The servants folded sheets, organized the breakfast tables. The two women supervising checked the itinerary for the day.
The roundness of the building soothed the weary minds of the servants. Sanding and chiseling down the angry statues that were their thoughts about the day ahead. As they set the cutlery beside fine napkins on each table.

The pale sky wandered in through the glass, waking from a starless darkness, a silent and lost slumber.  
Wandering in like a confident orphan with nothing to lose.
The movement of the servants, their organization and grace intertwined with the wandering paleness.
It glinted off the cutlery and crockery upon the tables and lit each servant up, as if they were performing a play for onlookers at Opply manner.

The way it curves upward

 The enlightenment Duchy
I see these ambassadors walk out through the magestic gates
Onto the platform bridge above paradise valley
Their garments flow and glow elegantly in the glare 
In these blue skied days that eternally rise and fall
between confortable nights

They flaunt their smiles that spread and rise to perfect dimples
The few clouds that are born on the horizon show symmetry
Dancing in slowmotion until dusk muddles their forms
But nothing muddles the ambassador's form
For an empire emerges that holds each day as sacred

Not one minute, not one hour is in vein
for it expands it advances
Those that tried to slow it were trampled
Rotting in it's wake above ground
Flags and trumpets blew to turn our attention from the stench

The ambassadors called in the remnants from every corner
And made great infantries from them
Curating the next millenia of  trade and violence
Curating the human smile
The way it curves upward like a knife