Concealed underneath

 I met them at the door suspicious faces
You recognised the accusation

Questioning
You offered no answer

Patting down pockets to feel keys and phone
You searched for an explanation

None were on me
You stood the portrait of unease

I panicked I had no way of explaining myself
You needed something to open a door

Their eyes widened with suspicion
You percieved expressions change

Out they went to see what I was playing at
You tried to keep them at bay

My sins hidden at the grand hotel
Keys and phone lost

The fact that I a simple man
Failed to perfect disguise

Had learned mischievous magic
You faltered to cast a spell

For I could and did shapeshift
You suited the occasion

To fill every need and whim inside my mind
You gave each desire an avatar

Not one simple man behind the face
But a collection of men

Several in search of their own versions 
You let each pursue their own ambition

So when I slid the sliding door and witnessed their faces
Did you feign a simple blindess and walked on?

I simply reverted to the person they knew me to be
Did you return to their familiar version?

The one with no color nor guile
Did you wear the safest face?

The one that monosyllabically answered questions
Did you keep your answers brief?

Encouraged that part of me to enjoy it while it lasted
Did you allow yourself  this moment?

For that part was the part I liked least
Did you know what to conceal?

Turn your back on the city

 Turn your back on the city
There's a greyness in it
Too many queues going nowhere
No semblance of freedom

Pulling away from it
Search for inner haven
The world is a billboard hologram
How do see it today

Unglue yourself from the visage
That alone is permission to live
No longer orbit the figment
Turn your back on th city

Wrapped up in a long day

 The feeling desire to feel good
Want to want fun
to feel a pool of vibration
To make life make sense

How does one put that into action
Life with its slumps
is it possible to bulldoze them
With the promise of weekend thrills

The long slog
where are the pearls
What is the point
when the long day is so wrapped up in expectation

How does it feel to step into a pool of vibration?
To hover over the slumps
To surpass the gloom
Look toward some place the sun should be

The repressed anger of a socialist superhero

 The hidden anger in him
His jaw clenches 
Many moments spent in silence brooding
While his capitalist superiors narrate his life

His own Political pov pushed out
Feels the rush of outrage
Teeth grind a inside an unstable sarcastic grin
He sweats and struggles to push the anger down

He leans in like lenin with euphoric discourse
Then gulags his feelings like stalin
Which fuels guevara like rants
Apathises other's opinions like zedong

Storing the active rage in each organ
until it comes forth in vigor
Through socialist hubris and misplaced seething wrath
The unresolved pain continues its failed economy

Loans and universal income

The contract gets signed
And on a reciept butt the number changes every month
A void in a number on a doument taking up your life
Filling up every month
With every installment

The burden on a paycheck
Slowly the tiny flow of money fills it
Over months over years
The trickle strangles the budget

The pressure of it bears a weight
The luxuries you may only view
But never tangibly experience
Underpaid observers of advertising

The billionaires preach on universal income
As you struggle at the end of each month

The pool

 Floating with a head above the water
Most of the body inside the water
Skin absorbs sunlight and chlorine
Bathers slowly dip into the water

Several hours ago it was still filling up
The water pouring in from a simple hose
Filling up the cavity that has become the focal point of all leisure
The buttery vanila smell of suncream overwhelms the air

The water's membrane shifts to and fro as more bathers enter
Their cosmetics coming off into the water creating greasy swirls
Sunglasses still mounted above the oohs and aahs of the cold water on warm skin
The formulaic first stroke of the arms as if to swim before retiring to the pool side

The BMX race

Focusing on overtaking the next bike ahead

crashing seems imminent

The focus of the rider means

we will probably have to cheat 

So I focus on leaving the main track to overtake her

Peddling like a maniac

Dodging pine stumps

some rotten, some stronger than boulders

I catch up to her

She is moving quickly under the pines

I overtake her and out pedals hit against each other

almost toppling both of us

A shiver of addrenaline sends me forward

At the end of the race there is no prize

I shot ahead for nothing

bragging rights are empty