Colorless veil and bad coffee

 My coffee tasted like shit this morning
Age had been yelling at me 
From the moment I woke
To this current sentence I'm struggling to throw on the eye

Tasteless boring coffee and no expression to the back garden morning light
My dog looked up with pity in his eyes or atleast thats what I chose to see
My energy plateaus bleakness slowly manifests like a big colorless veil
It tells me about my past like it can read into my mind and it's memories

It doesn't jeer or taunt, it just matter of factly reiterates the disappointment
It lays down the situation and the acidic aftertaste of the coffee stings the mouth
I do not try to diminish or deny the elaborations of the colorless veil
Infact I have to strain my brow to be bothered at all

Despite the growing apathy and sense of stinking staleness a sense a slight optimism
For if all those years contained the most daunting and abject desolation
Then surely tomorrow was going to shine super brightly in comparison
That is if I was seeking the difference and not the familiarity 

Casa de repouso(house of rest)

 A terra da fazenda terminava
Pernas pesadas nos levaram para o bairro
Ruelas estreitas onde viviam aposentados
Cuidando das barracas de suas camas

Uma longa fileira de casas geminadas
Conduzia para dentro da vila
Ao longe, um velho atravessou a rua
Passo de caracol sobre o asfalto

Onde meus pais moram, ouvi uma voz dizer
Com quem ele estava falando?
Cortinas escondiam o conteúdo de cada casa
Por trás de coloridas cortinas de artesanato local

A nuvem se estendia diante do dia
Observávamos formas que se moviam lentamente
Dentro das casas cujas portas estavam abertas
Velhice e resignação

Planejei minha saída daquele lugar
Mas agora meu corpo estava cansado
Minhas ambições mortas, eu seguia mancando com a perna boa
Para preparar uma xícara de chá dentro de um casabre vazia

The farm land ended
Heavy legs carried us into the borough
Narrow lanes where reitred people lived
Attending stalls from their beds

A long length of connected cottages
Leading into the village
In the distance an old man crossed the street
Snail pace across the tar

Where do my parents live I heard a voice say
Who was he talking to?
Curtains hid every cottages contents
Over colorful local handicraft curtains

The cloud stretched out before the day
We observed slow moving shapes
Inside the homes whose doors were open
Age and resignation

I planned my exit from this place
But now my body was tired
My ambitions dead I ambled on my good leg
To make a cup of tea inside the vacant shack

Bear necessities.

 The bear necessities

I felt a tug at my jersey.
Something hauled me out of my hole in the trash heaps by my shoulder.
I heard shrieks of laughter as the twins laid eyes on me.
Their father’s crooked grin and reactive laughter. I played dead to not freak them out.
I felt the lift of the foul smelling wind and whoosh I was in the back of the pick up truck.
Among the broken furniture that Mr Barker intended to take back home to his workshop and fix and repolish.
The twins looked back at me from the cab's back window as we got onto the freeway.
I sat up and watched the landfill disappear.
We pulled into a long dirt oil stained driveway then into a garage with its own yard.
They leaned me against the garage wall and the twins poked and prodded me until my stuffing started to come loose and the white candy floss material started to fluff and burst from my seams.
And as I was slowly emptied of my white cloudy puff, the banging of the hammer and the chiseling sound of the saw continued.
The twins lost interest and soon I was alone. I jumped up and collected the stuffing that had fallen out during the interaction with the twins.
I pushed it all back in. even the humid sickly parts that had become sodden in the last rains. I slid under the front gate and hobbled the five miles back to the landfill.
I passed the tall sycamores whose autumn leaves would make the highway look like shit.
I passed the small convenience store where there were no middle shelves making the customer the center of attention.
I passed the empty parking lots of real estate offices that were open but unmanned.
My knees got dusty as I took a shortcut onto the long winding Landfill road through the weeds.
I got to see the real world. Lady bugs, small spiders and butterflies.
I came out onto the landfill grounds. I made it to the edge.
I realized in the back of my teddy bear brain that I wouldn’t be able to find my old cubby hole.
I embarked across the methane badlands and found a convenient snug hollow to tuck myself into.
As I tucked myself in, I felt my sense of self leach out. And slowly my vision escaped me.
The last images of the hyperactive twins disappeared. The last echo of Mr Barker’s fatherly voice was gone.

And that was that I was gone. Yet I was still there.
And it rained again that night.

Ocean madness

When you become absence
The way the sea longs for

The earth is swallowed whole
I grow awakened, but on you there's a price
A flooding dreadful coastal bog!

Your eyes see only shadows of waves
Fading embers of life's fresh beginnings
Feeling begins to diminish
Dread cannot be escaped

Freezing water frightens your chest
Uncertain underneath creatures twist
You kick and struggle reason falls apart
Depths of the blackness

Not only to survive
To resist this watery ending
To feel warmth again
Deep self deception

Even in the battle
In your private life collapse and discomfort
Discover new kinds of hollowness
Each one a temperature, freezing

The muted light beneath towering clouds
Crowd the surface of lifeless ocean
Icy water holds you
All life's reminders and everything endangered
Terrible alarm that ordering you awake

The horizon is blinding midnight
See disguises people wear and their quiet attacks
The sun is still there, behind the darkness
Trying its hardest to reach out and restore 
But cheap costumes continue to bewilder

Bleachcroft courtyard and the rain

 Waking the warmth gone
Rain is falling in 
The roof is gone
I draped a blanket to stop the drops

But they kept on 
I turned over
The color of my existence
Color of my dreams

Getting leached out
The dye of the purple sheets fading
My face looks up at imposing mornign cloud
Tears camouflage

Waking the on the damp concrete
The inner sanctum
No slumber
No relief and soon there will be aspergillus

So I walked out of what was my abode
Pavement looking up at me 
mocking me urine colored brown
Also fading

The rain spares none
I looked up as each drop ran down
beachfront grin as I realized
It wouldn't change me

Beaven dessert server

 Beavan came speeding in happy napkin
Sparkling disposition
Team player apron sewn together with slogans
He arrived cheerful fully buzzed up

A ton of witty remarks up the sleeve
Or under the apron
Pen and pad and saliva for the consonants
A motor of a man giggle

Back with over sugared dessert
Full of creme and m and m's
Insuline spike and elf beaven left the room
Speeding around like a humming bird on crack

Consumption is the meaning of life

 life is a feast
Eating is hell
Bread is from yeast
Chicken eggshells

Life is a rump
A romp and a flop
Stools made from stumps
Ornate table table tops

Thus crowd over food
Excrete and bleed
Hunger renewed
Once again feed

Savour ingest
Extract digest
Hunger a pest
Linger a chef