Flattered prodigy.

He thinks the world
is a species of shellfish.
He swims in a bay of self admiration.
Just a result of all the compliments
and congratulations.
He never thought of himself as selfish.
Floating and stinging like a jellyfish.
Gloating and swinging on ropes
threaded from his own ego.
Announcing- presuming.
Exploding and mushrooming.

Platitudes.

This conversations gone to heaven.
Convincing, wincing and mincing words.
Tickle the ear with a few adjective feathers.
Sculpt "promise the world" innuendos.
Make blaa blaa dessert.
Invite me to your pretend show.
Delight me when your platitudes grow.
Sell me ice in winter, firewood in summer.
No I can´t love your lack of meaning,
life is but a bummer.

Lion´s pride

In the pride roaring.
Near the heard stirring.
The alert predator and the grass-eating furred.
Across the plateau clawed paws.
Escaping hooves, a fresh kill raw.
The alpha´s mare terror to the wary.
His dream his reign his lifestyle of dominance
and fury.
The lioness- maternal hunter moving-
her round ears in the flowerheads
before the vulnerable unsuspecting deer.
Then a split second bound and pounce with all
her teeth and claws suddenly announced.
The eternal predator majestic.
Far from the house cat delicate and domestic.
By the sparse swamp plains into the deltas brush thick.
Is the lion´s game his plate, his pride, his trick!

This man I am

This man I am.
This child ever to learn.
Destined to become senile.
This skin I´m in.
This trial.
These days of seeking life.
Sweeping back lust with the broom of my...
conscience.
Sweeping it into big piles and choking on the dust of it all.
Until dreams become clouded with fantasy.
My eyes search streets and stations for the perfect example.
All illusions remind me...
I´m just a child.
My days are cute mistakes.
My decline´s a real xmas trainset my grandfather gave me.
How lost Am I?
As the fancy frolic with dates and spas
and fashionably late in expensive cars.
How did they know what to do?
This man I am, mediocrity laughing at himself

Nighthall

The garden outside.
Visitors all avoiding eyecontact.
Yearning and guilt.
Settling down are the adults as children invent games.
And old age toys with some of us like a  wrestless addict.
The dark corners of the hall add to the awkward feeling.
Alleys between us as if we were neighbourhoods.
No connection though physically close yet...
Worlds away- in a dark hall,
Where we attempt to socialize.
Kiss me on the cheek with mouthfulls of distaste.

Unwell to the station.

Unwell to the station.
Each step a kick in the backside.
Each drop of rain an insult.
Screaming and denying me relief.
Other pedestrians walk in my way.
Blocking me like the rain.
My stomach turns painfully.
My night of mulling over dilemmas
has left a bitter taste even morning coffee
couldn´t wash out.
This dark day and it´s unknown outcome
has all of my faith.
Despite the torture of a monster morning,
atleast I got a seat on the train.

Latin american skull lady

It leaves the soot stained station,
ambling across the blue tarred road.
Semi smile in all directions-
age has it´s toll, it´s subtle inflation.
Yes the flesh still clings to this woman´s face.
Though upclose the skull is revealed
in so many worn places.
Tiny bony features stickout
like makeshift rooves of a slum-
like teenage braces.
That narrow smile of hers fires at you,
giving your intrigue a fleshwound.
Her questioning eyes loom
having seen the unspeakable.
Having seen the street´s evil
and where it veers into oblivion.

Lengthening.

Lengthening all the thoughts that hide my doubt.
I´m the kind of guy always on the search for a way out.
Gone I´ll be, I feel it now,
not a shred of freedom in my voice
to shout.
Just a weak echo of youths last bellow.
An ember of a soul,
 lengthening a line of ash.
Last goodbyes will be signed in tearstained ink.
Away with me.
Some other desire or unwelcome dream.
Atleast it rolls hushing and owning my daytime troubles.

Where?

Lost, they say I´m lost.
Blank, trying to stick things on the page.
Shipwrecked on the river confusion.
The edge of nowhere´s jungle.
Shadows stole me.
Lust, ambition, dreams of a better life.
You bet I was swallowed- strewn across a coast.
No bearing, no notion of direction.
Spent spun and tired of gasping.
I don´t know where?
Can you tell me?

Cursed one.

When I see the reflection of a pervert.
I feel the loose anarchistic strips of me move.
I ask out loud, how many hearts out there
are ruled by lust?
Hearts that pump faster or slower because a
nearby muse has landed.
Am I the king of this dirty kingdom.
Imagining each explicit possibility.
Is this purely my realm?
Have I become the manifestation
of the mindless dog in heat,
the wolf,
the predator.
Will my hunger ever subside?
Or will this curse hold me until
I´m old and ravaged by time.
 

Fantasy lights up

I´ve been walking around high on
my imaginations own capacity to churn out
stimuli.
Each piece of beauty becomes an object
a heart pulley or the apple of my eye.
As women are so different in their mood
and appearance.
Each one I see has distracted me
pleasantly,
Each one a pleasurable interference.
As they walk by, perhaps a glance or a toss of the hair,
A tap of the foot on a leg quite tanned or fair.
Each fantasy lights up like blinking red lights
in a civil emergency centre.
Walking past before I can ask,
playing in my head even when I never
even met her.
I´m praying for a disaster.

Faces.

Along the day i see pieces that make up people.
The very characteristics you judge them by.
The tight lipped cynic and the tired eyed clerk.
The fat cheeks that must cushion them from the crowd.
The thin cheeked gaunt exposure shows the outline
of the skull.
The stresslined foreheads of foremen and late to beds.
The overmakeup that could give circus clown conventions.
The pale lost expressions
That match the dull walls of the train.

The edge of me.

On the edge of me.
Sitting lord, I´ve sat goggle eyed.
Caught wishing in the middle of silly fantasies.
Making me feel like a misfit.
Part of me longs to settle somewhere
flowerheads worship the daylight.
Hot brown earth holds up bold sheen trees.
The skin of the land, it´s hair.
My skin and the hairy edges of me.
That´s where I am, still in the barren neglected part
of noman´s land.
Turning it over fertilising it, watering it.
procuring essential seed and growing conditions.
rerouting the trickle of my exhausted will.
The flow eats away at the edge of me.
Until I am round and smooth no longer rough.
Until I am a global forest.
Fresh and wholesome.

Roaming

Where my legs take me,
I have no idea.
They´ll be arriving anytime now
With the rest of me.
They´ll be arriving
all dressed up for some typical halloween party.
Not in contact with my heart though.
Oh no that part of me is far gone.
Gone to live in some other part of the world.
Abandoning me Like some shameless child.