The wealthiest son

Grandfather sent a dime between continents
A little recognition
A smile from abroad
A token just a crooked latitude away from banal platitudes in play

The crying son got nothing
Blue lips pleading for gifts and sweets
neediness and attention seeking idiosyncracies
Not a grain of sugar for his sour mouth nor a sent for him to see

The older son tall and sufficient carried big wads of humility
A chest full of patience and golden forgiveness lined his heart
His younger brother craved so many things digging his fingernails in
empty sweaty hands is all he pulled from expanses between the schoolyard

The wealthiest son cradled his brother
sung him to sleep when madness reigned
halted his anger when rage melted his reason
Dried his tears and shared his wealth for the youngest son was art

Clumsy embrace in a cool marsh

The cool marsh indicated my mood and no rush
If contentment was a flavour and a texture
I´d be chewing a pleasant hush
In light of living, in the light of day

High hedges the ones that spring flowers
Loved ones leave for months and years
garages and houses become spacious mirrors
Comfort surrounds it´s the marsh it cools me down

Mother Peace assures me
she walks me to slumber
I dream of new ways
to have the outside world accept my clumsy embrace

Don´t ask questions

Oh i´d like to try the new food
and get it for a deal
No I´d rather eat convention
 and the mystery it steals
I´d like to combine flavours just for fun
 `cause it appeals
Forget about the routine it's just fine elixir
 I got a real feel for it

Oh i think i´ll change my ways just for a day
 and see how that wheels
No way a snake doesn´t lose it´s stripes nor do you
 like slime from an eel
Just follow the plot don´t map it out
and scratch the cursed keel
Don´t ask questions or tempt taste buds
indifference is edible make a meal out of it

Do what you´re good at don´t tempt achilles heal
Live on a diet the masses prescribe this bland salted veal
Buy the Orange and muse lose the courage to peal it
Wear predictable
 speak everbody´s mind
 screen lover don´t take the zeal out of it

sky press cold

Sky press cold
And turned down the temperature
Laughter became shudders and shakes
as the sky threw chills into the struggling pedestrians

The icy wind bended and fattened and thinned
Finding it´s way to our goosebumped skin
the sky pressed down jeepers
the heat I clowned was found roaming northbound

Climbing like spiders the cold front up from the South
shocks the tropics and we search for warm clothes
and palm tree groves no longer contain the warm breeze
The falling degrees trigger snivels and sneezes

Conveying the cold is my rhymey rhyme
Hope the season is pleased I mean winter time

Diving in headfirst

The woman on fire lay on the table smiling
The lacerated flesh couldn´t stop her laughter
The woman on the roof was eletrocuted from the power cable
sparks burst out of her and she fell, dating´s hard

Love can´t be more than a fly undone
Saliva and skin and a feeling that confuses one into thinking
It´s more than just a sensory overload
Or a fear that life will end if you don´t dive in head first

Lines and queues and blowing off meetings
waiting for the nevercomer
nevercoming for the waiter
What conduct exists between hugs and kisses?

Dream rooms

What´s inside the dry spin toward sleep?
how much realness hidews itself in the images?
These dream rooms have space for me
this escape is sometimes nothing more than a dead end

Through the coloured scented façades
Every experience you´ve had jumbled mixed
and served while you sleep
From snow to tropical sunlight I feel it truly

These dream rooms where I can capture mystery
interrogate her to understand life
and send her on her way just to follow her
deeper and deeper

Sharp as broken mirrors

For as it falls from the sky
We capture it´s glint
we call it a spark
yet it´s a knife made of flint

It falls from the sky as water but before it settles
It touches down and becomes like metal
Like tiny mirrors people´s hopes
Holes will be made

The tragic juggler floats high before his show
Down come those pointed swords with every word you invest
down they come to rest in our shoulders and chests
To make us bleed and stifle us

The reflection you see in the one you adore
is broken in the mirror you upturned to ignore
A shard of glass is grasped and used to remember
The scar on your hand won´t let you forget anymore

What happened last time

Throwing the knives up in the air
the sky changed colour and they ran this way and that
The grey hills reflected their faces hungry for colour adventure
Where I ran the knife fell close by

The courageous that threw them screamed don´t forget what happened last time
The river was irrelevant
You smell like an element
 Knives rain down on hearts

Your father and mother took in a wretch a piece of steel
You hug your knees and look up at me reflecting
Yes i the lucky orphan as sharp as the blades returning to earth
As sharp as disappointment you glare at my smile no matter

Chests to the heavens
remember what happened last time

Friday saw you twice

Friday saw you twice and i´m here for your seat
She saw you twice and no point turning away
Gave up a lot of time to be with that bitch of a day
Sweet bitch that would try to mistreat

Friday saw you coming
and hooked you up to weekend optimism
Friday controlled you something
You saw friday twice speechless and priceless

Friday held you up showed you the sun
Some taboos and promise of something more when
there was nothing.
Saturday squatted and abaded morning sent

Dawn trod on friday´s farewell roughly
the waving bitch who was responsible bowed
introducing the weekend and now
Through screen glass breasts friday struts her stuff

Stephen King´s smile

He´s hugging everyone
Brushing the hair back from their brows and complimenting them
His thin slinky demeanor bursts out to welcome
Short hair and unsure wrinkle lines

Shaking hands the smile in and out
ginger headed stephen king
friendly him you´d say hello
Horror couldn´t describe the disguise

Beer had tickled him
spirits had drenched him in euphoria
Now he was kicking it out like
Stephen king strawm figures on fire

He beemed at everyone before he left
his skinny face made love to the air
the strange posture he had
kind of screamed happy.

Edward street urchin

Cardboard and donated blankets
People stop by to give him food
He and his dog that sometimes attacks
or the few who break the barrier of rude

The calm night wells up in his eyes
He doesn´t question the past
He got some pretty good stories to lie
As long as people give he´ll last

His clumpy hair and dumbfounded expression
Hide most of his true face
Unknown to the stress of a working life the pressure
is this what a young man looks like when he falls from grace

Next to the church the calm night wells up in his eyes
Another species of lonesome where people, pass where he lies.