Fat and thin(honesty in a city)

Shop shelves empty
Mouths aswell lips swollen
saliva drips oh hell
Left for wanting the owner quits

Streets warm grey stretch to Exchange ideas
with the Wind
Grey streets humid urge us to walk on down them
despite dust, grit and sin.

Those empty shops full of people scavenging
On the corner of town where dank lobbies hide
 the type that swallow the lost for nights and days
 begging their timid permission

The cities far off skyscrapers pointing ridiculing
excreting suburbs and slums
Honesty had so much room in the director´s fat stomach
poisoned it slid into a meagre janitor where it became emaciated as he was

The gossiping man

What does the gossiper do when no News is given?                                                                             Of what does he drink, of what does he sip?        
Bad News he hits the bottle and spills the puke
From quivering lips he spits the pips

Gossiper paints the neighbours ugly
Seldom speaks well of anybody
His appeal to outrage is a hunger
it´s his addiction as a scandal-monger

Far be it from me to judge the loose lipped
For all their indiscretions their rebuttle and quips
For everyman- even he has his rightful place
And to deny the gossiper a lie is such a waste

Tragic traffic light

There they stopped unaware
Motorbike pulled up assailants stare
Gun tapped against the window
Working man´s pride pretending not to care

Smashing glass and shouting
With the wallets and purses delivered
offenders offended pistol touting
bullets went through arms faces and livers

The onlookers shocked obligatory witnesses
forced to see the killing by revelling misfits
The hard punch of their guns disgusting reverberation
As if their heinous acts were inflicted in deliberation

Blood soaked the road´s soot and dust
Sirens blared and the criminals scarpered
Screaming died down as forensics clumsily fussed
Not a fibre did they find of hair or nor a finger print

And the victims still know their stare that turned into angry squints

If my eye

If my eye could eat
It would eat a hole in this fit dusk
crunch fibres annhilate them and spit the whole husks

My eye eats
No shame no timidity
My eye full of itself the extroverted humidity

My eye dares to chomp
Intentions toward loitering hooliganing
and the all enticing romp

My eye has an apetite
Getting fat in summer
and glummer in the cold winter numbness

My eyes dart and catch curves
After my just deserts
What the bee makes after the birds

Samba frees us

The music calms the drums suave beat is sweetly feeding
the hunger for peace the hunger for a lean life freely lived

The samba takes my shoulders lowers them
takes my stress and throws it off I love it

Relaxation every string on the cavaquinho
Every note every romantic whim that would sooth you

Hunger for a lean living light and fresh
Taking the strain out of once was a heavy life

Samba frees and our flux our breeze
meets my needs as life takes us somewhere when we help it and let it
leave us at ease