Somewhere off the coast

A hundred legs bend and straighten across the nylon sea floor
All in their own directions, their own degree of haste and sails
The low lights dull our faces as the footfalls dull our ears
Down the concrete steps the bladder almost busting
Past the half burnt carts of food vendors and peddlers

Then into the overpowering light and stench of the public toilet
The hand size square white tile walls stained with mystery colors
The cleaners running desperately in and out of each bathroom
Like a dog fish into the concaves of the coral reef
heaving soaked mops as if it were a flaming heavy lance
As quickly as I entered did I leave

The bus a whale beached
Still empty
A tweeking cellphoner here and there
The bus flips it´s tail down we´re gone
as if the city were an ocean that shone

Blabbin bearded elf

The blab elf speaks for sport
Yeah a tad, but this beard comes a little short
and a thousand social norms dictate and pinch
that you graciously grow it another inch

And wherever you pick fruit from the orchard
Know it is about as appropriate as that inch too short
The blab elf has not devised a progress report
At the monthly meeting he pulls his wild card

And the same old buzzword pops like popcorn
at around the time they need some hype horn
Those lips between that facial hair start to flap
It´s crowding his mouth like a bristly welcome mat

Best of luck to the blab
They hired him on his gift of the gab
But off his chin there was hardly enough to grab
Make it last they say, don´t make it a twinkling fad

Chin up I said, though didn´t share his persuasions
Good luck with your corporate fruit picking and private frustration

Grease monkey down Jule´s bones

Twenty five layers of grease have accumulated
It´s as stained as the way of life fake gold plated
Idle and smiling no sweat
five millimeters of ash hanging off the cigarette

Dirty brown hair tangled through with grey snakes mucky
Out in the pre-midday burn as happy as they were lucky
local snacks half emerging from oily paper bags
A sudden twitch of desire shakes a joke close to bragging

another burst of laughter as their customer´s truck appears
pulling in and pounding down a gear to make a repair
The ash falls and eyes raise up at the sound
The idle smiles curl back round

Zipping up soot soaked jump suits work I´m afraid
The end of the day is still a year a way
Back into the shadows of the workshop
Coffee pot down to the last dark drop

A sudden twitch of desire to get a joke in
but soon subsides as the customer shows him what´s broken

Breeze to monday for tools

Breezing past the two motionless tools
tools that should love each other
Work and boredom collide
The word mediocre gets thrown around

Two mediocre tools stalled
Who just hang on the wall
waiting for Monday
Waiting to earn pay

And the breeze passes by
but the screens is all they feel
the dead screens and the weeks obligations
They slowly forget they were born to feel

Born with more ambition to be sedentary
More physical energy than to be stationary
They don´t care anymore showing every sign
They can´t relate they just make the deadlines

King of eternity

King of eternity

Often I falter even when the stretch is flat and easily navigated
Like the wet sand within the tides reach
The dizzying sky calling you from all directions with it's winds
and the crash of the waves distracting you from your journey
Just empty shores undone sea

And suddenly you've stood on a shell
You limp and hear the wind taunt all is not well
The waves rush and attempt to trip you up
Turn on the wet sand and see god holding the shell
Justifying eternal sanity's useful silence

Not a religious figure not a miracle or illusion
Not a blinding light or sacred shining spirit
Just god in plain cloth offering you the shell
listening to you in a way that makes you feel he's speaking
Juggling empathy, sincerity, untainted sympathy

Just when you thought there was no other confidant
No other source of comfort, nothing
just you walking lonely upon the empty shores
But you were wrong and he is present

wind burned but clean he makes you believe
That our plight lies so far from our pain

Teeth, tongue and Digestion

One side of the table is in the shadow
redness and shadow
Doubt surrounds the optimistic at that table
Friends went ahead and tried to discourage love

Sharp teeth surround the gums humid and loud
The nature of the mouth
with it's soft tongue
touching the teeth as if to mock them

That it can taste
but the white mashers just crush
Working to provide the flavor
turning the world to mush

without a hint of aroma
The bad news just rolling off the tongue
Like snowballs accumulating

One side of the table the kids sit in the shadow
complaining about the lack of food
Rest of the house in darkness
Life's desire somewhere near the pit of the stomach

looking back at the inner throat nostalgically
as she falls into the bath