Borderline

 

Foggy-Day

 

Strong, black coffee on a frosty November day,

The thrills of the birds transform bricks into clay

An amalgam of broken emotions fly and they may

Yesterday I begged disillusion to stay!

Imaginary thoughts trapped in a box

Spin with fervor and hunt like a fox.

Desirous to impose a reality of their own,

Suppress the world as it is known.

But despair not, you lost soul

You tossed and you turned until you found coal.

And misty indifference veiled the magic at dusk

The empty contents struck as poison in a flask!

Daydreaming

 

A red lucky moving hand Japanese cat

Looks insistently at a Westerner with a hat

The street barbecue floats in fat

The teachers gave a talk to a random Matt

A handsome Korean on an Alvar Aalto chair sat

Another daydreaming session in a café

With my pet the rainbow bat

The letters of a faded, burnt postcard

Rotate with fervor in a mental hospital ward

Imaginary friends eat a bowlful of lard

The emperor’s castle collapsed and killed the bard

The foundations of this fantasy story are hard

Covered in milk the lamp seems a tart

I am stuck in a corner; I am Alice in love with a leopard

At the counter full of cakes there is a clown

The odd collection of teaspoons fell down

The construction worker, the nurse, the guard are all sound

But the sofas, the fluorescent walls, the plants are bound

Are chained to my notebook while they drown

In the room there is a single crown

The queen lost, the plot was written by my hound.

Becoming

 

He called me frivole!

Cold in the wind of winter

I saw the word as a binder,

Hot, bitter, sour in a mug

Frivolous!

He called me addicted!

Flinging and clinging with desperation

The word brought into mind frustration,

Illusion, delusion, necessity are sweet

Addictive!

He called me désolée!

A fading color leaf in autumn

I took the word as utterly forgotten,

In flight and dance of rouge created

Desolated!

 

Childhood

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In the middle of the green fields

I was alone,

I was in reverie

Thinking, dancing, mumbling

Existence was soft

Was as easy as picking scented flowers

Nectar filled plants

Listening to bees

Tasting the grass

Hearing the wind whispering

My dreams of growing up

Got caught up in spider’s webs

And playing games

Was not for wining, was not for losing

Running around

Stealing fruits

The value of goods

Was in sharing

Children on the streets

Jumping in the rain

Building bridges in the mud

The sweet taste of childhood

Lies in its simplicity.

Late mornings

By late I don’t mean 12 

By late I don’t mean oversleeping 

Late mornings 

When your coffee is a must 

When you hurry at each step 

When you grasp for breath 

When you sweat through all your pores

When your taxi is a snail 

Late mornings 

Are uncomfortable 

Late mornings 

Are a reminder 

That society is unforgiving 

That you must, you must, you must 

Damn it, be on time 

Or before time, ahead of time, on top of time

This freaking time concept 

I hate it! 

Time should serve us

We should not be slaves to time 

So I beg you, please!

Whomever you might be…

My boss, my cat, my friend, my dog, my lover

Allow me to be late 

Just for a little while

Cuz you might be me 

And I might be you 

Just give me some time 

To have my late mornings

It’s not a tragedy 

A crime

A drama. 

One day I will kill ‘Time’

And fearlessly, joyfully 

Bury ‘Early’ and ‘Late’