Onegin

The thought

That I could refuse tomorrow,

What is due to my life;

That I may be denied the taste of love,

By the very one who loves me,

Who is undoubtedly mine,

Made for me!

How cruel can one be to oneself?!

 

Not all sorrow is caused by others,

It is sometimes self-inflicted,

By means of arrogance,

Or prior pain

Or plain misjudgement.

To be the cause

Of one’s own unhappiness

And having to live with it,

Is life’s greatest punishment,

Its greatest torture.

All for the sake of love,

Can we die alone! 

My African Fantasy

The freshly showered lady,

Waiting for her lover to return

And their intimacy to resume.

As he enters,

She awaits behind the door,

Just to catch a glimpse of his nightly ritual,

Of him, the man she loves:

He falls onto the couch,

Loosening his tie

In that same rhythmic way

Left to right and back again;

Then she follows his glance,

Knowing that he’s eyeing the ashtray,

Looking for that special part of the day,

When peace begins,

And the sun sets.

 

As familiarity resumes,

Their unison is witnessed

By the wildest of beasts: the lions!

His foreign accent,

Floating through the branches of the whispering trees,

Telling tales of warriors

And unforgotten love,

Myths of Kings and Goddesses;

All this,

Retorting the birds’ calls.

 

The envious lioness,

Searching for her prey,

In hope of a taste of the rush,

As are the two lovers on the deck.

As harmony is reached,

The African night appears,

Clear and mysterious,

Noises unknown, unwanted,

For sleep and calm takeover,

The evening’s run.

My Unicorn

The Queen of May

Covered in her long fur coat,

Telling me

That the white horse is there,

In all his splendour,

Shining from the Heavens.

She claims his light,

Pulling at his unicorn for more power;

But he is drained

Of all energy source:

Galloping for peace is a long road to follow,

A tough war to fight,

The Queen,

A hard woman to beat!

It whispers to me

That it can help no more,

I pray that it may,

That it finds the will, the strength

And sends more love to planet earth.

I dream of his magic,

Covering me at night,

Making sure that I’m tucked in tight.

I have faith in his goodness,
And I do believe,

That his love will save the world!

So my unicorn, don’t give up!

My Little Leprechaun

My little Leprechaun

Always on my shoulder

Whispering thoughts, unheard to others,

Convincing me

That he’s out there,

Somewhere,

Looking for me,

Waiting for my heart,

Wishing for my love,

Demanding what I can’t yet give,

My entire soul!

Why so?

Because I can’t tell you where

Or whom it’s with.

Something I have to discover still.

So, my little Leprechaun,

He’ll have to wait-up

Or move on,

Because what I have to offer

Is gone and not yet found.

Do not tell a soul

And do not make a sound,

For what I have lost,

Is not yet found.

Super Gay

On the search for love again my friend!

Always looking

For a sexier ass

And a comfier heart,

High class,

And he better be smart,

Cos you ain’t no tart!

Never settle for too little,

You deserve a free spirit

And a sincere soul.

Your love is so big,

That you share it

And give it away

With such ease,

But you’ve gotta keep a bit for yourself, darling!!

No hurry dear,

You have a whole life ahead,

And a bag full of smiles,

So don’t shed it all,

For a quick fuck,

After the ball!!

Unknown

Sharp images

Of unwanted Dogs

Howling past me,

Bleeding souls and fastened eyes

On what is Neverneverland.

The flowing mane

Of the unknown,

Unspoken thoughts;

Mind ruled by freaks

Falling from the skies

With naked hearts,

Showing torn pictures

Of things

I’ve never had or seen,

Not even

In my worst nightmares…

A Wannabe Clone

Inexhaustible shadows

Always casting

Over hopes

And fears.

They’re but so perfect,

Yet so unreal.

 

Distorted images of the truth

Multiplying and stretching

On what is pen ultimately correct.

A Trompe L’Oeuil

Disguised as ourselves,

A Wannabe.

 

Your sorry attempt as a shadow,

Craving my soul,

Grasping at my every breath,

At my freshness,

At my aptitude to be good at everything you are bad at

What a pitiful sight,

A thief

Who cannot rob,

Who’s being pursued

By what he doesn’t

And will never have.

 

You’re just a clone,

And you didn’t even manage that right.

You lack my passion,

You’d get the drought

After I’d quenched my thirst.

Too late again my friend,

Too late again.

Insomnia

Bloodshot eyes

Tortured ears

Blank brain.

Listening to Jazz again,

In the dark.

No moon tonight.

Smoked to many cigars,

Beginning to sound like Billie:

Scorched lungs – Dry mouth.

As fear arises,

Anticipation of the approaching rays,

Not wanting to deal,

With, you know, all that…

I think I’m blind,

My eyes are beginning to trip,

Inventing images

Of wild elephants

Ecstatic genies,

As the sun begins its ascent,

Reflecting once again

On the windows of my soul…

God I need a coffee,

Before I let the train

Move in.

Yay, the glory of a new day!