Fragments

An old man walks in the backyard
as my eyes sit in the front porch
gazing into a dark beyond,
It is hard to tell what he searches for,
I cannot see the tides in a sea of smoke
burning down this house
This is probably his story
pocketed and sewen with my words,
His heart shivers under the needle
of a slowly dissolving night
I want to wake up and lead him
through the advent of misery
delayed upon him,by decades
But it is better to just look away

Losing a thought in spring

In spring they say,the rain will fall over the precipice.An ocean that has wandered along every dry shore in search for its gold crown is flowing through my eardrums causing my thoughts to swim.The bubbles of air escaping my lungs are like little balloons the flights of which capture the day's essence.
They rise and rise as far as the eye can see.The surface calm as an uprooted tree after a storm with arms as wide as the longing for a fire. A bubble  pierces the surface at which after its first enlightment it is met with the thud of a wave crashing over its head.And there it is,lost in the melee of unrecognizable agents of nature,the thought i had.

Thieving her heart away,i lost mine

Abloom at the heart of her cosmic size
is a grey canopy,the shadow of which
drizzles along her little firm hands

I have often glowed like a tumor
inside a neon bulb
the cusp of whose light is
where we kissed and disappeared
like the first sign of disillusion

A scarlet ribbon pillaged
for an aeon across the oceans
to pay the price for separated existences,
is only just as warm as the one around her belly

I calm myself,for its the jinx of not falling in love
hanging on to a shredder of dispositions

I could lose myself,trying to steal
the seeds of her yield
from the village she built
the first waters where to arrive,
kissed her feet

But she finds me..each time

The last birth of the straight road

I searched an old man's coat for
the last thing i could remember about him
Inside,i found three dead crows,
tied beneath his nipples,
There were dogs with their ribs
scattered over the pavement,that would walk
upto him to snuff
his soul and return to being bones
everytime the sun fell flat at his feet

He did not bark till his last breath
dropped back down his throat
Death was the only house on the curb
he couldn't cross,
for beyond the graveyard,they say
"the road is straight"

Lemonade and a hangover

As whisky can be a reason to leave home,
water lacks the unorthodox walk back,
the feline burps of excitement into each
others nostrils is the closest one comes
to falling in love overnight,
which once over is a heterosexual's
homosexual dream

Lasting

Walking down the street,
walking up which,i was
"dead and buried"

for Annie,hang in there dear friend

3:34 am

All this time,when i was trying
to get myself to go to sleep,
this rock,that i had not enough
money in my wallet to buy,
fell into sea
after thousands of years of being
hung over its enormous belly

It sank like silence at a funeral,
right down to the ocean's pelvis
where it may rest untouched,
like the sky by my wings
as long as men have funerals to go to
and the occasions of night
to wander into each other's lives
close eyed,or lick the floor off the dust
with eyes open like mine