Falling

The words come
easy go
because I feel hard done
Oh woe is me woe is woe
Got a blue heart
Thrashing against my bones
Feeling thoughts, I don’t even know
The way the words are supposed to go
Building walls
Without foundations
Climbing ladders
With falling rungs
Maybe if I just smoke
All these things into my lungs
Till I’m bluer than grey
With my name etched in stone
More permanent than my existence
Are the words on my tongue.

Skies goodnight kiss

Sharp men stand on street corners
Broadcasting wealth on their wrists
As begging musicians spit
The rhymes from their unfiltered lips
And footsteps of women
Milling about, shopping for a little strange
A little glitz
Something that just…Oddly fits
Because it’s better to look handsome and beautiful
Than out of your wits!
Unlike the starving street musicians
now lying horizontally in doorways
for the skies goodnight kiss.
 

Lions.

Boys minds grow
With wild exuberance
As their eyes lay their claim
On stretched out backs
The women they shall never tame
For men are the domesticated
Not the women with whom they mated
After all that time, he waited
He finds himself frustratingly sated
Though wild blood still runs
Pooled in his guns
Waiting till the trigger is pulled
And there lays a lion
Who shall not be culled.

Meticulously made

Meticulously made
Self-indulgence dressed in plaid
Smoking pipes on resting Sundays
With the sharpest eyes
Of our yesterday’s
Music swinging between
Jazz and classical
For a man’s mind should only
Consume the fantastical
Something one can twirl his moustache too
No drooping eyes
Even if they’ve been up all night
Every day one shall wear a sheen of delight
One shall not drive Cadillac’s or porches
One shall be chauffeured in a Rolls Royce
And be terribly gay with the chauffeur boys!