Doomsday doesn’t sound so bad
after all
If the neighborhood is no longer
overrun by what seems to be a league
of feral cats, if they all perish
If the radio gains some silence
and we have more than a crackle
of signal lost to keep us enamored
If there are still rivers where we can
sit, even with two heads instead of one,
basking in an atomic afterglow.
More at http://jddehartwriting.blogspot.com.
What more can I say?
This beautiful woman
lived in my house
and now she is gone,
sailing or flying,
swimming or walking.
I don’t know where.
So please,
tell the woman
I live with now
it’s time again
to drop the paisley
over the parakeet.
I’ll be upstairs,
tell her,
getting ready for bed.
More at http://booksonblog12.blogspot.com/.
I don’t want wisdom.
I don’t want truth.
I don’t want love.
I don’t want peace.
I don’t want revolution.
I don’t want sex.
I don’t want God.
I don’t want fame.
I don’t want power.
I don’t want faith.
I don’t want hope.
I don’t want passion.
I just want one more clever thing to say
on social media.
More at http://17numa.wordpress.com/.
My morning clean and clear eyes
The best place to fall on them
For something fresh, cool and nice.
The same old park of monotony
For daily jogging, walking and refreshing–
Was my routine- wise morning destiny.
Exhausted body and monotonous mind
Compelled me to sit for a while
On a bench with a bush behind.
Luckily the morning was dutiful
In awaking up my dormant fortune
To witness a jogging girl- fresh and beautiful.
What a thrill it was! The jogging–
She jogged freely round and round
But made me submerged in sweating.
A heart-quake was felt
To shed down my synthetic seriousness
And to heat my heart to melt .
I discovered my naughtiness
As my protruded eyes and inquisitive mind
Jogged behind her as shameless.
Slowly the sun came the park inside
Made the girl tired and brought her
About to me to sit beside.
She wished me, “Good Morning,”
But ensnared and watchful I was
To her ups and downs of quick breathing.
“Hey Mister, where are you?” she enquired
And brought me back into the reality
From fantasy where I was quite ensnared.
On my stammering in reply,
She sketched a curved smile
And rewarded me her first and last good-bye.
They scatter and they run as I open my door.
And when I look again, there are no more.
They run away all scared with fright.
They hide in my walls to keep out of sight.
And when I’m ready to leave and close my door.
They return again to dance upon my floor.
Then I suddenly reach out and I grab, I gotcha .
And when I look into my hand I see la cucaracha.