VERSES IN PERPETUITY | A STUDY OF INSOMNIA

MY FATHER

There is our father;
The man of deep pockets,
Of ten wives and fifteen children.
There he goes with his gold and his bulge
And his garlic stinking breath,
Staining the world with his waddle,
With his grating voice,
With his empty noise.
There is our father indeed.

He dances like the dancing cowries
On the feet of chalked toes.
He gives his tales like cherished gifts
To strangers after a bottle or two.
He dances with the little girls,
In pinafores who hang on street corners
Hoping to find love in the dark chilly night.

The smoke has cast a shadow on his lips
And his words are tainted with spittle,
Ashes and dust;
He is my father but he is lost.
He is my father but he is dust,
Blowing naked in the wind.

SILENT LIPS

Silence;
The stolen lips
That shutter thoughts
Between grinning teeth.

Violence;
The painting of truth with blood,
Of fear with the desperate color of hate,
Of God with the fallacy of knowledge,
Of death with silence.

People;
Living beneath the bridge,
Bathing in the sea
And praying for the sun to come, to heal.
Waiting and waiting for something to happen,
Then try to be happy
When it does happen to someone else.

MUSIC INFINITE

The music whined at its end.
The orchestra had the last line
Within the guitar string,
A pluck and it whined again and
The crowd screamed for more.
The orchestra dropped the silence
Of a concluded concerto
And the hall caught it
In awed whispers muttering
From seat to seat, then
The guitar grinned and a solo
Slid into the limelight;
Riffs after riffs of immense gifts
Spilled between the soft tinkling melody
Of a triangle pausing and starting
Each frayed riff at the end of string.
Two reefers burned to keep the lights on
As bars after bars fell between
Each plucked note, each story, each key
Each music.

GIVE US A MINUTE

Give us a minute to live.
Let us breathe the salty sea,
Let us wriggle our toes
With the warm gritty sand.
Give us a minute
To catch our breath,
To catch a smile, a laugh
Between a tale of life.

For the air has gone stale
With old pain and tears
Have dug runnels
Into the soil of our hearts,
breeding coarse bodies
That hold no love within
Just the scent of death.

Give us a minute to live,
To fall in love,
To dream and see the future
Brightly etched on the skin of time.
Let us feel the dew on our eyelids
And pick seaweeds from between
Seashells, old rudders and dead things.

END