She asked for a lampshade
For the tenth time
He ignored her for the eleventh time
There was that other time
She didn’t ask but he knew.

She stopped asking
He stopped noticing
There is that divide between them now
The lampshade is forgotten
He never told her why.

She asked for a lampshade
For one more time
She thought before leaving she should
He collapsed crying
With open hands

I don’t have the money
He said
We are poor, don’t you know
Now she knows
But why doesn’t matter anymore
After awhile reasons
And lampshades loose their appeal.

October 18, 2017

Posted in Disappointment, dreams, poem, poetry, Relationships | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Drops and nuggets

A chicken piece as a small as a morning drop
Drops in muddy flour and rolls

He applies another hammer to the stubborn
Rock that is wedged in the side
Of the short mountain

The chicken drop drops in the boiling oil
Left over from last night supper
The oil eventually find its way to the
Lamps that are lighting the caves

He finds his first nugget glistening in the
Winter’s sun, the light rays bounces of
The nugget every time his thumb
Rubs its face, a smile creeps on his face
The drops on his face become mirrors

She calls the missing children for
Dinner that is unhealthy and delicious
No one died from eating deep fried chicken
Nuggets she would argue or did they?
We all die eventually, the ghost voices
Reply cheerfully …

The drops on his face become mirrors
Reflecting her tired sadness,
A face ageing.

October 17, 2017

Posted in dreams, Food, Health, Philosophy, poem, poetry, reflections, thoughts | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Revolution undone

So long ago
There were few young ones
With ideals to rescue the world
From stagnation
That was reached
By old fat by-gone generation
That was tired so sought
The peaceful sleep.

No one remains young.

A change becomes a revolution
A revolution becomes cruelty
A cruelty requires a change
A cycle of revolting and
Undoing revolutions!

Once there was a revolution
There were few young ones
With ideals to rescue the world
From stagnation
Once there was a revolution
With different colours and
With different nationalities
A revolution has no nationality
An ideal voice from crowded room
In the history of crowds cries out
A revolution has no nationality
A revolution comes
A revolution becomes and
A revolution is undone.

History is a collection
Of nostalgic memories
Not meant to be learnt.

A revolution undone
History notes!

October 15, 2017

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Good, bad and indifference

A wise and good
Learns from their enemy
But never becomes like that enemy

A wise and bad
Classifies their enemy into
Good they destroy then claim never existed
Bad they encourage then use to justify themselves to their friends
Can you see how bad our enemy
Can you see how good I am

Majority neither wise nor good
So the world is always on the brink.

October 14, 2017

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Act of kindness

Act of kindness
That is ill informed

The old wonderer roamed
The narrow streets with his

There were few who paid
Him attention and were

He was shooed away
Often by hands, sometimes by
Real shoes.

Act of kindness
That is ill informed

His own act though
Its kindness disputed
Killed him,

For speaking truth in
The cloudy times of self righteousness
Is an act of stupidity and

The narrow streets are quiet now
The old wonderer is
No more.

We would use dead but it
May offend the sensitivity
Of viewers!

October 14, 2017

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Her shirt

I smell the collar of her shirt
The morning after
Her sweat is sweet
The scent of her perfume is fading
What remains is memory.

October 13, 2017

Posted in Adultery, Adulthood, love, Love Poems, poem, poetry, reflections, Relationships, romance | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment


There is a dragon
Always a dragon
Always flying
In her dream
She wakes up sweating
Her dreams don’t come often.

There is a girl running
Always running
Always a girl
In his dreams
She is eaten inside out
By a dragon followed by exclamation mark.

Shouldn’t be a question there
In his dreams he is always talking
Often to himself
Her dreams don’t come often
So alone dreamer he wonders
What happened to the girl
What happened to the dragon
What happened to the story without end.

A dragon was found wondering the streets
With blood stains
With a tag stapled to its ear
No questions were asked.

Her dreams are still hunted
By dragons
She tries not to dream
She doesn’t sleep.

She catches flies
Look them in the eye
Under magnifying glass
In search of the flying dragon
That’s hunting her dreams.

She doesn’t sleep.

October 13, 2017

Posted in dreams, mental health, poem, poetry, psychology, reflections, Relationships, thoughts | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments