Sea Said

And feeling an exceptionally
Deciduous phase
I peeled my skin
To other days

You were there
And I was too
In my flat
As winter grew

We had tea
On wooden chairs
Spoke in symbols
On two squares

You told a tale
Of another Sea
My presence pale
In poverty

The fruit on plates
Mocked farm hands
From the States
No foreign lands

The music calm
As I disrobe
On your palm
You spun the globe

Just a memory
All but lost
I’m brewing tea
In morning frost

And feeling an exceptionally
Deciduous phase
Pouring tea
As my pen strays

With fruit on plates
In poverty
Another now waits
To sip your tea

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The Game of Life

At times, in this life, I am a bubble in the wind; random and aimless. This life? Well, this life just didn’t seem to materialize as I had hoped. I didn’t plan, I did not know. Sometimes, I was too stoned, or too drunk. I  could not quite get to the plate to bat; I was too wasted to find the bat; I was forever the outfielder waiting to catch something that was an elusive whim. I stood there, behind the diamonds of dreams, and dropped every ball, rare and stinging. I heard it plop as it reached my hand and bounced into another’s. I watched with wide eyes, and a beatless heart. It was as if it sailed my way to remind me, there is life here, and a good life, but not for you. You cannot catch this life. It was not meant for you to grasp, but we would like you to know all you miss. We don’t want you to know you lost the game, but that others around won and while you wept, they clutched their ball like the world, the globe in their hand was a reminder, you have failed at every attempt, at every swing you took, you struck out like a champ.
 Isn’t it a great comfort to know Reggie Jackson had the most strike outs, and hails in the hall of fame?

Your Secret

Your secret
Stands on two tall legs
I recognize her
As I was once
Someone else’s
Secret dunce
Hidden between
The betrayal
Of an ego’s screen
She did not know
Nor did I 
We were blameless
Hands and eyes
Blinded by 
A lover’s guise
Tending to fevers
Sweeping floors
While the other
Was out of doors
Your secret stands
On two tall legs
Her footsteps pure
Devoid of rue
She seems to stand
Much taller than you