if words were shell casings
they’d lie around your bedroom
murder by enchantment
yellow tape binding
the bouquet our bodies could make
chalk outlines
plotting our future real estate
somewhere in that frontier
we call the galaxy
if words were shell casings
then my tongue’s a trigger finger with the shakes.
people say that we should be
jealous of the sun
high up in its majestic glory
but i disagree
the sun envies us
rather
we
you and me
dreaming serenity
in a paradise all our own
needing nothing but our hearts
and the water
underneath its heated gaze.
i’ve trapped myself in words
shut away
from the sun that you’ve been
faded warmth
does more to drive me mad
than the silence
my lungs filled with a lifetime
of the joy i would give to you
constrict
collapse
and i will not miss my breath
if your name doesn’t decorate it
i’ve trapped myself in words
waiting for the moment
to break free in your embrace
i follow the flight of birds
and dream of the day
when we shall soar in each other’s spirit
like they do.
there are stars that have
burnt themselves out only to
give your eyes that shine.
i go back to that
quiet darkness that covered us
when i rubbed your stomach
as you sipped tea and serenity
and as you spoke
i lost myself in the birdsong
your words became
knowing you spoke
to keep fear at bay
and now that moment serves as the cup that warms me
in the cold silences without you.
imagine going to times square and seeing….nothing.
no gigantic billboards, no neon lights, no signs…just bare stone and glass.
well, apparently last year the mayor of sao paulo, brazil didn’t just imagine
it. he put it into action. in order to provide citizens with a clean city, he
put into action legislature that called for the removal of all advertising.
in time, he did make allowances that after a while, regulated advertising
would return to sao paulo.
i’m mixed here. mainly because i’ve grown accustomed to the vibrant tapestry
of ads and posters and signs that adorn walls, skyscrapers and high-rises.
combining that with the tags and burners of native artists, random handbills
and bumper stickers denoting every viewpoint under the sun, and you have a
continuous flow of words and images. but at the same time, i can appreciate
the easy tranquility of a space without blaring signs. it may work in sao
paulo. i don’t know if other cities would follow suit.
i see it in your eyes
caught between hard rock
and my hard place
and your face tells me
para
but your eyes
are greedy like virgin politicians
jacking peter to pay paul who’s trickin’ on mary
and then you mutter
another name for the creator
as i trace my last kiss on your neck
i made sure to check your smile
to see if you forgot me
and i saw myself locked away safe
in the slow blush of your cheeks
weeks will pass between us
and so will emotions
except the one
that lies at the tips of our fingers
and behind cautious lips
Go to the edge of the cliff and jump off. Build your wings on the way down.
– ray bradbury
rain speaks of slumber
covers the world with blankets
of grey and white quiet.
your lips
are impulse travelers
at one point wishing to be struck
on earth with self doubt and disbelief
and in the next breath
wanting to live in the warmth between us
adrift in the cold void
of uncertainty
i gravitate to you
my brilliant star
hoping to reach you
before our light fades away.
ofwineandwords 