In your eyes #1

in your eyes … … …

1.

As another day recedes,

enveloped under the shawl of night,

allow me to drown,
in your eyes.

Moments fleeting,
fickle hands of time unseeing,

allow me to seek solace,
in your eyes.

The trodden path littered with each shard,

regrets this heart wishes to discard,

so allow me to seek refuge,
in your eyes.

i have walked through twisting boulevards of life,

seeking simple joy, away from desolation, strife,

so allow me to find peace,
in your eyes.

2.

In your eyes,

i find,
the gentleness left behind,

away from superficial smiles,

away from fatigue of the walked mile.

In your eyes,

i feel,
at home at long last,

your love caressing away the restlessness of the past,

stepping out of the shadows to embrace pure contentment,

though a bit player,

in your life’s theatrical cast.

In your eyes,

i touch,
the flame of promise radiating through your loving light,

that is why,
i no longer dread,

the vacuum of encroaching night … … …

cents and sensibility

walking down pathways strewn with nettles,
swept along alleyways where dust settles,

always seeking respite from the nagging ache,
quarantined for a bit from society so fake,

where all that matters is the cash you rake,
throttling each other for the cents you make … … …

a disjointed scribble

Night creeps slowly in, easing through melted walls,
where random trysts quiver under a silver moon.

Numberless promises, oaths taken,
vows made only to be shattered,
into slivers of trust,
with each sliver swirling down,
into gutters filled with unheard cries.

Keeping your eyes open, wishing you were less pliant,
knowing that history rests on the other side,
where emotions are weapons,
where words are knives,
and soft caresses can wound,
where kisses can suffocate, where every dark shadow conjures up a melody woefully out of tune.

A life in limbo,
walking forward into a past of regrets,
fleeing the now while sipping on a bruised lip, draining foul images,
wiping away lingering doubts,
as you try to shriek,
hearing all nostalgia being snuffed out,
rattled by an exhausted love,
no longer tender whispers, more often than not vile disfiguring shouts.

Enough of self-pity,
to hell with introspection,
be gone idle moments,
mute nights,
tear-stained pillows, banishing it all to the other side,
while reclaiming what you once were deep inside, innocent and true,
naïve as ever,
when starry-eyed you listened,
believed,
all his promises that love would last forever.

Remember who that was, that brave question,
that sure answer,
remember that wide-eyed traveller,
that willing listener,
remember the smiling reflection in the mirror,
once free of pain,
of gloom.

Remember who you were,
to become who you must be,

and avert an imminent fast-approaching doom

dew and the rose … … …

serenading the glistening rose,
dew, like a solitary tear falls,

vanishing as dawn palls,
to the lilting sound of rustling leaves,
and melodic birdcalls …

Workers Day ( May 1, 2016 )

we shall always be many more

we who roast in your designer factories

our brows dripping with our salty sweat

we who may forgive but shall never forget

 

we shall always be many more

we who reek of cheap moonshine

we who stagger and often stumble

we whose stomachs never cease to rumble

 

we shall always be many more

we who polish your fine bone china

we whose pay gets docked if one cup is chipped

we who fight your wars, and off to battle get shipped

 

we shall always be many more

we who clean up after your pretty children

we whose kids are hungry, naked and get swept

into the bowels of desolation, as mothers’ tears are wept

 

we shall always be many more

we who do your dirty work each day

we who you treat like vermin, foul and rotten

we whose trampled dignity is always forgotten

 

we shall always be many more

we who will rise up and seize the light of hope

and reclaim what is ours for our daughters and sons

though we will always be in the cross-hairs of your guns

 

we shall always be many more

and there shall be many more of us still to come

to rid you of your smug arrogance and endless greed

for we too have children whom we have to feed

 

we shall always be many more

‘and the meek shall inherit the earth’

or something like that though we no longer care

for we shall rise up one day to demand our rightful share

 

we shall always be many more … … …

( with thanks to Ken Loach’s film ‘Tierra y Libertad’ )