Poems

_____ impromptu Op. 1_____

Precariously I walk this trail,
careful to tread, careful to
prevent black cats from crossing my path.
A trail of a hundred steps walking pass and
seeing only broken pasts and empty tomorrows.

Of useless words, and unsaid things,
and lack of sincerity and propriety.
And yet we cling on, like silly monkeys
holding on to branches.

And yet in the even, it is what we choose to
let go, and what we choose to cling onto.
I cling unto you: my love.
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_______Train Rides________

They are as they are, sitting in the subway
passing stations to get near and afar.
The hard acrylic seats that warm after 30 seconds of sitting
and the hand rails that are
absolutely useless in hindering me from falling over.
Like tectonic plates the train rattles back and forth,
wishing for me to fall.

Announcements being made
in a English vernacular which
I am unable to comprehend.

Sitting here by the door,
commuters coming and going,
station after station,
like a parade of different nations.
Black, Yellow, Red, White
of different shapes and sizes.

Yet we are here, united, 6 feet underground
in a coffin, a grave on wheels.
Eventually we will all eventually end up,
like a hamster, dead in a box.
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_______Impromptu Op 2.________

Lyrical and completely hysterical
are the poems which one pens
of love and the droll affair of affection.

What be love and affection,
if my words did not match my actions?
What be love
if my heart be untrue and only
deception is what you know as truth?
What be love
if the waking moments of my day
were ne'er thoughts of you?
But of the mundane in yesterday's newspaper.

What be love, and what be the words that I write?
Do they coincide? Or perhaps just divide.
I know not, but as I say, what words can split the heart?
I love you
(just not from the heart)
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