come, stay and let's talk. it's a good day to be alive
language is your home, I realized
after having wandered a bit too far
from a place I used to call home
these codes weaves in squiggly lines
are soaked with scents of someone’s skin,
freshness in a breeze, and warmth of a smile
I cried alone in a dark kitchen
as I stared into bones of this chicken
I realized how bony it has become
just like the language I used to know.
7.5.2020
you may find your memory fizzling away
into sparkling joy of champagne
bursting glee of fireworks
but keep that candle light glow
it will slowly begin to grow
7.4.2020
have you realized that color blue
can be as scorching hot to someone as
someone who’s been holding an icecube
7.3.2020
no longer tethered are the arms and the legs
of a Phoenix who forgot its immortality
life of a longing is no more,but
life of a suffering may be a must;
I will continue to dance in fire
while my voice may turns hoarse in roar
for even if I fall again,
in remembrance of my
beloved one’s memory
I will stand up again.
7.2.2020
We’ll pay for this, regardless of choice
Point of attrition, with no apparent voice
Reasons lost with no sign of return.
Burning with purpose and regret.
7.1.2020
Forget about the last last ten minutes,
for what matters is the next ten hours,
a decade, and half a century, who know.
sure, memory should hold an honor
but glow in the moment of now.
6.30.2020
Feathers, soap bubbles,
All soak away in the rain
What remains is reframed
Into a question long lost in thought.
6.29.2020
Her tear drop turned into a steam under
unforgiving sun overseeing above in sky
steam climbing a column of legionary comrades
descending with more weights on its shoulders
than it formed into a glob of cold hail
rolling over and toiling in chaos
then it shot out of the sky crashing towards the surface
where it’s been born riding on a lightening bolt.
6.28.2020
Is this a shit or is this an aphrodisiac? a dung beetle asked.
rolling and honing this giant amorphous glob
all throughout the dark night until break of the dawn,
imbued in a tint blue hue
heart of a dung beetle beats with its small glimmer of hope.
pushing with its hind legs it prayed.
when the night unveils its shadows,
scorching sun excoriates its tiny little being.
when the sun sets. The dung beetle scoops up a glob,
rolling it with its hind leg.
6.27.2020
Cigarette, a cancerous stick, has ceased
to be in my grocery list, for I cherish this breeze
freshly squeezed out of green tree leaves.
Bittersweet it is though this is where it’s been
the last greeting of sweet sigh breathed and dreamed
as crimson yolk of sun set over the horizon of youthful steam.
6.26.2020
Ralph with Coffee 
You must be logged in to post a comment.