come, stay and let's talk. it's a good day to be alive
let there be love,
not the cheap kind,
but one with freedom
imbued with honey
matured with warmth
of those working arms
let there be love,
not the showy cold one,
but with softness with
likeness of furs of a chubby
white Angora kitty
let there be love.
12.5.2021
do we stab at each other
thirsting for love?
a fresher kind of love,
the lustful look, thrill
of youth, risk, and rich?
in a city of backstabbing,
bats fly about like butterflies
in the dark night sky
luminous with luscious skyscrapers
12.4.2021
just one more game,
I feel alive, unlike ever before
heck, even that Hemingway’s
been on his race horses
so let me have this rush, come on!
I deserve this, I survived today
let me have my game already!
let me live the life!
yet you realize
there’s a mountain load of work.
yup, go back to your cave
and start digging away your work
12.2.2021
red dot on my phone
I think how happy I’d be
if I see your warm thoughts
unveiled underneath the app
absence of your words
strikes like a burning hammer
like the grey sky of an empty city
like a shadow of a bird who chirps
12.1.2021
in a dark silent corner of a library
a single lamp light is lit.
deadline looms overhead
like an unpaid apartment rent
a heart cannot be jailed by deadlines
so it pumps the blood out to catch up
as golden seconds slip through fingers
madly tap-dancing on a keyboard
11.27.2021
in that moment, I happened to stare up
towards the brown-bricked wall
painted in plain lemon yellow color
and the orange sunset light
all that refracted light from branches
fell on the wall, silently, and softly.
at that moment, I remembered vaguely
yes, I used to think sentimentally.
I used to smile nostalgically at the
warmth of a mother bird cooing the babies
in her nest, ever so protected from outside
word, so warm and fuzzy and soft and safe —
I almost forgot that previous version of me,
which, I think is only a thought or two away
from now, used to have overflowing feelings.
I — it was at that moment I realized — had
promised myself that I would come back.
that once all these battles incurred by
pesty intruders were finished, I’d come back.
That we would smile, feel easy with trust,
and make jokes whose smile won’t stop
once we were done with just this one job.
but then I saw my hands and they were rusty
they were the hands that tasted the prize.
they were hungry and the would not stop.
everything made sense. everything was logical. everything was justified.
my heart was hallowed with flames of justice.
my spine, thickened with battle scars.
then, alone in the park, when no one wanted
me, I stared at the bricked wall, bouncing off the warm orange sunset light with shades of
bare tree branches,
and I realized:
I used to be soft.
I used to have feelings.
I used to cry for the mother bird.
when I stop, will I ever lay my head again
to the soft songs in the warmth and beauty?
will I be forgiven?
will I know it was worth it at the end?
I walked back from the park
and the darkness fell
but that light in my eyes wouldn’t go away.
perhaps it is the beginning of everything after all.
11.15.2021
a potato on fire rolls down the hill,
in the darkness of night sky, it is a shooting star.
what is there to lose, when we are already losing to ever faster speed of time.
better to rock and roll, bumping into things
and cracking things open, such as your heart,
so that it will shed all the dirty residues
and shine as the purest gem.
it hurts, it’s supposed to hurt.
don’t let go of that grip of your grit
and get on with it. see things for yourself.
good things are out there.
11.13.2021
stranded alone in a dark river,
the moon, pinned high above,
only solaces the ant’s waiting
and hopes for a new beginning.
the ant stretches its six legs
grasping onto ephemeral reflection
of the moon on dark river,
its every breath to save the moon.
standing alone in the dark river
I stare at the ant, whispering words
perhaps as a prayer of some sort.
10.27.2021
when the heart aches,
and it’s raining all over,
bright day’s long way to go,
smile.
smile, not only out of spite,
but from a goodwill too
it won’t last forever,
but nor will this pain be too.
10.15.2021
this thin air is too painful to bear
ticking of a wall clock
thickening of Merlot
all await for an inevitable Big Bang
but we must talk the talk
and walk the walk.
7.19.2020
Ralph with Coffee 
You must be logged in to post a comment.