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A tear runs down the sword.
As it stand erect in the earth’s soil.
Shimmering, reflecting, the sunlight.
Cold and hard edged in gold.
Whose sword, whose history.
Handled in gold, and precious gems.
Lain.
Slain.
At the side of a perfect work of art.
Besides its master.
It stands a marker.
…of a lady (presumptuous)
She thinks she knows him
She assumes too much
How unbecoming
While the only thing he assumes
is room temperature
How death becomes him
The air feels hot tonight.
A chill runs down the spine.
A feeling that’s not right.
But in ones heart, its fine.
She stands and looks at you.
Is that your cue.
Do you stand back.
Retreat, not attack.
And admire her vision.
Your illusion.
Sweet scented breeze.
A smell that will please
My leave are bent,
and my petals wilted.
Reality can be cruel.
Knowing that it won’t rain for ages.
Clouds will form but they only tease
and the sun beats down harder
now than
yesterday.
Oh yesterday was bad, but today will be worse.
Ugliness will soon replace what once was beautiful.
Hot dusty earth where once was rich and comfortable
earth.
All my roots are shriveled. My precious
roots that once gave
me life, now only keep me in the same spot.
Empty of liquid and of life.
this is a word
this is pain
word gave birth to pain
an armed word penetrated
an innocent man
(C)2007.7.5 Lenny of Cohen
Don’t look away from me
Because our night is slowly ending
I can’t stand to be away
I can not let you leave
My heart can not stand to be
Away from yours
But look my way and see
Something we are all looking for
From the beginning to the end
‘Cause now we have finally found
A love that holds such sturdy ground
When we see what we have…
Beneath all this hate, there’s a love to be found
A heart so heavy, you’d leave it on the ground
A hand that hurts is a hand that loves
And the one calls is the one that cares
And I know my heart is a lonely place to live
But everyday it gets colder, and there’s nothing left to give
the chubby hippo eats much more
than his allotted share,
I candidly declare,
of fibrous roughage,
developing within a gross surplusage
that makes his lower tummy sore
eventu’ly he must make room
by light of nightly moon
(and that from womb to tomb)
and to do so, I trust,
indeed, from time to time
said hippo potty must.
I won’t
bother you
with all my
collagen credentials.
in my rush
to get here,
I dropped them
on a curb
with a verb
somewhere
in the street
out there,
complete
with a stack
of my potentials.
there blooms the redly rose
that so scents the air
to delight my eye and nose.
why! she grows, nobody knows.
as far as I can tell,
that’s about as far as it goes,
I suppose.