Watercourses

Primeval drops concealed
in meteorites cascading
on a coagulating planet
where temperatures dove,

just enough to hoard
the lymph gingerly forming
oceans springing life, birthing
after many million years

of labour humans, hiding
inside their beings composing
their bodies dooming,
them endlessly to need

liquid blue paragons covering
the surface of a rocky sphere,
while only few dare to dig in
deeper. Of the entire treasure only

one percent can quench
the thirst of living creatures yet,
as all diamonds on Earth entice
ignoble notes of greed,

the exchequer is governed
by unfair rulers careless
of the poor, albeit their poverty
is by them imposed.

I spoke words of water
cycles to the kids who walked,
miles with buckets to polluted rivers,
frantically running to place

rusted containers under
sporadic tropical rains. They listened
and looked at me in awe,
uncomprehending why

some had less and some had more.
To date each time I open
the faucets each drop,
reverberates my gratitude

as my skin absorbs, particles
saddened by the unjust
sharing of a gift
given to us by stars.

[Featured photo: Human Compassion Organisation, Ghana 2013]

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Choking on passion

Deferral an insidious skulking mortal
born out of apathy where tenacity is held.

Creeps through nerves leaving trails
of poisonous narcotics, pulls on the strings
of a fragile brain.

Feeds on a grit in lethargy
mind desperately seeks to awake,

contaminates ambitions by turning
desires into dreams.

Finds it death by chocking
On gulps of great passions and resolve.

[Featured painting: Soft Watch at the Moment of First Explosion by Salvador Dali, 1954]

Words of inspiration

My dearest friend I retrieved my old
fountain pen today to pour, on canvas
note papers my doubts, feelings
of dire necessity for I, need of you a favour.

I confess I find myself confused, in the mist
of nothingness unable to decipher my scope
at a crossroad blocked, in front of a sign
which says ‘Stop!’ .

Buxom lands enticing with chimeras
on my right, nature’s might sparkling splendours,
colourful vibrations I perceive, notes of purifying
silence echoing the songs of inhabitants untouched,

by mind queries existential enquiries it feels,
beautiful and lonely over there. Then again,

I see buildings reaching for the skies
on my left, lights bright, people frantically in motion,
they seem to have a purpose and a mission,
places to go, things to do, dreams to make come true.

Some of them create oeuvres revealing grandeur it feels,
challenging and crowded over there. Yet ahead,

of me are unfolding sceneries of possibilities awaiting
as I loiter and expect, your card a few words
I beg of you of inspiration but, please hurry my friend
as a line is about to turn into a jam, behind me.

My precious me I received your letter
with affection comprehending qualms.
Do not dwell any longer for your confusion
is unfunded. The nothingness you feel

does not exists all is, perpetually becoming
including us human beings, fragile creatures
uncomprehending the essence of our journey
yet eager to select, a direction giving sense,

of control not of purpose. Though you are
at a crossroad know you are not compelled
to choose, you can have it all by giving up
control, let your spirit lead you where it wills

and bare in mind, to be happy and just all the time.
Treat your likes with kindness and keep smiling,
look forward for what you call “ahead” is only
a matter of perspective. Yours sincerely, me.

[Featured painting: Crossroads by Lizi Beard-Ward, 2012]

Love to me

I will be born in fourteen hours
thirty-seven years ago,
from the labour of my mother
into Doctor Lucatelli’s hands.

How could I have known or did I
the amazing wondrous life reserved,
the privileges in store the blessing
of a consciousness that dares.

I will be a happy child, emanating joy,
adults and elders will listen to my stories
imbued with my essence, imbrued in fantasy
sparkling smiles.

In my teens they will compliment me
on my wisdom and gentleness, sense
of responsibility, little will they know
the freedoms I’ll enjoy, the libertine notes.

By the age of majority I will defy
death, a fight to see who’s stronger
needless to say, I will win over and over again,
I’ll get acquainted with myself.

I’ll graduate and find a job, have a kid
at twenty-three, a second four years later
a lifetime friendship with their adorable father.
I’ll be successful in building projects for others.

Until I won’t. I soon will realise what I want
find my courage and decide, to become
rather than merely be, me. Fast-forward
another ten years, see books be published,

indulge in writing poems,
study the universe and the mind,
observe as if it was my first day,
beginning in fourteen hours.

[Featured photo: me by leo]

Calling David

This is ground control
I sneaked in to give you a call,
it’s been a while and I yet wonder
are you still floating ‘round your tin can?

Since you launched in sixty-nine
not much has changed on planet Earth,
though Voyager one has left the system
recording sounds of Interstellar Space.

Its batteries are running low
but then other probes are on their way
rest assure, they are not searching for you
you’ve been forgotten long ago.

Scientists still question whether
indeed there is life on Mars,
planning missions to get there
we’ll leave in fifteen years or so.

Some are drawing domes forsaking
tragedy, creatively painting our escape.
Mickey Mouse has packed his suitcase,
left Minnie waiting in a bar.

Modern telescopes point to discover
exoplanets not too far, just in case,
some residing habitable zones
orbiting nearby stars.

This is ground control
I hear footsteps in the corridor,
have to run will call you again
until then I’ll keep taking care,

of your Diamond Dogs.

[Featured painting: Diamond Dogs for David Bowie’s album by Belgian artist Guy Peellaert, 1974]

Hi, I’m in New York

My heartbeat increases
compelling me to focus
on deeper breaths,

as lungs crave abundance
of oxygen required
by a puzzled mind,

wondering why
such an absurd feeling
creeps from within,

for someone I
barely know so far away,
imagining your essence

deportment and behaviour,
thoughts and feelings
of a man, a stranger,

I wont hide I find
myself elaborating dreams
so many times,

I have seen you
for the first time
in a bar, on the street,

sometimes I
call you out of nowhere
to say ‘hi,

I’m in New York’.

[Featured painting: Yesterday’s Dreams by Jack Vettriano, 1994]

Sakamoto’s rain

Long fingers, strong
as those of a pianist, maestro
entrancing as he strikes ivory
keys unleashing,
hypnotising notes gently
opening with an adagio,
softly incalzando to an allegro
keeping tempo, beating rhythm
to intimacy only awaiting,
reverberation.

[Featured painting: Murder Me For Nickels by Robert McGinnis]

[Title reference: Rain by Ryuichi Sakamoto https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8tKfYwc4zxA%5D