There is a pub next door to a beauty salon,
On the main street of our town.
Men go there to drink.
All day and every day.
Next door to a beauty salon
On the main street of our town.
He stands,unsteady in the doorway
Pulling on the remains of a roll up cigarrette.
Lungs,already weak,inhaling right down to the last ash
.
Unkempt,unshaven,his eyes unsteady stare at nothing.
No longer believing in life, love or that tomorrow,
next week or year will be better.
Unlike the young girls, beaming with life,
sitting inside the beauty salon,next door to the pub,
On the main street of our town.
of understanding you
until I can correctly
identify colors
Green is to me
my mother's eyes
in the morning
when she laughs
at a rich joke
while we nibble
cantaloupe
and make fun
of our husbands’
idiosyncrasies
Yellow is in the nature walks
I take with students before lunch
and optimism is in the heart
of every red cardinal
that twitters down
at our scrambling
scrounging
I see you
clearly
to the fiber
of every insecurity,
unshaven hair,
awkward fumbling
and uncertainty
from morning coffee
to evening regrets
over wine and verbosity
you look introspective
when you talk after nine
at night, before the lonelier
barred owl hoots
and we sleep on separate spheres
of the same queen bed
You share leftover memories
of the weeping willow
that fell
and almost uprooted you
The pictures
remember you
from misordered time
of Christmas when reality
held its breath
and we had a day
of suspended reality
Yorkshire pudding and roast beef
We were the ones that broke the rules
of love, and rhythm
Tahira died before
her Swan's song was sung
or maybe I wasn't listening
Mozart, you were a lesser man
than my sister was to me
I am tired and thirst
far from having any erotic feelings,
too hot for a 'nookie,' the last thing on my mind.
Here in the stifling heat surrounding our camp site,
I keep traipsing back and forward to the eskie
to get an ice cold drink, and wet my face cloth.
Passing my husband, I see his hot sweaty face,
I laugh to myself and say
" No hints of an erotically charged afternoon today."
He is also hot, tired and thirsty,
heat has a way of sapping one's energy!
Perhaps? if a cool change arrives
we may change our minds, and
fall into a passionate, erotic embrace.
'I don't think so'
The only erotic thing in my vision is
my husband wrapping his lips around his cigarette,
performing slow drawback's and blowing smoke rings
Or curling his fingers around the radio knob
to change the radio station.
I gaze at his rough, unshaven face, and
think to myself 'Pash Rash' if
caught in erotic twists and turns -
'No thanks.'
Here I sit rain or shine, holding nothing but a simple sign….
I’m just like you, aren’t we from the same God? Yet nobody sees me, my heart beats just as yours, my eyes are covered up by my long unkept hair, unshaven beard, no shelter I have, but this cardboard box..
I know your name, but you don’t see me, my heart is heavy, my tears I shed you cannot see, my life has took an unwanted path, all I ask for is a hug. I’ve made my share of mistakes in life, my bed is made, now I must sleep in it.
The streets are my home now, remember me sister, we shared the same womb, you turn away from my simple wave of hello, don’t have any any value anymore?
I’m tired, I will lay down on the park bench, at least I have my dog to cover me up, the keep me warm .
I love you my twin sister, Gid bless your heart..
There I leaned against the iron railings
of the high ridge overlooking the bustling port,
where a large ship hooted its loud warning,
It was waiting to depart to far-off lands.
My love was surely one of the passengers,
waiting to depart forever. A small breeze
blew around me but provided no solace.
She will be gone forever, my heart ached.
A hot tear fell along my unshaven face.
"Hi there," she exclaimed. I was excited.
She was there beside me. "I could not leave you."
"Crying?" “No,” I said. “Just dust from the breeze.”
At night soil dreams in silent technicolour, peaceful and alone.
It exhales gently without the trampling of mankind snapping
roots; without the world above and its usual stampede.
Branches notice it first, having time to stretch,
to watch stars appear; time to open bark and bow wide,
sprawling and luscious. Away from daily smokes and steams,
the sky is a black mosaic of golden shards.
Rivers lap, sigh upstream. Birds fly in a chorus,
circling in trills below the moon’s pupil-white skin.
Fields are resting their patchwork bodies, the tissue of
grass sewn from the earthly vapours of oak, birch, ash.
Nature’s legs grow stubbly at night, wild and unshaven.
In the morning a rabbit stands on its haunches, saluting the sun.
An unshaven programmer tech
Drooled java on a Starbucks deck
His net earnings grew
As fooled patrons threw
Dinero to pay for his check
YouTube has a plethora of spiritual videos
Pseudo gurus haven
Most of them are out to make a fast buck
Aided by grave faces unshaven
Let’s take the Tantra energy path for example
With a view to energising chakras seven
Esoteric forced practices are proffered
These gurus promising to take us to heaven
Be wary folks and use no intermediary
For God dwells in the cave of each soul’s heart
If we be pure, childlike and gentle
Assuredly one day we will feel bliss ignition start
Kundalini, Chi or Holy Spirit as divine energy is called
It is not something external to our innate being
Path to ascent is simple but ego cravings complicate
Clear seeing simply requires with throb of love agreeing
An emptiness felt
Clothes tattered and torn
Toes peeking out of socks
Shoes without souls
Walking blind to others
Invisible to them all
Warm days I am blessed
Cold nights I fear death
Hopeless is reality
Kindness is not seen
They fear my dirt
An unshaven face
If only they could see
Without seeing me
born the same
Traveling different paths
One filled with gold
The other a dead road
Walking alone
Down this lonely road
I only ask for shelter
But drink numbs
My Soul
No longer I care
drunkenness
Eases my pain
For all you see
Is my weakness
For you are blind
From what I see
Look through my eyes
With wonder
Could you be me
For just one day
Suddenly awake,
Snatched back,
From a space of wild dreams,
Open fields,
Open skies
A place he was free to run.
He reached out his arms,
And held the darkness,
The sound of drips
Turned into splash.
Water formed into Pools
Of sacred water at his feet,
He reached down,
and slowly washed his unshaven face
and bathed his blistered feet.
At peace now,
The darkness began to fade,
And with his arms outstretched like angels wings,
And his head lifted high;
He flew up into the moonlit clouds above,
At one now,
With the pure white light
Of a full summers
moon,
John Robert
Perhaps I was half asleep.
I always felt drowsy at night.
I sensed her warm body snuggling near me.
She put her head on my shoulders.
Her cuddles sent me to seventh heaven.
I only hoped she did not mind
The stubble on my unshaven face.
Still I was elated when as I felt
Her smooth downy face next to mine.
How fragrant was her exquisite hair,
I guessed it resembled a Soleil Neige,
An elegant and mesmerising perfume.
I took a deep breath, indulging
In its fruity nectar…so I opened my eyes.
Only to see an empty bed and a lumpy pillow.
Need to get back to my feet, find my way home
put down this heavy rifle, seek grace..
a familiar voice, a kind face,
hope for forgiveness,
these hands and lives they've undone.
Home, your birth mother's own,
where hearts unite and love ignites
among tall grass and damsel flies,
and panaramic hill just beyond.
Ternopil Pond fashioned by man's will
taken from marsh quicksand and Seret's flow
lies undefiled and still..
yet so many wounds to heal,
along Far beach and Lover's Isle of gold.
Shoulders slumped against the stair.
Scratched and worn, leathery unshaven maw.
Wisp of groan, in tired eye's misty glare,
while boots fill along with torn glove..
wanting only once more,
to be held in love.
Will loving eyes recognize the man she married..
and walk together again, that sandy beach?
her slender fingers just out of reach.,
tho' soldiered voice of pride no longer carries.
A wish remained, where no war dared go,
where hearts unite and love ignites
among tall grass and damsel flies..
and panaramic hill just beyond.
I can’t do this today
Peering through dirty windows at citizens disappearing
Behind shells made of unconvincing paper
Masking unspoken fears, unshaven faces
Unrealized hope
As I sip on day old coffee
Listening to church bells ring meaningless summons
And politicians competing to weave the biggest lies
As the forgotten ones stand in lines separated by social space
To acquire food with borrowed money on borrowed time
From vendors looted the night before
Under the glow of torched cars, flaming buildings, and burnt down lives that don’t matter
Streets filled with hate for brothers and sisters
Whose skin is darker, whiter, different
I can’t do this again
Sitting hour after hour
Watching, waiting
Alone
Behind broken memories
Wondering where you are
Everywhere I look
You are not there
I can’t do this
alone
Aloof
Dressed in shoddy attire as I slow gait,
With unkempt hair and an unshaven face,
Are traits that express my depressed state.
Before my downfall, they did me berate;
And my self-confidence reduced to waste.
So now I dress shoddily and slow gait.
Since I don’t bathe, the odours permeate,
Warning others to hasten their escape,
Is a trait expressing my depressed state.
City dumpsters filled with waste serve my taste
Are on the streets where I beg for spare change,
Dressed in shoddy attire as I slow gait.
“Tragic,” they exclaim, “a living disgrace!”
I remain aloof since I quit the race
And don’t elaborate on my depressed state.
“I’m not lazy,” I explain, “I’m debased,”
And rebuff the world by accepting my fate.
Dressed in shoddy attire while I slow gait
Are traits that express my depressed state.
He grieved.
For his child.
Outside storms raged,
water levels rose.
That's where he died.
That's where the child died.
Drowned by the swirling waters
that carried his child away.
The child he loved so much.
Tears ran down his unshaven face,
As utter despair crushed his soul.
His cherished babe had passed away.
Only pain remained ....
........and anger.
A fearsome anger erupted
into an obsession with death.
Thus he lost his faith in everything.
Yet out of habit he prayed.
Until one day he found
an abandoned child.
And once again, involuntarily
Tears ran down his unshaven face.
He nurtured her as if she were his own.
Days passed, then weeks,
And slowly love and faith returned.
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