Sonnet #5 (‘We’, part 2)
We are not done; there’s more to be said,
About Mortality’s gruesome and cold bed.
Our adjectives disclose a closed perspective,
They cannot grasp the totality’s incentive.
Love and God are either empty, or not,
The former is lost, the latter has hit the spot.
Emptiness and fullness places trust on the eye,
Without the viewpoint they cannot come nigh.
These two words, our salvations, leave us with a choice,
“Make us, or unmake us”, speaks their calm voice.
Love that uncanny feeling we fervently chase;
Until we surrender her, we are eluded from her face.
God, that logical impossibility, that ambiguous glitch,
How we yearn him for meaning; we would easily embrace the ditch.
Sonnet #4 (‘We’, part 1)
Drifters; humble, arrogant and sentient drifters,
We “row, row, row our boats gently down the stream”.
We step, step, step our feet in this coward’s dream.
Workers; soulless, conditioned and emotive workers.
Mortality, that coquettish wench, breathes us past GO,
The 200 we were promised is nowhere to be seen,
Card after card, mortgage after mortgage leaves us keen.
We drain our eyes of all life, and to pain we proclaim, NO!
But lo and behold! salvation awaits with a glimmer.
Empty words and imagined faces we conjure from deep,
The sweet burden of our illusions we motherly keep.
The very act makes the lights of pain dimmer and dimmer.
Love and God: the emptiest of all words we employ,
As salvation from misery becomes this arduous decoy.
Sonnet #3
His torments, dreads, and showers of envy do ramage,
The mere sight of his fellow darkens his eye,
Why does this green gem in his heart shine with damage?
Cain, oh, Cain: Abel is the loved, the beloved butterfly.
Your own Father does shun you, Fortune does smirk at you,
She embraces Abel, she loves him, she employs his destined road.
Turns a flirt in your presence; for you, she spares no second or two.
You wallow in your emerald swamp of misery, to God, you are but a toad.
Cain, oh, Cain; Abel is the one, the loved, cherished, God’s real son,
But can you really despise him for being himself; can you kill?
Can you eat that orphan’s bread, that tramp’s only bun?
Can you torture the lepper, poke fun at the terminally ill?
Interwoven are your lives, fatefully so; you are the Moon and he is Sun,
You cannot shine without him, night is nothing without you; you are brothers still…
Sonnet #2
Quel est l’amour?
She knocks, and he opens the door.
She enters, tip toed or treading,
The former he welcomes, the latter he’s dreading.
What is love, people?
Her glimpse’s worthy enough to turn him simple.
They touch, kiss, and ”’bout time” together they sing,
With emotional scruples, joy they bring.
¿Qué es amor?
She offers herself, he leads her to the fore.
Trampled and romped by their selfless desire;
They burn their selfs and together jump into the fire.
The world applauds as it witnesses this miraculous relation;
Eros, sitting humbly, smiles proudly at his mischevious creation.
Sonnet #1
Bite at the rhythm of trifled distress
Chew humbly and honestly in its stress,
Hold your arms wide and embrace the mess,
Allow it to burn and soothe your ruined chest.
The songs of sorrow equal those of joy,
One ear pays homage, the other plays coy.
Words and thoughts know very well the feelings they deploy,
These sweet tears and tiresome smiles are their cold jest.
An exchange of ‘ands’ and ‘ifs’ becomes the repetition,
Next is the taste of our very own hate’s sedition.
Breathe in soothingly the ‘joie de vivre’ of thoughtful distinction,
And like a bird, build your life, your wife and your nest.
In anticipation await the full-stop that is death,
So that the nowhere-to-run, becomes the running-towards with the last breath.
