26th Montage

This sky

Is made of marijuana maze,

Dreaming the flight

Of a dour faced boy-

Hunched over a nude 

In an old Playboy.

This mall

Smells of money, small mark ups-

A steel trolley floats on

The floor, pulling a Czech girl, 

Belying the drag of a

Cheap daily skirt.

This god

Is made of none, smells of none.

None in the name, none described-

The thought of none, the dream of none

Son of, daughter of, none!

Created this day, boy and girl.

This day

Is full of drama and doors-

Open and shut-

As if a human heart, a rose bud-

Unwinding spool-

If only, one could see.

Death by a Tram

The girl did not hear it, the lonely girl,

Wrapped in the winter in a Kashmiri shawl.

Biddy nostrils in white fog smelled a musk

Of a strange, burly man who softly asked,

Come to the woods, girl, there we laugh

Soaked in the moon, to the sounds of harp

Dizzy we dance to the frisks of life.

A bolo dance, under the spell of a knife.

Splaying your boa skirt, swaying you in sleep

Over the stones, atop a stone of the deep

Piercing your hollow in a gurge of blood.

Merry men stray where in merry men's flood

Floating in a smell of the crude things done.

The scent of an icky glue in the beret sun

Came to her nostrils and stirred her up,

Deaf to a cranky Borg in cold stirrups.

It screamed, “Bloody hell!” Screeched for a halt.

A witness told the TV, “It's the girl's fault.”

Hit by a tram, torn, quietly she bled.

Lying in a morgue, silly, dreamless and dead.

Pirate Bay

Why weary now, friend, the white bell
Rings. If we breathe in hush, the stale
Corpse won't let out the scream, the
Dreams won't feel like birds, sea shells-

The old, foamy sea when muffled the cry
Of help. And hid in a petty man's sty,
When the storm raged, breaking the sills
Of the bay, making the brave ships fly.

Home is a harbour, in a coherent play
Of love; torn, silly ships, in which stay
Till the storm dies, skull-crossbones
Adorns the navy blue sky. A pirate bay.