Recursion

The girl staring through the window glass
All the pretty clothes that can’t be bought
The boy staring at this girl
Wondering why they seem both alone apart in the world
—
The old man staring at the boy
Remember his youth and the so long ago joy
The waiter staring at this very old man
Wondering how long he takes to understand
—
The lady staring at the waiter tall
And wishing he was somewhere else for the fall
The girl staring at the woman’s clothes
And countless stories that will never be told

 

One more clichéd poem written in a cafe

I am sitting in a cafe and I think I am all done
I have nothing to show for and to show I have no one
Scratching my ear and Staring at people’s toes
Imaginary sorrows and Melancholy woes
—
To think I was born too clever but only I was born less sad
So I could perceive less all around me the games people play good and bad
I wonder if I am Van Gough and is this the day to cut my ear
Surrounded by slaves to monthly wages and bonuses at the end of the year
—
But there is a wind in the air,
Though my head has no hair
There is hole in my soul
Bereft of anything, do I care
—
For there is a buzz all around
And everything sounds so profound
While I am amused by the sound
And one more clichéd poem written in a cafe unwound

Pun Poetry

Here I am walking in the sun
Now a cold cafe I sit in, besides me there is none
No one to hold my hand
No one to pretend they understand
—
And yet, it is so much fun
Solitude because all alone under the sun
I love my life, and the fact that I owe no one
While in my hot head float silly puns
—
For I now check the internet too
My friends are as happy as me and you
Now a strange drum beat is ringing in my head
Driving me on this road till the end
—
This day that has well begun
This day to meet feel greet finally someone
The eyes are burnt and hollow but boy these hands have had fun
And now, I find myself out of words that I barely began to spun

Romance is a dead dog

Romance is dead replaced by porn and credit cards
Replaced by shopping malls and the latest sale on shoes
—
Replaced by a big car and air conditioning
while outside on the hot porch a big dog says beware
—
The dog waits for a bitch to come his way
This is the only time that dogs can mate
—
So it can reduce its tedium and drudgery
Of being a guard dog wasted into guarding nothing worth being a dog for
—

I am right, right?

what we think for what we fight
we pretend we are right
so right and so wrong we classify
so hard so hard we duly try

in the end time will tell
ring our church tower with bell
we didn’t matter but of course we tried
we came close but in the end we sighed

the monotonous the banality of ordinary life
hey it can be so boring I am special right
God is dead so Plato is a bore
Rich men eat because no is keeping score

poor men starve and young men die
for power and glory and yet another lie
poets drink and then they tell
try to ring the church tower bell

—
dedicated to