Discreet

The sky is rusty yellow,
shining down a city of stray cats
Lost in the mess of a crowded main street
Escaping the frenzy of marching feet
toward the final purpose of freedom
and the daisies blooming discreet
on the way

Voices of the underworld scream out and aloud
As with each shout, a lost kitty would leap frightened
and grey the lights were becoming, at last
The crowd won't look back, there's still more to be earned
for enlightened is the path of today's parade

Kitties in disgrace won't seem to care,
if they ever reach their victory
as long as tails are still safe and shaking
to the distant sunset the sky above, yet
Night becomes the welcomer of causes lost
and cats unfed.

Swimming Pool

Trying to make useful out of useless,
to make time out of time
But time doesn't have children, not enough fertility these days
Out of strength and out of grace
And the weaponry is not enough to win such fight
A cherry bomb in your head, wind curl from the west
Blowing out your mind

Is there any way to shut this down
Turn the battle around for you to stop being stubborn
There's nothing charming about planning your own funeral place
Choosing the grass over your grave
As if you'd die anytime soon
Building your paths to escape my arrival
The underwater roads leaking underneath my pool of treasures hidden
and we'd be still jumping in, if it weren't for your greeting
Like goldfish down the sink

One of a Kind

Will I still have the odds on my side
when trying to reach the brilliance of this language
just by crafting my thoughts as if they were unique
when my feeling is not nearly one of a kind?
Hiding your sources won't work forever
and you shouldn't cover your roots
if your tree still means to grow
Dispel this drama off of me
and leave it all to the clarity of what really is
Could it be the best move in order to
preserve the existence of the tree?

When all you want is your garden surrounded
not only by the natural guests, but the amazement of intruders allowed

and still, the more you try to show,
the more you find yourself shrouded
struggling to find a way out
This maze of ideas broken and mistaken
the silence outspoken
your self-confidence shaking
to the softest of sounds
but not so soft, you see
or you'd having nothing to worry about
The poetry in one's eyes is the poetry in one's mind
but what if it's reflected by one wearing glasses
or faking thoughts just for the glow they insist to show
intense enough to blind the distracted eye
Faking usual feelings for the shining glory of the unusual
when a feeling is clearly not one of a kind

Each Time

And each time, less people would invite him
Greet him, compliment him
He would slip into someone else's pocket to be forgotten
and rotten
and then thrown away with the laundry
Less interesting each time
More dramatic and the wine
Isn't tasty anymore
As he thinks of the old days
Nostalgia, as always, sore and bold
The story is different each time it's told
Depending on the person and the weather
If it isn't cold, warmer memories are sold
With smart words everytime
And each time, the melody gets more intricate
for beauty lies therein,
the complexity of an intense heart
Flaming as a rocket,
beating forgotten into someone else's pocket
Rotting for lack of company
Yet, for itself trying not to feel sorry
Each time

Misaligned

For the spectacular escape that was being planned
Senses had to be aligned in complete misalignment
The stage of things disagreeing, sound against vision
Moon against sun
So that light would become dawn,
and daylight would leave never to return
At least for tonight

And though it remains a surrender
Without a single trace of any fight
And if anyone might still return to their birth selves
Changes will have taken place already
At the speed of light, sound
and as fast as ears can hear
the silent explosion from senses blown apart

Mass destruction deconstruction
And emotion pouring out
through eyes, ears and mouth
Imploding away without a single trace
of any fight
But with plenty of fright to show
Until finally giving up
is too late to choose in a row
of options to run for
Drip by drip,
the moon melts from every mouth in the room
burning like fire when touching the floor
Setting fire to it all

It's blown, after all
For the spectacular escape that was being planned
The stage of things disagreeing, sound against vision
Moon against sun
Death against life
and life against fun.

Fridge Message

Wait for me, dressed and ready
Steady lying, insistently trying
Before I arrive, make sure
you're ready to go
Keep away from the bathroom
and don't become the gargoyle
spitting out frustrations and desires while sitting
on the windowsill
I may not know or understand the way you feel
but I love you still
and I don't want you to get me wrong

If I could build you a song
A symphony of mistakes
The paths not to be taken
in every single note
Even when I'm away,
keep safe and strong
so when I arrive
I just want you to be home

With love, so long

The Slightest

The slightest chance of things working out
was enough for her to jump from her bed
Enthusiastically getting up and having things done
Pillows set, and on the shelf books she never read
Just for the slightest chance of being fulfilled
Like the glass of milk from the morning after
but not as white or as cold
Something like the children playing outside,
but not seeking for what to hide
Just surfacing what is hidden instead.
Perfectly fitting, the glass of milk on the shelf
by the books never read out loud
Enough for her to jump from her bed,
and to happily agree things are right,
working out.