These poems are for Kush



spite, disguised hatred or envy
acerbic sarcasm
just a bad mood
an off the cuff remark

sorry I did not mean to hurt or offend
Let us laugh and pretend
you are the best of my friend
The End


There is a buzz in my ears, I know I am drunk again
I have fallen back to the oldest panacea for a man’s pain
My beer is cold and my snacks are spicy
My attention is short but this TV game is dicy

Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth
Clap along if you feel like happiness will never belong to you
I know I am a bad boy, and I know I am very good when I am truly bad
This is just the melancholic side of me when I am really sad

I am a mediocre poet and poetry wont pay
I am a good engineer and damn it pays enough for me to afford the beer
This comfort this pampered existence and I wonder
How many poems were lost because I did not torture myself enough

I would never have the courage to blow the whistles
I would never be the one to stand up for the truth
I may never be Hammering Hank Aaron
I will never be the one to point to the stands like Babe Ruth

Still there is a buzz in my ears
And I hope it stays
But we know it wont
As the day and our existence fades away



Loving from a distance

There are days I want to kill myself
Out of boredom and sheer laziness
Until I have to remind itself
I know I have failed it before

I still have my sentence to suffer
My mind wanders but my feet are rubber
This mood shall pass We will laugh some more
Some other time when we stop keeping score

I have to wait I have to bide my time
And pass these moments in writing inane rhymes
It was a good thing to be your father Some day I will say
Until that I hopefully pray

Some day you will grow up
Some day I will grow less
These nights are but the harbingers of them all
Big dreams of daddies of boys small

what color is white

what color is white
is it all the colors as newton would say
is it none of the colors as my mamma would say

is it the color of purity
is it the color of indifference
is it the color of Caucasians

what color is white
the color of angels
the color of death

the color of the empty page
the color of the noise
the color of love

what color is white
what flavor is love
what smells like friendship

The kids who died

the conspiracy of silence
are we part of the solution
are we part of the problem
are we part of the silent indifferent majority

neither condemning and neither condoning
evil and foul clouding the air
rushing to our homes
switching on our tele

waiting for the kick
of the legally sanctioned opium
to enter our brain cells
and somedays

when it is really quiet
a cold shudder passes through your shoulder
we could have been wolves
but we chose to be candy sucking sheep

so we could enjoy the playground
and swings with our children
not knowing how many children
died waiting for you to make the call

The days of

these are the days of poverty
these are the days of living by chance
these are the days when we sit and ponder
when we are not getting ready for the dance

these are the days before our destined greatness
these are the days before we were swallowed by wealth
these are the days when our lousy bank balance
is balanced only by our shiny health

these are the days of smelling roses
when we ourselves don’t smell so well
these are the days of having time to laze about
and complain how we need air conditioning in hell

these are the days of our youth
these are the nights we live and laugh
time shall fly by quickly enough
but right now we have our life ahead by half



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