I heard There are things Out in the woollen nights Mosaics of happenstances And matchstick quick delights A life of unbuttoned jeans and restless jazz And lipstick stained tissue papers Left on countertops Under empty whiskey glasses and beer mugs filled with vapour Proof of a life at once loud and empty Like a vacant microphone Filled with dreams of hunger Like a dog with a buried bone O how the mind meanders In the test tube alleyways A ghetto full of false fire Spreading shadow for many days
I heard There are people Who count the twelve strokes of midnight Yawn at the break of dawn And search for moon in the twilight And gather molten menagerie In the effervescence of aftershave Wherein the limbs are nests of Nirvana And love a motion to enslave Till the flame of faces; it withers, And only wax is left to blame Those shivering shadows differ Like every lover with a new name
I heard There are places Where mortal wounds entwine And life is bet on races Which has no finish line Here the dyslexic dystopia Begins beneath one’s roof And the mythical myopia Does not end without a proof Dying under disco lights I lay colour blind to the pain Needles upon my tongue And yet I am singing in the rain
The Night smiled and the world froze into a mirror: An eye without eyelids A face without feature But timeless in its taste Like truth without teacher, With flowers on her forehead And sweat upon her thigh The sea painted on her toenail And the sun a firefly Dancing just dancing On her gold lips as lullaby
And oft she would curl up to sleep Unwanting to know the names Of those who suckled her milk Only to sell it for pixie dust And white rum to last a lifetime of Blood on her hands Flames in her hair Dreams stitched in her dresses Leaving her perpetually bare
Pendulum minds Prone to tongue tennis and cold showers Stare out the window At the hips of dark roads Fading under street lamps Like sunset on a shore Shriveled drops of moonlight on their face And she watching the cold blue sky And those blind stars; invisible, Laughing in the background Like extras from silent films Happy to beheld The recurring eternity Of everyday life…
