Day: December 19, 2018

What´s the Play?

There are no hours and minutes in a day
Whatever Nokia Lumias  might display
Babylonian  clocktowers hover;
Cracked a wall , now stands in Dover,
There are     sixty cuckoos to gainsay.

Day and night, or hey, what black and white
People range in hues of  fruits delight
I like  olive  and    Greenpeacers
Wearing  hats  from crowns off steeples
Day and night,oh  shall we take a  flight?

I see the Berlin Wall is coming back
Mexico   has  ordered   ten sick    plaques
Trump has  promised work forever:
Building walls  from Hell to Dover
Even God has  been electro-shocked

No ,these demons cannot get across
They’re stuck in an inferno; what is worse……….
God  now  can’t  be  omnipresent.
He has  high  walls   around Grace Crescent.
Holy Moses,who  can take this flak?

If you miss yer dinner,don’t it hurt?
Same as if yer finger gets a cut
Refugees with their  feet   bleeding–
Christ,we’re underwhelmed in feelings
Get a barbed wire fence, and kick them back.

The Lord’s THEIR shepherd, so we’re gonna pay.
He  watches  US  like  NEVER  from today
We’re   the British  criminalsky
We have self-esteem so paltry
Hey, the Devil’s comin’ out as grey.

Oh,someone jumped the Central Line today
Could not take this life so  full  of play
Oxford Street was blocked by walls
Of vehicles  sent to the Call.
What is my vocation,what my Play?

Our feelings play

Porous bricks are air more than theyŕe clay
They  bake in sunshine,  soak in  British  rain
Inside the ir spaces human feelings stay

Anger, comfort,  love here find their place
And where thereś hatred they  may fill with pain
Porous bricks are air more than theyŕe clay

Children´ś laughter, grey fogs of disgrace
Dogs’ mad  barks with cats mioaws ingrained
Inside these spaces,music  noises stay

The  Shopping Complex   lacks an atmosphere.
Concrete does not soak up human pain
Porous stones are air more than theyŕe clay

From metal doors and windows bare and  clear
Emotions,  voices,kisses  flush to  drains
Inside such metal  beauty   cannot stay

Love  climbs  up  the roses  bleeds on   thorns
From red brick, old stone,    grace   is  new born
Porous bricks are  prayer more than theyŕe  clay
Inside the brick and stone old feelings  play

 

Consolation visits, cannot stay

Posted on October 25, 2018

The agent is the one who makes the choice
Who  are we  and how do we decide?
If we’re passive, we  will lose our voice

Consolation comes in many ways
The love of other  people is a guide
The agent is the one who has the choice

Consolation visits, cannot stay
Will not come if we are stiff with pride
If to power we’re passive, we  must  pray

A wife was once a slave, though well embraced
Her unique self and agency denied
The agent is the one who makes the choice

Now the unemployed dwell in disgrace
The monsters in the government deride
If by power  disabled ,find a voice

Christian armies  thought God on their side;
As if he cared what  they meant by their lies!
The agent  believes he’s in charge,has choice
We  feel   lost , where is the still,small voice?