Those returning mile | stones.

Fantasizing

traffic lights on Road sixty-six,

when the desert tells you to halt.

Looking around

into a three hundred and sixty degree rotation

wherein Table Mountain and Ayers Rock are

fusing into Rocky Mountains.

Translate Today.

Natural day six hundred and seventy.

Enough JSB!

I want your music not

your calculations.

What I’m saying…

Never since my childhood

I experienced this same emptiness

in the fullness of my existence.

I’m a liar

I have seen this before

less empty

less full.

We are falling

apart into parcels

at every milestone

we aspire to.

Time shouldn’t have adherents.

While the decay of our bodies continues timelessly

we clean the stones of a medieval cathedral.

The obsessive sound of a clock

takes me into a daze.

Why can’t I stay tired?

note: (JSB: Johann Sebastian Bach)

-

Cooled bed sheets

Turning

my body

naked

in ice cold bed sheets

while asking the hours for

time to postpone the warm up.

It brings my

skin to rest

my mind

highly flammable.

Surrounding silence

discontinued steadily by

the shivery metallic

sound of

a  tapping wall clock.

A general feeling of well being

invades me.

A torso implores to cool down.

Limbs,

some searching

the entrance

others

finding the way out.

All lethargy has left my thoughts.

My mind runs at full swing while

my skin seeks for eternal chill.

Dead must be like this

frozen sheets melted with supercooled derm,

unrecorded sounds, 

eternal muteness.

-

Dangler

Yesterday…
Got 
a dangler laughing monkey.
A wel known free dictionary 
told me that
one of the
dangling definitions
is
to hang loosely or swing.

- Intermission –
My monkey;
Is he laughing or
did he inherit a 
lip plate?
No, 
the great designer 
can’t have done it on
purpose (question mark)

Yesterday – continues - 
my monkey
laughing (exclamation mark) is
hanging loosely on
a door handle.

Today,
my monkey
laughing (question mark)
swinging to
its hearts content 
on the 
door handle till it
sways uncontrolled
landing on the sill.
My monkey dangler
lays pouting.

It’s definitely a
lip plate.
It has to be a 
lip plate
no doubt about that!

Uneasy Unrest

I’m walking into an unnamed garden,

empty as in not

yet awakened,

surrounding a undefined construction,

desolated as in not

yet occupied.

The soils of my

shoes produce a

crunching vibration on

the pebbly pathway.

I feel I’m disrupting the scene.

Walking on my toes will not help.

There is no beauty as in irresistible.

There is no anxiety as in tempting.

A lost leaf covered  

with dewdrops

felt from the tree.

From a rusty drainpipe

flows blood-colored ink.

An invisible hand wipes

the pearls from the sheet

and writes

clearly legible,

uneasy

unrest.

The branches of the tree

are wearing it

while the stones of the building

are sweating it all out 

Uneasy Unrest.

-

A fair question.

Have all the questions been asked?

Have all the answers been given?

Till here

It’s clear, at least in my opinion.

I am left with many questions,

not to mention,

the quantity of answers

I’m still waiting for.

All the questions have been asked!

Have all the answers been given?

Subsidiary question:

Do I get more answers now

or am I left with less questions?

All

the answers

have been given.

All

but one!

All

the questions

have been asked.

All

but one!

Who will teach me how to die?


Legitimate question!

We learn everything about life and living but nobody prepares us on how to die.

-