Foreign

They don't speak to me,
They keep to themselves.
This language of theirs,
It completely rings no bells.

Multitudinous hordes of them!
In their variegated variety,
All hues and colours and shapes and sizes,
That fulfill my friends' fantasies.

But to me they remain
Aloof and distant on their racks,
These shoes that dress those necklaces--
They all look the same! now can we please go back?

(to my friends who were with me: no, it wasn't that bad, heh, don't worry. still appreciate, very much, the effort to try to make me over. ;)

catch

To catch water from a falling glass that has
tipped over the table top from a
careless little tug (one of many, it’s been edging) at the tablecloth
and watch as it somersaults in the air
giving up its contents in a hapless fashion

watching as the hand reaches to grab it
but it falls, it falls, it slips and it falls

and all that’s left is a wetness on the hand
(the drops clinging on but dripping still)
and the broken shards of glass

Don’t cry over spilt milk
much less water.

Wretched, Wretched

Falling by the wayside
As the river runs dry.
That the bed
Stripped Naked and Bare
With its hidden devils of pollution
Is exposed for all to see.

but
May the waters flood once again
That life be breathed back into its banks
And when that be
May it not forget
The source of its spring.

Instant Gratification

(in response to an impulse buy. and dedicated to jayne.)

the cacophony of colours
the psychedelic sounds
the mishmash of ordered chaos
the bombardment of the senses

the cup that runneth over
of wants and whims and fancies
that meanders through (brief) indecision
and passes the bridge of impulse

and like drinking an elixir of life
from this unending river
it quenches the thirst and yearning
fulfills the momentary urge

but the hunger remains unsatiated
gnawing and growing
eating away at the numbers
that struggle to stay on balance

i went shopping.