Some days are worse than Mondays. Especially if you think the world is out to get you...
photo by pedrojperez at morguefile.com
some days the sun is a magnesium flare
the people in the streets wipe sweat
off their noses, seeking shadows
to hide in, this town, and you
expect the walls and roads
to crumble and collapse.
you duck into a cafe
hoping there's cash
left in the pockets
for a set lunch.
you are surprised
the air-con is cold
the tiles clean, spotless
the clientele polite, making
just small noises, forks poking
at plates, you take the day's papers
the headlines, the black ink staring back
Paris Peace Talks Stalled
North Vietnamese negotiators walk out.
who cares about U.S. air raids when you just
want to look for the jobs vacant pages?
and then the girl brings you your food
she is plump, her hair tied in a bun
her thighs in a short short skirt
ravishingly creamy, fiery sexy
and you really thought of
making hot love to her
and outside the sun
just screams and
"and all i could do was
sweat out the summer,
dripping with rage
while the days ran hot
and the rain trees bled
dead brown leaves,"
-- dsnake1, peace
Shared on Poetry Pantry #327 at Poets United.
© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2016
Labels: 70's, anger, anti-war, ennui, environment, rant, Singapore