I watch kingdoms rise and kingdoms fall
I've seen you live a thousand lives
And witnessed every awkward kiss in two-door hatchbacks
I've seen every fist thrown in anger
And every expression of love through art
I've seen every tyrant rise to power
And every act of a strong people pull them down in chains
Then they rise to an ultimate greatness
And although the pattern always repeats
I rather enjoy the last one

Too simple to mess up.
A narrative:

Thigh aching, body quaking, heart shaking breezes.
Tears can rack your eyes, trembling bones, cold stones
against blue toes.
Summer depression, sunshine heartache, shiny hot hellfire and:
-mourn-...
"mew" The kitten whispers.
Shaking laughter; Who could be sad?
Why did the kitten speak to the dawn?
Again:
Who could be sad at the thought of it, when you're crying out to the world
for a sign of major sorts
and a kitten, meek and small
mewls at the dawn
as you cry?
-------------
To Larry. You're my sign...
-this has been in the works for a while and I've finally decided to post it as it is. Love ya, friend!

The whisper of mine shivers a siren at the hunt.
The childish demise allows me to narrow your pains.
The symbol of freedom, allows me to touch your soul.
The soul will softly be fathered for lust.

* * *
* *
*

Faces of friends, of people i met earlier
are  glittering stars on this late evening's
dark blue sky...their smiles are tattooed
in my mind...they're  hunched, going
lower by the days...slowed down by years.
it must be hard and painful...the arching,
the drooping of the neck, the curving spine,
they endure all, 'til each day's end...they rise
each new dawn...do what they still can do,
lest they stagnate in their aging ponds,
diminish to a state, where food, pills, or
forgotten information are forced on them,
......like drugs, injected into the veins

........................
these wee hours bring back the years...
they  have been good...never mind the
hard times...there were, there are good ones
life is a long, wide stream of changing hues,
flowing on and on....my water bears the
colors each new day brings...gray, at times
with sadness and gloom....other days,
blacked by despair...some summers, red,
roseate with glee, or green with life and
hope...blue, when trust is spilling, and
the tranquil sea and sky overwhelm,
with a promise of stability..........white,
when accepting......the unacceptable...
........................
the amber grains and i, are alike
ripened enough to be plucked
be pulled out from an existence...the
signs are known...shown...yet, i wait
for when it is due to happen...and while
waiting, the stalks sway, play and dance  
and enjoy the sun and wind...and i,
while i still can...walk, jump, climb hills
and valleys in this mammoth space
of land and water.............called life
...................
the sounds of my days, i still hear,
i am a lute, a harp, a cello...playing
off-key.....out of tune at times,
my strings are my graying hair,
i still can't stop dying the gray
i still want to highlight the dark,
but, one day, all these will cease...
............
one night, my face will be in one of those
many stars...glittering on a dark blue sky
sending a smile, to my loved ones.


...................
(there is no other way,
but forward
all are headed
towards an end.)


Sally



© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
      June 26, 2018

I would shift the mountains,
I would tame the sea,
Just so I am next to you,
And you are next to me.