OK.

I never had a father who bothered about me.
We whisper words of wisdom; and shelter where we speak.
I never had a family that wanted me,
Never had a shoe to wear, or anyone to care;
I found my way through the uncertainty,
And laid my head on the floor.
Whispering words of wisdom,
I can barely speak anymore.
All the meanness of the dark,
And the shadows of the dawn,
My head I still hold it high,
When life is overdrawn.
The birds speak gently to the sky;
There is no one who hears.
We force ourselves to live our lives,
Without knowing why or where.
The planet is a memory, of spinning voices
And doubt,
We try to speak the words are bleak,
And I can’t scream or shout.
All the roads we walk upon,
And all the greed,
Are turned out in a whirlabout,
And we don’t say what we need.
I lay my head upon your shoulder,
And we walk on the grass.
I don’t think what we speak,
And the crowds are rolling fast.
I never had a father and he never had one, too,
The sky is molted; the volcanoes erupted;
In a field of blue.
He never said what he didn’t say,
And then he went away-
I look outside and stars collide,
And we are all OK.

Change of the Season.

I mark the change of the
seasons by punching a hole in the wall, by
bringing fresh tomatoes from the garden.
I mark the change of the seasons,
As every day comes as the one before,
As the darkness that wans, the sliver of moon that bends.
The winter months fall because of bitter realizations,
I am forgotten, like a ghost, forgotten for the time
I spent doing good deeds.
I am not a soldier. I wish to be dead, to be stillborn,
To be underground with the others,
The ones who are silent when I walk,
The ones who never say anything bad about me.

Flowers in gardens. Big and little flowers,
Flowers of all kinds.
I trip over my feet as I went up the stairs,
You said you were trying to teach me a lesson,
I know you’re lying.
The bells ring in the distance.
I know what it’s like to be forgotten,
I hear the tolling of bells.
The wind moans, darkness comes,
Steadily, tramping up doors and banging on them.

I mark the change of seasons. Seasons pass, come and go,
Fill up the water hole with pits and shadows.
You scream for baked bread and peaches.
You yell at your pillow. The day has not grown old.
I hear bells ringing.