DREAMS 1

I was up on the roof / collecting pennies from my past / the phone ringing / as I went to see my agent / nice lady that she was / said the woman that was her client / was desperate for me / to “house sit” the nicest house on the street / but while the door was open / the wind stole my feet / it took me towards the meeting of the rivers / walking back from the viewing / the crews were tearing up the streets / the native kid slowed down on his bicycle / smiling and talking friendly / he was wearing a black bandanna / tight on his head / told me he was from the best gang on the block / it was only then that I realized / that I was glad I was in the poor side of town / then in the confluence of habits / an invitation was sent / I was urgently requested to attend / the next competition / where all the games are rigged / and all engines are stalled / but it was deemed that I was not successful enough / to keep vices . Azab

PLACES

there are places / places where there is no life / only wanderers / and the pleasure of sacrifice / where peasants skirts dust refugee trails / and the troubadours speak bluntly / walking on the fingertips of applause / places where beauty dances and sparkles / in the raindrops splash , suspended over a still lake / where small peeks at heaven / are served with generous portions of hell / where the sun fades like an old cliche / and moans like a broken promise / Places are the times I have seen / the immaculate timing wished for / to be dreaming the same dreams / and I wonder where you will be ? / or where I’ll be ? / in the expanse of memory / will I see you / within the sight of perfectly powdered recollections / as a queens whisper in a paupers breath / or as tears , drying in the settling dust / in the places that have never been searched before / embraced in a lovers wet crush / where devils and angels drown /
and when this final season slams the door / in the stillnes , feel my caress / as it whispers in the breeze by your ear. Azab

IN STRIDE

I walk into the old mans shaggy demeanour / in the stride that covers truths lies / I trace my prayers into the consuming sands / offerings to all the lumbering Gods / as I give my stifled thoughts away / to all good frightened prisoners of cicumstance / for those afraid of their turn to be real / for those that have outlived their time / I tread softly when I reach the hard ground / keeping track of moulding memories / for those that throw it all out there / just to see how far the pieces go . Azab