Random Poems

Cuba's Finest

Sugar canes grown so high in the sky,

such a fine, sweet taste,

divine on the tongue,

like little pills of paradise,

melting into one.

One spoon in my tea,

two sugars in your coffee.

We seem to forget

that these tiny drops of pleasure

also come from the salty sweat of Cuban sons.

I forget,

you forget,

we forget,

as we stir and laugh in a state of blissful ignorance.

A single woman in Amsterdam

Feathers in full bloom,

a hefty and inconsequential plume.

Her rosy blushes, demure but sinful.

This girl knows the tricks of the trade

as her arse cheeks swing from side to side.

Her slender legs extend in a friendly touch.

Large eyes gazing and grazing,

lashes lowered,

making hearts flutter between the legs.

Her figure in motion

has men hypnotised in their own fantasy

at ￡50 a pop.

But no one sees,

behind the glitter and the glamour,

the unmasked woman,

sad with self-harm,

worn by the world,

exhausted by men's desire.

Mother tears mingled with blood milk.

In sadness, the soul gently weeps,

Her heart swollen and reddening in pain,

threatening to burst under the pressure,

breaking at the seams.

No exit, no escape.

West End Show

On a rainy day in Piccadilly Circus,

riding in a shiny black taxi,

I watch the passersby,

so many tourists, merging into one.

I get out at Shaftesbury,

pay the man ￡30.

He barely notices,

as he drives away with haste,

back into the noisy traffic,

disappearing into the black smoke of the London fog.

I stand on the pavement.

The crowds streaming into my consciousness.

I blink.

The bright lights like halos setting the landscape alight.

West End, where life is a performance full of fun.

Tokyo

Standing in a kaleidoscope landscape of light.

Traffic noise and people bustling in waves.

Dressed in Westwood, Chanel to Vintage and Vogue.

These pretty starlets are walking through the seasons.

Time passes quickly between the streetlights and neon signs.

A waft of smoke billows upwards as the mind suspends time,

if only temporarily,

to stop and reflect on those glimpses of inward life unawares.

The Flower Girl

There amongst the broken petals was the flower girl,

still youthful and soft, like the first touches of Spring.

Her arms open slowly, fingers caressing the wind.

Familiar sweet music plays faintly as life slowly unfolds.

Birds' wings soar upwards with the energy of breath.

Water rippling merrily against shiny grey speckled pebbles.

The sea breeze hugs all things near.

Let love flow with the spirits of life.