Patterns

She crosses her legs
To the right away
But leans in
And ties up her hair

She speaks spanish
But looks like she speaks Polish.

One would be generous
To call her ordinary.

But her place in the dregs
Makes her alluring in
The way an old pub is.

And suddenly she has anger
She owns it. He teeters as her
Force grows. Is he wrong?
Or is that the feeling of
Intimidation?

He tires and wishes she
Was madly in love with him.
Casting away the mist of words
That reject any thought of
Commitment.

The gift of thought is
Wasted on men.

The difference

The difference between a man and a warrior is a warrior takes everything as a challenge and a man takes everything as a blessing or a curse. - Anon

He writes

He writes like
He once did
On another 13th
And remembers
The same tone
Of witholding
His soul.

Tie

How can the boy dissappoint
And say that to be bound
Repulses - not for freedom
Or wanton escapades but
Rather for the right to dream
Of sultry evenings and
Childish nights.

The 4 Vows

Though sentient beings are inumerable - we vough to save them

Though our evil desires are limitless
We vow to rid ourselves of them

Though the teaching is limitless
We vow to learn it all

Though it is unattainable
We vow to attain it.

Train Men

The old men have
Train wives
To supplement theirs.

Women that have defects
Like acne or thinning hair.
They wouldn't take
At home,

But make great fodder
Here for banter and smiles.

Train station

The sleeping dead
Arisen from the catacombs
In a thud thud down
The stairs.

Glistening heads
And monkey suits
Sip, lift, read, frown
Chatter stare.

Fat girls with bread and
Old men with train wives
Smile, nod, croon,
Flatter, but don't dare.

Alms

In
Three words
A promise.

Whispered.

His eyes mist
Autumn rich.

A fillet of hope.

Three beats...

Could
have
been.