A Brighter Blue

In the music of the poets,

My hands spring to rhythm 

And my voice spreads wings touching the lows and high

Like the fleet of arrows, the birds fly

In a niche, in the melancholy of yellow 

The green waves pulled by the lunatic wind

Seething with foamy clouds that surround by

In a clear bluish? No, it's a greyish sky. 

The ash that has blotted the blue wall above

I wonder where it comes from? 

In the golden fields scattered with drops of dew, it's frozen touch

Ruffles you

And you collect the mental mess

The heart just jumps without a clue

Is this a phenomena just happening new? 

And has it opened his arms and gulped me in?

Is this an interruption or to go on within? 

This erratic mess and enormous thumping

Is it to live by? 

They ask how are you? Must be fine. 

They don't care if it's a railroad or a hurricane's stride

Life is a compromise they say

Every inconvenience isn't a problem to lay. 

Inconvenience isn't making me cry

Neither is it convenience's conversations

Little successes don't fill me with joy, neither does a big pay cheque. 

Nor does the travel around the country or a night in my lover's arm

The sparkle of the pearly moon looms like fatigue in a run

Watching nothing is fun, neither is going to. 

I pretend having diagnosed miraculous

I pretend and drink too much

I eat too much and dance too much

And sing and harp like the wasp

My world, my people shake the worry

Having found my poems now rhyme

But inside the heart every muscle flaps like a trapped butterfly

And my head it cant take this again

Having experimented with this jabbing painless pain 

I chat with an old old friend, I don't know what he does. 

He listens and holds my hand

Doesn't ask me to shut up 

Or keep a diary and pen

He simply picks the white napkin and starts scribbling

As I eat my cold sandwich

A number, I believe it's private. 

Hitting on me? I asked, 

He asked me to call just once

I do it in front of him

He picks up his cell and says

Hello, How may I help you 

I don't know, make me a date, 

Not a date say appointment instead

Fine, where in this cafe? My friend. 

The psychiatrist's chambers, sharp ten

I look at him and he asks me to look at the up and high

The grey has faded and there is a brighter blue sky.