The lacemaker

Dexterous hands tie the needles to the pillow

nimbly feeding the bobbins

with rows of cloud like cotton

The lacemaker jabs the pattern

with orange needles

Carefully ties the first node

singing, repeating verses

with the same subjected

node codes

She forgets her empty belly

the sadness of her poor bare feet

singing the beauty of the blue pillow

while draws in white

the figure of dreams

made out of cotton clouds

Subservient she obeys the orders of needles

removing them, releasing the pillow

from acrid tips

Distracted the lacemaker

ignores the wrinkled lines of yesterday on her face

or her owns calloused hands,

absorbed in transform the continuous line

in the story she tells in lace

Wake up Butterfly

The butterfly slowly wakes up from her long sleep confined in the dark cocoon. Thinking as a caterpilar she tries to move, unaware yet that what feels like a straitjacket tied to her are her own wings confined within the silk. The butterfly rebels, stretches, gradually breaking the cradle of her transformation. She emerges from the chrysalis wet, limp wings, twisted antennas. She gazes confused, still getting used to light, the little feet before only short stumps, now long lean gazelle like legs. Yawning she stretches the long probocis, frightened by her new device, and in delight smells the nectar. She had to bare eating the bitter leaves in order to smell this honey. The butterfly had to transcend the photosynthesis, breaking the light in the rainbow scales of her wings. Shivering them, flipping the tubes which fill with vital fluids and stretching out the wrinkles she opens up splendid. The butterfly will never know the glory of her beauty, but at the first impulse she learns in delight that she can fly. Dazzled with the flowers, sipping their sweet honey, she does not realize she can be as fascinating as such. Butterflies do not look in the mirror.

Plight

Night sorceress

The moon peeking out from passing black clouds

The owl shrieks a grim peep

Wolves howl in response to the wind’s howls through the wires

Rusty hinges creak

boards of abandoned doors, broken locks cracks

Open pits in the greedy ground

muffled cries

Machiavellian eyes peer  from the blooming cornfield  

hissing snakes creeping out of the shadows

It needs to be very quiet,

not to wake the creatures

diving bats fly close to the neck

avid for the draculan treasure

the being twists in agony

anticipating the nooses hanging from the branches

frightened, the feet breaks a little branch

with a booming sound that suddenly makes the night silent

The wind blows out the flame of the lamp

shhhhhh

in the cold night hot jet runs down the legs

There in the distance the evil bathroom seems to have it’s sarcastic mouth open

"Ah ha ha ha ha!

One more, "it seems to say.

ALIVE

Daises sprinkled on a carpet of bright green grass

Raised upon the ground

Extending the tender petals to a turquoise sky

A hopping bird nearby feast on wondrous worms

Munching with joy the meat from earth’s womb

Maze made of sinestesies, light, smells sounds

A touch of divine on the creature’s face, a

Daring taste of famine revolving the guts as he

Eats, continuously

Oyster full of unlimited possibilities, rainbows

Fading at the drying dew

Has this day really dawn? Why is there a frown?

As lilies and roses exhales their elixir

Zombie bees dance drunken scrollwork

Enchanted

Delighted

Minding only to feed from the mother

Immanently waiting for the offspring

Raving she waits for the connection

Racing to produce the precious sap

Orderly placed everything is on time

Run!The food will be you

9-11

8:46

-11

666

1-1

-5

-

911

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