79: he was

He wasn't rich, he was wealthy
and the difference was clear as caste
He looks over the terrace,
over hundreds of millions of
ants - no, humans - they are and they were,
begging for time and its modernity.

78: Veritable

The misconception:
spilling paint over flowers in utter ambition
while they watch, the damned spectators,
voyeurs in their passion;
formatted to fit and designed to crave design.

77: Rally

Devoid of imprisonment and yet everyone yearned.
Contained and compressed emotional organs
and the invisible barrier that we chose.
They are singing sweetly,
chirping songs by the moon's end.
We're all ignorant in daylight
and the lovely, lovely cancer.
They've been had, and so have we.

76: Oh, Picasso

Faces with doves, I can feel the feathers
and the treasury jewels right under the wing.
Faux-fur realizes, she wants the real thing.
Here's to her endeavour - the cup of all bitterness
and in the meantime, let cuff links ring.
Wear poison on the venemous tongue,
sting others with those expensive words
like that hydraulic needle pin drop
for those that you've forgotten about.

75: Award Season

Let's hear those golden statuettes
award these gorgeous liars.
Dress them up and sell, sell, sell.Mine diamonds from their hearts.
Tears carefully applied - or not?
They recalled times when they were not there.
When life was tragedy without the Shakespeare.
It was simply reality. But not they walk blood-red carpets,
all the way down to the beaches
where skulls break on rocky cliffs
and crash, crash, crash,

goes the water.

74: O Holy Might

As if she was a saint --
she isn't.
She wasn't, and won't.
They stole her from daylight and us mortal ghosts.
But like joan of arc or dare we say - Jesus,
we'll praise her and praise her
based on famed reputation
you know: word-of-the-mouth
with those gaping lips.
she was wonderful, yes, and she will be missed.

And she's lucky to get off on such a head start
with accomplishments, maybe, and the fakest heart.
So let's patronize her, our city's tragic story.
Make our own sacred connections
in the heat of the dark.

73: I Saw

So he looked like he was staring at me,
glancing at my general direction. And I loved
that feeling secretly, personal and biased.
Uncertain but hopeful, imaginary.
Songs were floating out to our ears
but you were the source of it all
and feeling so close to those rails,
never having conceived it all before.

It was nice to pretend that I was the only one there,
I didn't even look behind.
Make me smile
and play those sounds
for a simple thanks
from me to you.

72: Balconies

We saw them up there
on those platforms isolated
from the rest of us standing
down there and below
and we heard those tunes
once softly played on stereos
but it was in front of us now,
loud and blaring, encapsulating all.
Days and nights once useless to me, were melded into one.
and who cared about the outside -- the violin's yelling,
the trumpet's blasting,
those cymbals crashing...
Let's dance and dance
and we'll watch them above,
flying up into minds, stored forever.

71: Holidaze

The maze is in shambles
with all of its secrets
and mine are hidden here, somewhere.
I found hers and yours is on the horizon
as we reach to find it there.
What is it that makes us restrain from that bond
that you've been solemnly seeking,
because the atmosphere's calling
and the moon is waiting for us to close our eyes.
to pretend it was Christmas
for one last time
before all this ends
and
is
over
with.

70: Maths

Hating equations, hating the right and wrong
but loving the grey in-between.

How awful to be so throughly justified
by the shortened proof,
this deadly code.
The summary of life and all our dwellings
will never inhabit
the games of this short
I'll never let it; never, ever.

Aall of the effort to be struck down
by the blasphemous pages of answers --
well I have questions of my own, of living eternity
but this numbered proof will never be able show it.

69: I Walked

No, those shoes were made for stomping on you
to walk away from the dirt
that carried you on to be the cause of us united
and the break of all material eyes.

Not lying, the machine goes on
repeating beats man-made
those years ago
outsourcing ghosts of the unsupported families
with the heaviest hearts, we're overthrown.

68: Unabashed

He was a romancer with a heart untold,
a witness to his own love crimes.
The cause of the effect of his own downfall,
Blindly stepping on all the steps.

Away, away, the fuel grows old
but re-ignited, it does flame, when called to attention
with no caged desire just a cliff to jump off of
and into the dark.

And he did take that risk with a boastful feat
and the heaviest heart
weighed down to his knees
but he didn't accept his own tragic myth
that he dared so much
to
conceal.

67: Rosedale

Living in the WASP's nest
in the middle of the neighbourhood
but we didn't dare to enter
and be stung by the beliefs of another,
instead, they stuck to their own kind.

And the trail dozed off in the calamity of woods
and the mother of nature
who was absent-without-leave.
And the wasps stayed buzzing
with their manufactured morals
sticking rightly to the roof
of that pretentious tree.

Never talked, only saw the glimpses of another kind
Barred by society's hidden walls.

66: War on Film

combat boots for wartime dreams
hide in the movie theatre,
watching the tragic scenes.
have the flashback video montage -
ridded with deja vu
and the recollection
of a dusty, winding path - as we sit on the armchair
and pray that
everything is in its rightful, old place.

65: Autumn

Bring a scarf tomorrow
weave it past your neck and hair
and when the wind picks up the phone to call you,
go and meet it there.

'Cause the windows shook alive and vital
the walls echoed in the silent storm
the doors slammed shut
in utter revival
in this battle between the outdoors
and man, alone.

64: Businessmen

The seat was taken by a stranger
who wore suits with certain leisure
with defiance in every single thread,
that was custom tailored.

and his shoes, did they shine so
with opaque beauty?
uncracked and unbent, like perfect stories.
Too fortunate, it was, to be so consumed with the other,
and to keep the old style as it was and as it were.

63: London, she's coming home

London, she's coming home.
Our adopted child who grew alone
and yes, the gifts are brimming
with vague thoughts and complimentaries.

She's coming from the other sphere
carrying loads of culture on her back,
with mouth shot from all its
debate and glory,
her famed spirit never got enough.

London, she's our brave old girl
with her boots to kick
and the fashion twirl
but she can't make a beauty out of nothingness at all;
don't mind her endless uselessness
and waste-worthy presence
because after she leaves,
London, we will fall.

62: Gems

Diamond rhapsodies and jeweled thorns
give your kings those crowns you made,
his head it will adorn. Down the streets and around the bends
through narrow alleyways,
deep dead ends and darkened tunnels,
riches they contain.
But the city forests sparkle just for the night
with gunshot background music,
those shadows dancing silently,
playing over percussionists' beats.