I wake
and the world
has not changed
since last I looked
The world wakes
looks at me and says
What are you still doing there
waiting for the world to change?
(D. James)
Category Archives: breakfast poems
What I remember
What I remember
are images
The words are gone
and live a life of their own
They never call me nor write
but the images
are still with me
and sometimes
I do wish
they would pay rent
EL SEBBO
Mirror, mirror
Eros is sore
EL SEBBO
Delicate
Delicate
isn’t my name
and yet I am moved
by the imbecile
gently led by his father
down the street
while screaming songs
at the top of his head
I am moved
by a white cloud
standing still
over the city
like a gentle threat
I am moved
by your breath
gently lifting the sheets
deep in the night
when I can’t sleep
Yes delicate things
move me deeply
and confirm
the rage hidden
at the core of my words
The rage of impotence,
hope and rebellion
- but not despair
Despair, you see,
is too delicate
for me
EL SEBBO
There’s no place like home
but we sure wish there was
EL SEBBO
cereal killer
I shot
the box
of Rice Krispies
stabbed the
Fruit Loops
and strangled
with bare hands
the Raisin Bran
Now
there’s nothing left
for tomorrow’s breakfast
(D. James)
