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The Philosophical Bread

I went to the bakery, a simple task
To buy a loaf, nothing to ask
But life, with its subtle sway
Turns the ordinary into a display

The bread, round, golden, and neat
Waited for me, a silent feat
As if it knew what I didn’t see
That I was searching, though unaware of what it could be

It looked at me with a knowing gaze
Understanding more than I in these days
Too perfect to be just a b...

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bread   neat   philosophical   cold   perfect   golden   true   missing   silence   hand   ask   living

The cake

Once upon a time, there was a cake that was not just a cake
It was the cocoa powder, dark and bitter earth
that once was seed, fruit, promise
It was the butter, golden fat, almost alive
melting under touch, like fear or desire
It was the sugar, sweet and cruel
dissolving into itself
like memories that refuse to be remembered

The eggs are cracked, fragile shells of worlds
and from them f...

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cake   memories   sweet   cruel   inself   sugar   air   resistant   beginning   golden   eggs   fear

In golden light

The streets of the past have a golden hue

Known to only me and you

Forgoing the shy starlight

A golden youthful yellow delight

 

The nights were littered with gold

A yellow wind left to behold

Sunlight at night

What a golden honey sight

 

People, cars and dogs

Streaming through a yellow fog

Christmas fairs and hot chocolate

A warmth and love now forgot

 

...

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light   golden   gold   night   Christmas   warmth   lamppost

Laugh to Live.

 

Happiness, in hands for you.

If you decided, not to be sad.

As a cup of water, to drink.

To clean your thoughts, to be glad.

 

Sadness, does not need to broach.

It always knocks, worried heart.

But Happiness, with a golden coach.

Asks, to ride happiness cart.

 

The Brain is yours, β€œto make use”.

Positively, think of your own.

Feel your value, never abuse.

...

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laugh   live   happiness   hands   you   decided   sad   cup   water   drink   clean   thoughts   glad   sadness   need   broach   knocks   worried   heart   golden   coach   ask   ride   cart   brain   make   use   positively   think   own   feel   value   abuse   get-up   early   dawn

November (Golden fallen)

And so as nothing leads to nothing

and your weary eyes

leaves turn golden then they fall

grasping for the past

 

An old tramp in the corner

monument of life

you used to own the whole world too

benches for thrones, friends to trust

 

All is gone yet you still live

bursting with sweet love

 

Love of golden fallen leaves

- that is what you've...

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november   golden   fallen   old tramp   leaves   monument of life   dali

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