Cliché Parades

I don't know what to write to feel better.

I don't know how to write to feel that power,

overwhelming through any conflict.

You were so close, so far away,

all in the same cliché parade.

Deserve you?

The matter...

Does matter?

Can't put the ideas straight right.

Through courtains of night.

The words, the wishes

The more you whisper the passion

The less rise above prejudice,

for they fool eyesight

as the very absurd of delicate thunders.

Realise the pros and cons?

After all, dancing stupidly

Cleaverly sitting, ended up to be the same

To the eyes of mere tact

To the fingers of your facts

No more than rats, those who sweeten you

By staying steady,

Always more than ready

On cliché parades.

Anger, what I feel,

Is anything else than dust?

Engulfed by the very river you were trying to contain

Crossed by blood and sweat

Crossed why not by tears!

Nevertheless, you have never took less from them.

While I try to wipe your tears,

While I want to strip your fears,

I encounter constant denial.

Want me to be the victim?

The sick man? so you can claim to be the cure?

You've certainly seen enough.

Though tough is to drain the pain

I'm tired now, words are hard to cast,

And harder if I want them to endure.

Only make sure, before is too late

Not to cast them before cliché parades.


But when seen above,
Fingers pointing glance the shadows
Blackbirds search the rubble
And too much for troubles,
You reach those of a wall.


I'm no poet, I'm no lord
"Thou show the sadness", they say
Cheer the pencil for a better shot
Accurate sighs, yes! not sights!
Of nerve before the damage done.
And then, I throw the word
Against the gore of self strained savage roar.


I hear from friends "add another stanza"
I hear from them "give it a sigh of joy"
Accept the challenge and keep a line in time
Searching the perfect refrain
When the wings of the conflict shade the parade.


[...]

Written by Ezequiel F. L. Cabrera