Tag: tea

Try Again (day 738)

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You cannot win every day you try
You cannot lose every day either
You cannot fly among the birds
Without walking among the worms

You cannot begin to know it all
You cannot learn without advice
You cannot grow without a breath
Of inward, deep, and conscious thought

You cannot smell the flowers in winter
You cannot speed the times of seasons
You cannot walk amongst the trees
Without a path to lead you forth

You cannot love without a love
You cannot hope without a dream
You cannot be without a seat
You cannot cry without a smile

But in the end it pulls us in
We wrap around and believe within
A lasting hug, some tea to share
You and me as we try again

Paper Route & Pig Tails (day 731)

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I woke as I usually did
Tightened up my roller blades
And went about my route
Delivering papers
That was my chore
I was an older paper boy
Paper man if you will
We had exchanged glances
On and off regularly
She fancied my roller blades
7016 at the top of the hill
She was a young retired skater
Whose quirkiness attracted me
We started to talk
More as the days went by
I got to know her
Comfortable in her ways
She was interested
In a twenty something year old paper man
Not much older herself
It wasn’t my only job
It was a side thing for sure
But it was what it was
Which brought me to her
We flirted, why not?
Enjoying it immensely
But the professional I am
I had a route to deliver!

I remember one time
She asked me to help her with her hair
She had fascinating clamps
To hold her hair in there
They were clips
That were held with bolts
Needing to be tightened
Her hair was parted down the middle
Strictly, thin hair
Cut a few inches above her shoulders
Dyed, always a new catchy colour
Two short and cute pig tails
Which she spun in towards themselves
In an upside down heart
Then up the middle
Were they were clamped into place
Contact is a beautiful thing
A heart racing against my heart
I felt it, she felt it

She invited me over one day
She was aggressive like that
Which explains why she was
So comfortable topless
I was shy, what do you do?
I’m not used to that
Try to fit in, just act casual
Tea was on the menu
I like mine with sugar
We talked and flirted
An old china cup was delivered
Her house smelled like lilacs
She was pure coconut with passion
Dancing about the room
Graceful steps was dancing to me
Telling me of stories she had once lived
I leafed through the books on her shelf
Many I had read, bookworm I am
I was in a corner
Trapped without chains
She wandered over to me
She was topless, of course
Big black panties
The kind that come up past a bellybutton
But, underneath them she had on a thong
As she wandered over to me
She was fumbling in them
Head cranked around, hands all jumbled up
Confusion on her face
With me watching unashamed
She turned around
And pushed her bum into my crotch
It was more like her bum
Into my thighs
She was a shorter, fiery girl
Fumbling with her thong
Acutely pointing her bum
And asked me if I could help her
Straighten out her panty line

There is something about that first moment
When your hand touches the skin of a lover
Especially around their hips… a soft stomach
Something magically innocent in those moments
Enough to erupt a thousand spitting volcanoes
And tingle the tips of toes with an excited sensation
Quivering the knees while reaching out for more

Insanity and the Devil (day 726)

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I’m insanity
It’s nice to meet you
Can I leave on my shoes?
They’re not that dirty, really..
I’ve only trudged through hell
And the muddy banks of depression
Along the copse of Zen
And through the fields of peace

I’ve come for a spot of tea
I think it’d be nice
If we got to know each other
It’s going to be a long road, soon
And we’re better off
Being somewhat familiar with each other
To save from growing pains
Later on down the road

No cream, two spoons of sugar
Please

Claudious Zemphirian Alehandro Phillithanian (day 687)

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It is I, the majestic phoenix who shall rise
Into the dawn of a new land
Glorious in my rebirth and reaching unbounded heights
Heralded by lookouts and prophets
Who have foreseen this same dawn through ages
I shall rise to save the existence
Adorned with praise by all
As I step up to the..

Excuse me?
No, I do not need any tea right now
Thank you though,
You’re very kind

aPhoenix

Claudious can be purchased here.

Grandma’s House (day 596)

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It’s those times as the sun is going down
When the blinds have been pulled for the night
And the water stops dripping off the roof
That we remember, and enjoy
Sitting next to Grandma, teaching her computer
And sipping on a new cup of tea
It’s these moments in life that we find peace
We sit down in a chair that is older than I am
And relax to the audible buzz from the furnace
The same furnace that blows cold air

Grandma is getting old these days
Though she still lives alone
Boiling her soups with lots of garlic
And a toaster that pops up four at a time
I remember when she first got that toaster
That sits next to the old high chair
I remembered as I reclined on the ol’ daybed earlier
I also noticed the intricate detail of the eavesdropping
A classical pattern, woven with a jigsaw
Clearly a tasteful choice by grandma

The sun is almost down now
I’ll be leaving soon enough
I can only hope for peace then
As I make the trek northward home

Transformations (day 500)

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Searching and crawling through these empty streets
They call my name but I heed them no attention
Memories caught up in my thoughts like tumbleweeds in a corner
Hot water failing to warm my shaking bones
Sunlight stretching into the corners my toes fail to remain
And I cry with streaking mascara and ugly sobs
Deeply lamenting the loss of all that’s been known
Holding onto something that’s simply figurative

And then, like a slowly falling leaf from the nearby tree
A quiet calm flows over the angst and tremors
Little sparks of light gather at the tips of my toes
My brow begins to smooth as I close my eyes and smile
Children playing comes into focus
And the tea smells just as it should
A transformation undergoes just as the turning of seasons
And the lightness of my steps

Dirty I Dry (day 491)

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I’ve met you on the streets of Athens
Scribbling notes in you paper bound pad
I’ve photographed you sitting in a doorwell
Along the dark streets of Budapest
I’ve handed you change from my own pocket
Calm as I was, poor as I be
Because I’m a fortunate soul
You, begging with a bowl
Most would call an ornament
From the crumbles of Istanbul
Sitting on the stool sipping your tea
I’ve washed in your bathroom
My dirty hands of pain
As I smoked the hookah bong
Struggling forward in the death of desire
Bucharest pulls from my hands
I’ve slept alone with my fathers ghost
Dying in the ashes of a holocaust
Purified in the frozen ocean
Of the forgotten Baltic lands
Riga took away my pain
One knitted scarf at a time
Until my condom did run dry
My bitch dog fattened on the ham discards
As I strolled choking through the graves of kings
And as I stripped bare
And threw myself about the rocky shores of Stockholm
I learnt that I could still walk
In spite my increasing desire
To elevate my feet, out of the rain
Dry, protected with the wax from a can

I Died Today (day 464)

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I died today in a little heaven
With stained tiles and purple partridge
The butterflies that rested easily
swept into my gaze assuredly

The music that wafted up at me here
Claimed part of the breath that I expelled
The vine with its grapes heavy overhead
Planned ahead for another day

The tea’s aroma that filled up my lungs
Calmed all my passive thoughts evermore
And with their gentle nuzzling betrayed
I closed my eyes so peacefully done

The Moon (day 225)

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The halls of glory fit through these streets
Stringing up Gothics, and racing for tricks
Last time we settled down for a nice cup of tea
We were asked if we’d like some bottles of wine

How horrific it seems to be bothered for bliss
When all that’s desired is a little of this
Perhaps the young starlings will speak to us soon
With hope it will let us know we’ve come twice round the moon

Destiny (day 199)

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I go through spells of masturbating and drinking tea
Drinking tea and masturbating
It’s like I have an inner desire to be some kind of
Fucking poet, wracking my brain for some utter nonsense
Only to release it with an unconventional treble clef

It’s nonsense, fucking utterly nonsense.

As a young boy I’d sit mesmerized by the flicker of
Angel’s wings floating through the garden on hot summers days
The other fellas would be off playing footy
Me, I’d just enjoy the cool breeze as I lay back
Slow buzz of another little creature coming to pry at my brain

Now, I’m wrecked with heartache that fails to leave me
Little bursts of memories that inflict me with so much agony
I’ve replayed it over and over again, each time with a new smell
But each time it lasts a little bit longer
Maybe one of these times there won’t be an ending to the sad verses

Tomorrow I’ll spit into the middle of the soup
Chanting my spells and adding a drop of blood from a virgin’s finger
I wont wake the dogs for they don’t dance with my words
They act stupid and make believe they don’t see the ghosts that I see
I know better, we all share miseries destiny