Ken's Poetry

Cafe Words

Cafes are full of words.
You cannot see or hear them
but they are piled
in the corners of the ceiling
where they were thrown away.

Here are pieces of gossip,
fragments of good news,
strands of misery,
old jokes from old folks
passing the time away.

Words of love
like feathers on the pile,
strings of abuse
broken and decayed,
real stories from real life

enduring in a real-life way,
deceits and conceits
brittle and broken
pressed into dark cracks
crazed away from the light.

They are all jabbering
in silent disarray,
white noise of conversations
present and past crackling
in the ether of the mind.

I hear a sigh, a cry,
as they spark across the page.