Mere Imaginings

Almost everything
I remember
Of you
Are mere imaginings

Just the stories
Shared
Of a man
Long gone
Made real
By the desperate
Longings of a son
To feel
Something
Anything
For his father
Other than shame

My dwindling pride
Clinging
To the hope
That perhaps
You were once
Something more
Than the shell
You became

I tell them
I never knew that man
That those memories
Are not mine
Yet now
Those lies
They are all I have of you
Beyond the small scatterings
Of pain
I learnt to forget

---

This poem is from the book, ‘A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken’.

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Mojito the Bandito

Mojito the Bandito,
On the run from the law.
Hired an impersonator,
So in two places, he can be saw.

Committing crimes,
But seen with an alibi.
The adventures he had,
His schemes weren’t shy.

The cartels took notice,
Alas it couldn’t last,
Told Mojito to stop,
Or his head they would blast.

But Mojito wasn’t stupid,
He had a plan to enact,
Told his impersonator to wait,
Then it was Mojito’s time to act.

He shot the man himself,
Displayed his body on the town’s wall.
Made the cartels happy,
And Mojito attended his own funeral.

Now he rides free,
A gun at his side.
Named Mojito no more,
His face he must hide.

Beware the masked bandit,
The criminal with no name,
He will kill you where you stand,
And leave with no shame.

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly’.

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