Mess, Dirt And Stains, And Learning To Love What Is There Because You Have Nothing Else Anyway Poem by RIC BASTASA

you say welcome
this is the house


as you enter the
door you can see
the chairs in the
dining table talking
louder than before
all in different
directions

it is a loud house
and you just don't
know where is the place
for the hangers and
the mortar and pestles

and those
clothes are roaming around
like hell
looking for a line
to hang themselves
at least
for propriety
and comfort

in the kitchen the
unwashed dishes are
singing in a rock
concert

cups are still messy
with coffee and
some chocolates
freezing on a cold
temperature today
they are bearing
their own hack wounds

the dogs are sleeping
on the floor
and they have not
experience any form
of bath at all

and the fleas are
jumping in a circus
they do not care
who you are and what
you do or what you
say

are you a guest?
guests are made to
suffer here
you have to clean
your own room if
you want to spend
the night and sleep
with all risks
like a snake may
enter through the
ceiling of this
stray house

the house itself is
crazy
the foundation is
on the sand
and the beams are
termite stricken
the windows are
having all sorts
of skin diseases
and the pillars
are failing supports
they shake when
you step on the
floor

you say you must
learn to love this
house and its
dangers and mess and
dirts and stains and
dusts and mud
and all those shattered
glasses
and burnt sofa
and ashed curtains

you are a vagabond
and he is a gypsy
and you have nowhere
else to stay

however if you are
patient enough
stay for a while,
work hard, earn
your own money, and
be ready to move
to another pretty
and clean and well kept
house the next day

and if you want
if you have no traumatic
experience at all
about a family
you can bring your wife
and your children
along with you

gee, did you regret
having married that early?