Hazelnut Latte

This one's for the loners. Although I hope you get that I'm trying to convincing myself a little and there's some angst to it.
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I'm at a cafe and I look like a guy whose date didn't turn up
But who is also at the same time not bothered about it
And it surprises them
For its odd to find someone completely on their own these days
For solitude is rare
And so the people stare

The waiter comes to take the order
And he questions the singular nature of my hazelnut latte
And I reassure him with complete contempt
"I will be here for a while and alone
And it's nothing bad, or sad
For this is just the way I like it
And no, I won't fight it"
And he brings me complementary chips.

I hated the chips  
They were dry and over-spiced
And a speciality commonly ordered in the cafe
And I hate specialities and commonalities.
I don't sympathise or conform with them, you see.

I finish my latte with the express understanding that people will always judge,
And no, I won't budge.
I just won't.
I finish my latte, glass dry
At least I try.
And the waiter as he will, brings the bill.

I pay it all and get my change
And I leave a tip.
A tip good enough for two people.
I walk away alone as I came.

The Weakness of a Man

I haven't written in ages. I mean I have but haven't posted my work. I had my reasons. I was convinced I'd give up blogging completely. And now I'm back. I have my reasons.
This goes out for men, a day after Father's day.
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Whoever said 'men never get weak' in his own confidence,
probably never let a butterfly rest on his hand
Probably never stared at a flower for a long while
Probably never let the night sky overwhelm him
Probably never gave his heart away
Probably never had it tossed away
Probably never let it hang on a string
Probably never shed a tear for love ironically

All those things don't make a man weak
But makes a man, a man no matter what they may tell you,
Or feed into your brains,
Or over the ages yell at you.
But men have to get away with it all,
Hide it somewhere very very safe.

For a man is erroneous.
A spawn of his errors and of the others' before him
Barely complex. Simplest machine
And stuck with the question:
'Can he afford to make more errors?'
And so hide it all, for chances are you'll make a mistake,
And lose everything at stake.

And a man is often a 'dog'
Dirty. Feral. And despised for the way he is.
Or what he becomes, to his tragedy.
But a dog can paint euphoria with a wagging tail.
Men don't have tails.
Maybe we were born with one but they chopped it off.
For a man can't show sorrow, love or hate
So a dog is better than him.

And a man is often stupid.
For he let his heart beat more.
An idiot is better, for he is lost in his idiocy too much to care and use the heart that way
And a heartless man is unfortunate and wasted.
And so a man is stupid and may always be one.

But a man, I suppose can be trained. Much like a dog
For even though a dog may seem better
A man basically has the traits of one
He can be wild and rabid, and bite when he wants to.
And he can be too loyal.
He can love too much.
And can be left to strayed too.
And he is.
But that's alright.
For a man is erroneous.
A spawn of his errors and others before him.

Whoever said 'men never get weak' in his own confidence.
Probably never gave his heart away.
Or maybe he did.
He sold it.