Colors Of Trust Poetry Archive 3
Advocatus Dei
give us your suffering
your guilt
your pain.
give us your need
to have
no control of your
life
but not
to consciously know
you need
that.
we know what to do
with all this
we will tell you
you will feel better
you are watched
and protected
at the same time
feeding your guilt
to keep you
and we will keep you...
and we will keep you
from knowing
the full consequences
of your choices
because they are not
yours
any longer...
oh, and send us
money
lots
of money
balm
for your
sinner
soul
tithe to us
pay us
to increase
your
guilt
destroy
your self-
esteem
replace it
with
worship
of
the
face you choose
as
god.
and then we grant you
membership
in the world's
largest
street gang --
Christianity.
No
thoughts
allowed.
The Ballad of I-74
Couple of beers
couple of hits
and a long
drive
home...
thinking of her..
going home to her
i want that b***h so bad
and shes going to tease me
and abuse me
and lead my
damn fool a**
on
again
I ache...
man I want her...
seeing her
that soft creamy
naked b***h in front of me
touching herself
begging for me
and then rejecting me
god I hurt
god I want her
aching...
another beer
getting hard, it aches,
god...
i need her...
to f**k her
get her out of my system
b***h.
man...
so hard
need
i cant stop thinking
about it
about her
another beer
another hit
i need to get rid of this memory
get her out of me
cut her free
cut me free
but man...
it's down there
rock hard
pulsing
aching for her
I cant stop
thinking
about her
if my
body won't
forget...
b***h...
cut her off...
another beer
another mile
down I-74
through Virginia
virgin b***h
cut...
empty beer bottle
empty like
her
heart
aching...
break her
break
BREAK
Smashing the bottle
against the dash
against her face...
b***h...
cut her off
man I hurt
hard.
want her.
cut her free
cut me free
cut me...
yeah...
cut me free...
can't stop thinking
while it's there...
take it out
rub it
thinking of her
squeeze it
choking myself
choking her
cut her from
my memory
cut me free
cut me
cut...
why the f**k not
that'll show her...
cut her off
eat her alive
swallow her memory
forever...
yeah...
that will fix her
b***h.
broken bottle
hard
acheing
yeah...
fix her...
cut her...
hot...
oh, hot...
all this blood!
make Her bleed!
bloody seat
bloody bottle
bloody hands
oh, bloody f**k
almost...
yeah...
press it harder
saw at it
cut myself
free
see how you like that, b***h,
yeah....
blood pouring out
like thick wine
my hand clutching at
the part of me
that aches for you
pulling
tugging
as the other hand
with the broken bottle
cuts
me
free
from
you...
you b***h.
teasing wh**e
cut you away from me
swallow you
eat you alive
s**t out your memory
forever...
f**k!
no pain no gain
thats what coach used to say
b***h...
oh, s**t!!!
there...
its gone
shes gone
spilling out of me
with the shiny red
yeah, b***h!
you like that?
Cut you away...
eat you up and
s**t out your memory
forever... yeah...
blood and beer
tear it open
devour it
devour...
her......
lights, man
lights....
oh f**k
what the f**k
ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
fffff
*****
*****
kkkkk
.....
Victor
My son
to
be
who holds
the earth
in his
hands...
though often
prophesied,
i do not
believe
you will
ever
come
to be....
my blood
forbids
its own
continuance.
my dear
Victor
they said
you would
destroy the world
and renew it
and perhaps
along another path
a different
thread
of the pattern
of lives,
another possible
reality
you will
do all
that these
supposed
prophets
of earth
claimed,
who told me things
no man
should ever
know
about
his
fate...
and disbelieve them
though
I
do
the repetative
threats/promises/prophesies
leave me ill
at
ease...
conscience of the nation
conscience of humanity
casting aside the kingdom
he created
for the one
to which he
was
born
and
assorted
other
nonsense.
it has been
nearly
two
years
since I was
last
approached
by one of these
fools
purporting
my "destiny"
(and that of you,
my never-to-be-but-prophesied son)
and if fate
(and I am unlost to the irony in
this invocation)
is kind
they will
never
return.
temporarily alone...
I sit here
awaiting
your
touch
and it does
not
come.
I sigh.
It has been...
so long
so many years it seems
since we last touched
since we last spoke
since we last kissed....
as you make your way
through the baking sun
the desert lands
do you think of me?
my chest tightens at the thought
and I know
the answer...
is yes.
here without you
god, being here without you is like...
being alone
missing something,
some part of myself,
something
important.
I miss you,
love....
Her Tears
and her tears
were the rain
that fell
upon the earth
and the sun
stood
still
to grant her
the longest
sunrise
possible
and the clouds
that she perched upon
became
her
bed
in that time
where time
passes
all too quickly
and perhaps
in waking
she will find...
that she is not
and never was
alone.
Mon Coeur, Ma Niege
pulsing
pounding
at the thought
of you
my leopard
my lover
my love....
mon coeur,
it is offered to you,
mon coeur....
mi amor
ma neige...
Calm, Content, and Quiet v.1 pre revision
The fire is warm
and the snow
is
falling
my love is falling
into my arms
we have been
too long
apart...
and I hold her
in my arms
before the blazing
fire light
and love...
Is.
Our hearts
are filled
with
Contentment.
No Sun or Moon
or Starry night,
nor lapis eyes
by candlelight
the fire is warm,
the snow is light,
and rises
as it falls.
Opinion
And here's the blueblackbird of
Happy Hour
and it sings a ribald tune
of sex and ocean breeze
flaps into the air
takes a shit on this sick world
and it twitters
and it chitters
like the squirrels
my cat
has often failed
to eat.
Go
Fly, Dragon fly
fly away
from me
the irredescent glimmer
of your freedom
masks the sulphur
of
the air.
Just Playing
sum peephole
nether
may ken
essence/scents (sense)
Buzzard
Ding
dIng
diNg
dinG
ring
for the King
and mr. m i c r o w a v e
Buzzes
no longer-------------------------------------v
its concave/vex hollowed out
heat plane (fly away)
is (let them eat/half) caked
with
all
our
yesterdays
and the wiring
was
only
so much
one <<<1>>>
man
can-do.
74MDay v.1
In front of me
you say the word
the heavens burst.
74MDay v.2
Standing before me
you mouth the sacred whisper
and the heavens burst.
A Very Good Girl
She was a good girl.
A very good girl,
and she loved him
and he loved her,
this she knew
without a doubt.
He surprised her with a ring
one autumn night
and she took it with a smile....
They kissed a little while
and she finally let a man into her bed.
"it will always hurt the first time"
they had said
but this hurt so very much
and he enjoyed the pain, his touch
was rough and hurtful, bruising flesh
and breaking gentle skin
and he took her, no, he stole her
as he raped what she had offered
as he tore her trust asunder
cast her love into the flame
then she lay there, sobbing, aching,
crying, weeping tears of shame
and he was gone, in search of... other game....
And nine months later...
you were born.
Your daddy never knew
about your perfect hazel eyes
the hell he put your mother through
that awful awful choice
which he forced
unasked
upon her
and as I look into your eyes
the eyes of other blood than mine
but still... my child.
the perfect image of your mother
honey hair and hazel eyes
and yet, so much of me, as well
in your attitude and actions...
What makes a father?
Donating one of two cells that meet
to form one?
or holding you tightly
until the nightmares pass
teaching your mother how to cry?
or helping her to teach you
to read
to love reading....
I am your father...
but then you never doubted that.
and now... neither do I.
The Shade of my Heart
The fires of the Sun
beat
down
as a hammer
on my soul
in this three fold land
this desert waste
a fire to temper
an anvil to shape
a stone to test
men's spirits...
My quiet love
my floating blossom
you are the Shade
of my Heart
the shelter
for my soul....
I will take you
in my arms
as night
rises.
A Whisper in Her Ear
I love you....
come to my arms...
I love you...
let me take you
I love you
let me touch you
I love you
love me.
NeoPenitence
Forgive me, Father,
for I have
Survived
You.
Sometimes the telephone rings and
Sometimes the telephone rings and
I hear your voice
and sigh
in
my silences....
Solace
My quiet love
you comfort me
within the darkness
of the satin nights
we share
and the clear blue days
and clear blue dreams
we hold
and are held by
as we touch
so softly
that fire
which crowns our beings
and meet
and merge
and....
Forever, as our day
I woke up this morning
from a dream of you
and sighed your name
and decided to spend the entire day
with you...
my quiet love, what a day it has been,
it feels a lifetime
or longer
from that first hello
to the last goodnight
and the dancing,
the touching
the loving....
What else could compare...?
~*
...nothing, my love
for today, was a day
made only for us
And we chose the path
of the love we made
When I opened my eyes
I knew, today was like no other
It was the first time, my day had
started with you, and ended
with us.
And now you ask...
How long will I love you
and my answer is this...
forever ...and a day,
till time is no longer, and dreams
aren't swept away, till promises are
all made....and the gods deem ...forever...
as our day.
*second half written by my quiet love
One Saturday Night
my glasses
are dirty
and the world
is blurred and spotty
I am getting a headache
perhaps I will buy
that book
today
that I looked at
last week
when my card
was demagnetized.
on monday
that new leaf thing
will start
to get
annoying.
Reading Nietzsche
Sitting here at the desk
reading Nietzsche...
some ignorant fool comes up...
"whatcha readin'?"
I scowl slightly and tilt the book
so he can read
(if he can read)
the title.
"Beyond Good and Evil?
is that a mystery?
or some jesus stuff?"
I roll my eyes slightly...
'It is a work of philosophy.'
"what's it about?"
(what the hell is philosophy about?
everything or nothing and anything in between)
I do not feel
like explaining Nietzsche
to some drunk
bothering me
on a warm Sunday night
so I tell him
a simple truth...
the best way to find out
what it is about
is to read it....
So I jot down the names for him --
Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche
translated by Kaufmann
Beyond Good and Evil
Jenseits Von Gut und Bose
and then I press a button
to make
the telephone ring
so I can pretend to be busy
until he leaves
and then back, back into
the intricate mind
and words
of F.W.N.
Interludes 120
Today
I got to play
with a hedge
trimmer.
I hope Lucy doesn't
get
jealous!
waiting
waiting on a call
that I do not think will come
from the woman
that I love
with all my heart
I know it will come soon, yes
but I really am not sure
about tonight
A Culinary Orgasm
Oh, the gods have smiled
and passed the laurels to you,
o chef divine
who has prepared this
ambrosian sustenance!
Fire
Brandy
Lemon
and Cheese
the sheer complexity
of aroma
of flavor
of Being...
with each small and
well savored
bite
of saganaki
I moan
yet
again;
tingling
rippling
waves of pleasure
throughout my
existence
secondary
perhaps
only
to the
soft touch
of my
quiet love....
independence park
and the ugly duckling
was touched
and torn
apart
by the pack
of wild
dogs
and they all
shit out pieces
of him
a rubber
osiris
without isis
and with a grin
the sweat doctor
named bob the vivisectionist
mixed him up with
some old feather pillows and
an old chicken bone
and
a few
other
things he found
along
the lake
and then the LIGHTNING
did not strike at all
because the sun was shining clear and bright and happy and all was
not good
for the little duckling
because the shit was drying and the doctor was sewing
and there were 4 (four) little boys with their own individualized
magnifying glasses
and joey had a heat lamp
and johnny had a picture of a naked lady
and jimmy had a pellet gun
and then there was arnold who was kinda the outcast when he wasn't
being the leader
and he had his daddy's matches and a box of cigars and a little brown
bottle with a brush and it looked like it might be clear nail
polish inside except it wasn't
and the duck didn't like that smell at all
but the kids
and the sweat doctor
didn't care and
the kids all lit up their enhanced cigars with
somewhat
more than a drop on each
one
and the vivisectionist still sewing as the sunfire dries
and the lifesfire dies
and the kids with their glasses
fry the little ants and bugs and kittens and demonspawn that
pass on a windy afternoon
and then a buzz from overhead
and a bright flash
and hours later the ashes settle on
independence park.
amateur
they say that
everybody makes
mistakes....
I disagree....
there are some people who
are so incredibly gifted in this field
that they must be said to
"Create" mistakes...
simply making isnt enough
a master chef does not "make" a dessert
but rather "creates" one...
and so it is with mistakes...
So to the fellow who made the mistake...
just remember...
you
are
an
amateur.
Moriarty
Friedrich names the people
slaves and masters...
commons, nobles,
not of property, but mind...
but it seems to me
the noblesse
has all burned away
leaving nothing
but the commoners
behind.
What happened to the time
of Moriarty?
That diabolic genius
who would settle for no rival
but a mind that matched his own
and matched it well....
Gods I need the age
when enemies had faces...
when they raised us up
instead of dragged us down
when the touchstone of a man
remained
the man he chose to name
his chiefest foe.
How I long for the days
of the Black Knight...
the noble enemy
regarded
with respect...
whom I fight
to the death
with the knowledge that I face
an equal foe....
But now has come the time
ruled by
the Great Unwashed....
The huddled teeming masses
trapped in slavery
they placed upon themselves....
No room for understanding or respect
No more the noble foe
but labels now
Almighty Good and Evil
reign supreme
within their withered souls.
Yet still I wonder where...
did Moriarty go...?
ribands
Reaching down
from my mountain
I grasp
the clouds
between
my fingertips
and weave them
into
ribands
for her hair.
Sir Raymond, Ever Valiant
The moon was shining clear and bright,
the sun was in his bed....
A Dragon brave and strong appeared
with golden horns upon his head
and threatened all the sleeping world
with flames of red.
In the desert sunset rising
was a knight so fair, so fair....
Deep brown eyes all flashing lightning
desert moon makes golden hair....
He rides! Rides forth to meet the foe
and end despair.
His name? Sir Raymond, Ever Valiant
never has he met defeat
except the sort he handed out
when faced with battle bittersweet
where those of lesser strength than him
refused surrender or retreat.
The fearsome dragon rears his head
and gazes on the tiny knight
he roars his loudest at the one
who dares to fight.
But Good Sir Raymond does not fear
the giant lizard's stinking breath
and loosens weapons from their sheaths
prepared to battle to the death.
He raises sword to meet the claws
but meets instead the worms foul flame
his sword is melted, arm is charred
but wounded he remains the same
the good sir Raymond, strong and brave
no dragon will besmirch his name.
He frees his axe with unburned hand
upon the worm himself he throws
attack, attack, without a pause
embracing death to end its pose
as master of the knights domain
at last, they close...
...and with a swing the dragon falters
with a chop the dragon falls
good sir Raymond is the victor
all throughout the lands, the calls
of glee and wonder at his deed
are heard in towns and castle walls.
Sir Raymond Ever Valiant
Dragonslayer is his title now,
and as the sun and stars collide
he wipes the sweat from off his brow.
And as the phoenix was reborn
so too, the Knight is whole again
with but a little mark to show
he faced the flame.
Avenging the 5th
I heard a "rap" "song" once
which claimed
a claim
to musicality...
they had taken the opening notes
of Ludwig Van's
Fifth,
dropped them something
like
THIRTY octaves
and thrown a "techno" mix
of another composer's
Prelude in D
over the top
and they didn't match
at all.
It is revolting enough
when they spew forth
their own "music"
but to corrupt
true art
is truly
Offesive.
A generation
of children
may grow up
so to speak
thinking that
Ludwig Van
wore dark sunglassses
heavy gold chains
smoked marijuana
had 27 inch subwoofers
that cost more
than his car
which cost more
than
his
trailer
home.
For that,
these wretched
"musicians"
should be shot
point blank
big gun
no mercy
call the maid
to clean up
what remains.
in fact, I think they were...
but I would have to surmise
it was more a matter
of their
lifestyle
than someone
Avenging
the 5th.
your stereo's too loud and you're playing bad music and pretty much
pissing me off.
Buhwuhwuhrrrrrrrr -- rattlerattle--BangBang/ratatatatatat
--IIYEEEEEEEEEHHHHHH!
What is it?
where is the music
in a few lines
of computer code
plugged into amplifiers
and speakers
to make the houses
rattle?
this mind numbing monotony
indististinguishable from its bretheren
except in the varying frequencies
and durations of
nonmusical sounds
more felt
than heard
and felt only in the physical sense
inspiring no emotions
save perhaps annoyance,
What the hell is this
laid aside the Russian Bass
the String Bass
the Thunder
of a great organ?
I will take Chesnekov
Beethoven
Bach
over...
whatever that sh*t is
you are playing...
any day.
(by the way --
It already raised your price
thirty bucks
and if it keeps up
I will have your worthless little
teenage gangster a*s
kicked out of
my hotel.
It's nice to be
on the good side
of the police.)
Whore
you pushed into My
Lover's life
think of the children
as they cry
who will protect them from
the Summer
Hot and Dry?
My Love sees through
you.
Her Heart, Her Love
amazes me
She takes you in
to save
your
children.
you
are so far
beneath Her.
The f*cking pays the habit
the habit
makes the
f*cking
the whoring
more bearable....
How many children
were cut free
from your infected loins?
How many babies died
for your white smoke
your holy veins?
How many souls
never found flesh
touched by your coat hanger,
whore?
(How many,
how many,
how many,
whore?)
(How many,
how many,
how many,
whore?)
The habit and
the whoring
which
came first
and which
will last?
I do not care.
you forced into My Lover's life
a subtle rape of privacy.
you seek to use her
as you use your drugs
as you use
your men
use you.
Though Her caring hearts appearance
seems a weakness
to whore's eyes,
no fool, My Love....
I Might have helped your children
but I would have let you die.
She
is a more
Forgiving soul
than
I...
She Is
a more
forgiving
Soul
than I....
A Free Day
This morning
you watched the sun rise
purple and silver
over the lake of diamonds...
the cherry blossoms
falling all around
and the breeze was fresh
and sweet.
A rare and endangered heron
was perched atop your car today
and looked at you
and let you
gently
scratch
its neck.
A beaver splashed you
with its tail
as you watched him
carry branches
across
the channel
and looked back at you
unashamed
as you laughed....
the Mother goose that hissed at you
the baby geese that squeeked
and followed you
around the courtyard
as you flew
your kite
on the gentle breezes
and watched
the falcon fly
around it.
Today you bent down
to the earth
and plucked
the tiniest purple flower,
a perfect orchid shape
from the thick grass
and you studied it
and finally
placed it in your hair
with a grin.
Today you sat and smoked
a pipe of
cherry tobacco
beneath a cherry tree
and the blossoms fell
upon
your brow
and you smiled
as if to say
"point proven."
Today you watched
the sun
setting
in fire
and glory
over the lake
of eagles
and went for a drive
beneath the clear
and perfect
moon
and stars
and three does
stopped
to say
hello
and their mate
looked into your eyes
and you looked into his
a proud strong greybeard
who nodded
at you
as to a
respected
peer.
And you watched
the moon
dance
on
the lakes
to song of cricket,
frog,
and loon,
before
drifting
into
sleep
and into
dream....
I Got A Buddy Name of Guido
A!
You gotta problem?
Watsamottau?
You want me to break
your f*ckin legs?
try walking
sans kneecaps, you son of a f*ck!
Don't f*ck
With Guido
that's all you
gotta know...
Don't f*ck
With Guido....
You see, my buddy
Guido,
he's just not the kind
of person
you f*ck
with....
He's a tough
sonofab*tch
and not a
real nice
fellow....
Just Don't
f*ck with him
and you've got a
f*ckin chance
to live.
Don't f*ck
With Guido!
Never f*ck
with an Italian
who has more guns
than chest hair
and more knives
than guns.
Don't f*ck
With Guido
don't f*ck with a
man who only gives
sicilian
neckties
for Christmas...
and the occasional
cement
shoe.
And of course
a little
lead
for all his
close
personal
acquaintances...
you get the
f*ckin point?
Guido is a loose
cannon
a hair
trigger,
one mean
sonofab*tch.
A!
You listenen'
to me?
Look into my
f*ckin eyes
you worthless
little
sonofab*tch!
You'd better look
right into my
f*ckin eyes
or your a*s is gonna be
so f*cking full of lead
you aint gonna
be able to stand
Ever
Again
I am trying
to save your
f*cking
worthless
life here!
You got a f*cking
problem with that!
Yeah.
Thats what I thought.
Four words
to save your
f*ckin a*s.
What are they?
Say it you f*ck!!!
Repeat after me!
Don't.
f*ck.
With.
Guido.
Ne Plus Ultra 52
Just a piece of you in me
you left it there one summer night
we were making love that evening
underneath the pale moonlight
with your finger buried deeply
but it left some nail behind...
now I'm screaming at the doctor
who is probing there so free
searching, searching for the piece of you
you left inside of me.
Ne Plus Ultra 53
Monarch butterfly
corpses stain my windshield
raindrops set them free
Her Whisper
The Lights are falling
in the sky
but rising in your eyes
while you melt me
in mere moments
with your words....
Modest
Standing Tall
atop my mountain
I gaze down
on my domain.
A world
at my fingertips.
My world.
Mine.
The forests
the gardens
the valleys
and mountains
the deserts
oceans
rivers
chasms
sky
clods
stars
moons
flowers
all
existance
within it
my own
creation.
My eyes snap
open
as the music
ends
and I reach over
to reset
the
dream.
Smiling Eyes
Your eyes seem to smile,
no,
they do smile
at me...
I can see that now
my quiet love
as the whippoorwill calls....
5:00 AM Phone Call
Its funny how every
time the telephone rings at five
A.M.
I know it is her and my heart
raves for her, at the thought of
talking
to
my quiet love
always
always
Always
it is the steady beep
of an incoming fax
of the nights figures
and always
my heart
for a moment
Sinks.
But I know
I will soon
hear
her,
whispering...
It's that simple.
See, you do what your family tells
you to.
No questions. Just do it. When
an order comes down you
obey.
That's just how it works.
The family takes good care of you.
Very good care.
You do what they ask and you do a
good job because
its your family.
You see that picture there, that's my
youngest boy, Vincensio... that was
taken the day
he became a doctor. He works in a hospital
now he saves lives every day....
The family, they paid
for his schooling.
The beautiful young lady there, that's
my daughter Gabriella...
she's a professional artist, those paintings
there, she painted them... the family covered
her art school, they found her
a first showing
from there she took off... very much in
demand now as a portrait artist...
and she's a wonderful cook, learned from her mother
god rest her soul
and her husband, he's a good man, too....
That one?
Yes, he's mine, too....
My firstborn, my heir, he was...
Gino.... that was taken the day before he
left
for the jungles....
So proud he was to serve
his country...
he loved these United States...
we all do, the entire family, but Gino,
he knew with all his heart that
this is the greatest nation in the world.
He
was one of the first to fall,
my Gino
was....
I still remember the day he was born,
my great uncle came in
and asked my wife
god rest her soul
so gently
and he picked up my son with those
hands that could kill a man
in an instant
and cradled him and bent
down and kissed his little forehead
gave him back
and looked at me with a tear
and said
"A Strong boy --
he's beautiful."
and left.
The family takes care of its own.
It's that simple.
Ne Plus Ultra 54
--Random Broadcast System
Yo ho ho
and a bottle of
Irish
Spring to my left
Spring to my
Right to Party
all the time
goes by so slowly
like the sands of the
hourglass
(on my computer
when I try to post
my poetry
with a bad
connection)
or a bad
hair
day
or a Bad
Hare
Day
for my cat
who is
deathly afraid
of
hairdryers
HareDressers
Snakes
Ladders
Air
wind
sea
smoke
rain
and so on
we'll be in love
beneath the
velvet sky
so blue
Bobby Vinton
died today at
the age of
legends
dwarves, wizards, dragons,
and hobbits....
Ne Plus Ultra 55
whoop dee doo
whup dee doo
how are you,
madame blue....
and how the hell is it spelled, anyway?
bloody gogo dancers.
I saw a cat outside my hole last night
it burned out every light
and serenaded vultures
underneath the springtime moon
in summer time
summer time
some time
some times the bugs get too angry and bite and sting too many times
and the RAID comes out
(raid good)
but
in time
inti me
int ime
ine time
what am I trying to say here
ine tmime
something like that
must inpire
even a bloodthirsty killerrabbitfanaticfantastico
to diversify
or something similarilililiy
versificated.
sometimes the ice
touching
feeling
stimulating...
and occasionally the time will come
when one must use ice...
over the nipples, the thighs, the neck
the ice travels
leaving its chill drippings
behind
to further stimulate as they travel across
taut skin.
Windy
you know, I remember once there was this lady
and she seemed to float
when she walked
(or did she?)
through the halls...
we called her Aeolia sometimes but most people didnt know what
that meant.
they just called her "Windy"
and she was like a fresh breeze blowing into our lives
with her ready smile and flashing eyes
intense, focused on her goal but detached from the rest of life's
problems
which she chose to see
somewhat
differently...
and her glasses weren't rosy, but the color of the sunrise in spring
with a thunderstorm on the way
and the rainbow to follow....
I wonder what happened to her after she woke from that coma.
A Surprise Beneath the Sheets
Mr. "Smith":
I know the girl
thats in your room.
I'm warning you,
you should not let her stay...
You choose to disregard
my subtle warning
I trust you will find out
the difficult way.
Oh could it be sweet Sally
once was Rutherford or George?
her tender curves an artifice
of habidashers skill
or perhaps that soft enticing form
was granted her through surgeons steady knife...
In either case I think you will
discover
a surprise beneath the sheets.
iziklaymares
When Time devours
the pastry flowers
and meaning is reborn
I wish to meet
your soft caress
beneath the misty morn
anticlimactic
rituals
of love or life, half torn
ere I come back
to be with you
beneath the misty morn
the Seventh Sign
Thank you
for not smoking.
It realy becomes a problem when
people smoke because it generally
means that they are
on
fire
Hazy Grey Morn
sometimes the day
will start up hazy grey
when the clouds blind the sun from the sky.
sometimes a crown
can come tumbling down
and the eagle can no longer fly.
it's alright for a song to lack harmony
it's alright to have poems without rhyme
but sometimes, its true, I am here without you
and I don't feel like I want to cry....
at the DMV
amid the grey figures
of humanity
a sparkle
catches my eye...
a flash of fire
amid the dust
a delicate finger
bearing a single opal,
a mitre
declaring its bearer
above all earthly things,
beyond reproach...
Yet the coldest ice
may melt
and the hardest stone
soften
at the proper
type
of touch.
Dessert
Strawberry kisses
from wine soaked lips
chocolate touches
from warm fingertips.
"Take me, my lover,
while music is high.
Take me forever!"
A kiss, her reply....
Comrade, can you spare a bullet?
a moment
pulling the trigger
before hot death
unleashes
steely mercies.
lightning dance
Pitch black night
thick grey fog
blinds my eyes
to you...
Cold damp dreams
Pale moon's light
brings you back
to me.
~
With a crash
the thunder celebrates
the winds'
caress
as they whip our hair
across the evening sky
we are one, the driving raindrops
cannot come between
but fall, glistening
glistening
glistening
~
while lightning dances
through the trees
the clouds
entwine
in harmony
we lay upon
the earth
entangled, wrapped
in human ecstasy
fresh new views
beneath the rain
that falls and dampens
fragile skin;
in this thunderstorm
as we again
begin.
10 Minutes
Sometimes
our lives must seem
like an old
romantic
comedy
my love...
Ten minutes
from you
to me
from me
to you
I cross third
as you cross seventh
and we never know
until
the next day
for sure
but you smell the cologne
in the air
where I passed;
or I
your perfume
and we know
once again
this monstrous gorgon named
Timing
struck out
at us
again....
Had I sat down on the bench
beside the fountain
to write this poem
today
we would have met
as I finished it,
your soft scent in the air
touching mine
and a hand on my arm
as I write
long hair brushing
my shoulders
and the pen, lost, the poemforgottenaswe
mentally deficient barn owl
flap flap flap splat
flap flap flap splat
flap flap flap bang
and he flies
over rafters
under stars
calling out to all the colors
of the wind
let me free, let me free
let me be! you stupid twitter bird
I do not understand
your eyes
I do not understand
your smile
but you fly, fly, fly
and you fail, fail, fall
beneath the rafters
in the barnhood
of my memory
Poetry Archive 4
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