All poetry links on 'Linkage' page.

I Must Accept What Cannot Be - By Nicolas Gordon

I must accept can't what cannot be.
I see you and my heart dissolves in pain.
You are not dead, but you are dead to me.

What happened to our love's a mystery.
I rummage through our empty past in vain.
I must accept but can't what cannot be:

That someone else now shares your off-hand "we,"
Now feels your tender tongue all feeling drain . . .
You are not dead, but you are dead to me.

I cannot lay aside my agony:
Again, again I play the same refrain.
I must accept but can't what cannot be.

And yet I know this tortured ecstasy
Is just my way of holding you again.
You are not dead, but you are dead to me,

And still I cannot bear to set you free,
That of our love some remnant might remain.
I must accept but can't what cannot be.
You are not dead, but you are dead to me.

Do You Want Me? - Nicolas Gordon

Do you want me? What's the matter?
You're afraid some door will close?
You want the scent without the rose?
The moans of love without the chatter?

You think our love might be a tomb,
The only exit through my pain?
You'd rather put things off again
To give your fantasies some room?

You think: she's great, but in a while
I might get bored? Or something better,
Filling out a tighter sweater,
Might flash me a quick come-on smile?

You don't want to be tied just yet
To just one future, just one kiss?
You think about all you might miss
And hold out for a better bet?

Well, fine! But then why do you haunt
Me like a jackal night and day?
Why, when my interest seems to stray,
Are you so sure of what you want?

Why, when I dare so much as laugh
At some guy's jokes, you go ballistic,
Nasty, borderline sadistic,
As if somebody touched your stuff?

And yet when I hook on to you,
You will not let yourself be mine,
Take out your fears and draw a line
Between what you and I can do?

But freedom must be mutual,
And it takes two for one embrace.
You can't both love and freedom chase,
Unless you would adore a fool

Graduation - Nicolas Gordon

Graduation is a time
When our thoughts turn naturally
To vandalism, sex, and crime,
Now that we at last are free.

Our teachers think we're well prepared
To make decisions on our own;
But now, perhaps, they're running scared
As they listen to this poem.

Don't worry, folks, we aren't crazy,
Though sometimes we look that way;
Just annoyed, bored, and lazy
As we make it through the day.

So just like birds out of a cage
Or slaves set free from toil and pain,
We aim to try to act our age
And be for now a bit insane.

For life too soon will close its doors,
And then as we grow old in years
We'll teach our own kids to be bores,
But hopefully they'll stuff their ears
And do as we dream, not as we do,
Facing life a tad askew.