For You
Settling in to the lowlands
I could see your hair
blowing around and up and over
translucent photos
She took them
and she knows.
She cannot be around you.
I walk the plank
I throw it overboard
pictures that were never shot
entangled nights we never spent
all wrapped up in my memory
they call it psychosis
but I know you are real
and I can touch you
if I want to.
She baked us bread and then left us alone.
I could taste you
and then I could swallow you whole
and you would be a part of me
but you are the best of me
and you bring out the worst in me
and if I erase it all
I will still be alone.
I ask you to stay with me
and she simply does not hear
I whisper
do you hear it?
Changing is the sea
and changing is not like me
but I would change for you.
Next to you I am exposed
for all I am
and all I am not.
I travel the lowlands
you sit in the sand
you hold out your hand
and I take it.
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Sky
Watching the sky, falling in.
The clouds chase my lazy eyes.
Blue untainted, no smoky guise.
Too deep for mirrored tricks within.
Drenching the earth it licks, a din
Of ground-groans fading, soft
And far, cascading aloft-
Away! -cleansed of their grimy sin.
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Observance
She was a virtuoso in her brazen composure
Suspicious, the tilt of her head as she bent over the missal
So visible, so vividly volatile
Like a breath of steam straining to be foam
Like sea-foam spray craving to rush
To rush and cry over the very rocks, mired in their steadfast prayers
Wary of watching eyes, she became a sculpture
The lines of her back fluid and clear
Her profile focused, her outline intense
Skimming inquiry through a blurring lens
The wind will soon blow her away.
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Glancing Blow
Piercing right through me
With your losses of crimson
Uncertain in a maelstrom
Of betrayals and crimes
From your embered past
And just for good measure
Your secrets kept too easily
With scars that feel like yesterday
Will never stop talking to you
You look at me in the morning
And I know those left at the station eyes
The uneasy boxer
With a talent for the game
A poet of the sweet science
Sparring and moving quickly between punches
Avoiding even the briefest of encounters
Ensures the cruelest prize of all
While the truth takes another swing
The champ orders another round
On the way to obscurity
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(2 votes, average poem rating: 4 out of 5)
Please
Please don’t say you love me
as you turn your back,
or utter a sweet “goodnight”
as though we’re even friends.
Don’t bury yourself deeper
in the mud of concrete suppositions
I’m fighting to free you from.
Perhaps you think it’s been erased
with a tearful “I’m sorry” or two
promised so long ago.
Maybe you are oblivious
to how a girl longs for a man
to tell her who she is,
that she’s captivating,
and set the standard high
for how men should treat his daughter.
Acrid anger eats me to rust,
but I search for healing.
I honestly try to think
you treasure me deep inside.
I truly want to believe
you merely aren’t aware how it hurts
with each smile I don just for you
and that you don’t realize
I have a bleeding heart
that loves you.
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(1 votes, average poem rating: 5 out of 5)
Patrick
I don’t want to write a paper
about a man I never knew,
but he has reached fame
that I have dreamed of too.
He deserves to be remembered
for the work that he has done
to preserve Irish culture
by his books and his pun.
So I write a long paper,
though it be tiresome and dull,
to honor Patrick Kavanagh
who rhymed and wrote so well.
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Dirty Pleasure
Cum, sweat, spit
Sliding between two passionate bodies
Desperate to achieve the same
manic high
Screams of pleasure
The resonance of your hand
against my ass
Fuck me…Fuck me….Fuck me…
Right now I’ll be whoever you want me to
Your bitch, your dirty slut
With your hand around my neck
And my nails down your back
Your dick is suddenly wet as
you make me cum
Then cover me with the release
of your ecstasy
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(2 votes, average poem rating: 5 out of 5)
daliesque
In a world where
Orange time runs backwards
Rainbows swirl and spit out black
And reality leans on a crutch
and so
Purple elephants ooze molten time from their skin
Words pluralized
Thoughts snthesized
We are all guilty
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(2 votes, average poem rating: 2.5 out of 5)
Easygoing doll
She is a happy-go-lucky,
pardon me, not suchlike comedy.
I don’t attest she does stand-up(s),
or starring sitcom(s).
A humble person she is,
very rare is that this is.
her heart has broke,
love is the only word she spoke.
I’m still tampering,
how come her heart keeps surrendering almost to any male human being?
Is this a mystery?
It’s not a dificult discovery.
Every night,
she toss and turn alight.
Her mission is shadowy,
I feel pity.
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(2 votes, average poem rating: 2 out of 5)
Oyster
One night life,
In the city of lights.
I sit inside a magnificent restaurant,
I dress in a fancy shirt.
It is black, jeans and heels.
My hair locks has style,
And a maintained pretty face.
The pearly oyster,
is on a plate.
I used my silverware,
to bring up the food.
One taste in my mouth,
feel like a million buck.
The meat is soft,
like ricotta cheese.
Color is vanilla,
served with black ole beans.
I am an observer,
of an everlasting gift.
Astonishing a thought:
(Voila!
It’s oyster with black beans sauce).
Enjoy it with wine,
when I dine.
I laugh and talk
thru out the nite.
as if i’m stalked,
such a fool to keep me up this late.
Time is running out,
I finished my midnite crave.
A night of glamour has soon vanish.
For when the sun rise,
it is just a glamorous lie.
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(1 votes, average poem rating: 1 out of 5)