Here I thought
our little connection
meant the world to you and me.
Somedays, like these days,
they pass right on through.
I can’t help myself,
but to put myself
in that place with you.
Love and all the sticky connections
I swear, I can’t help myself,
but to think of the days
when I was all up inside you
lost to time and the demands.
I could hold you close now,
there’s more than enough
free time on my hands.
Busy making beauties
I keep glancing,
up and over my broken shoulder
looking for the girl
who still always answers
the call or demand.
Category: Life,Love,Poetry,Erotic,Domination,submission,sex,Short Story, Midnight, 3am
-
-
The start of this,
the first verse,
love interrupted us
all because I fell in love.
To tell the truth
or truth be known
losing control to you
I am under a locked spell
honestly, from the start
I never had a real chance
making my own real way.
It was only yesterday
my long and heavy eyes
went searching
for that one perfect spot.
I can’t walk far in the sun,
it didn’t take too long
to find you there
naked against a dune.
Salt to heavy lips
I love how we kiss
mouth to mouth
ever so softly at first.
Pretty are the marks
the little twists and bite marks
all innocent and accidental
of course.
I want more,
allow me to build
a wall for you.
Come lay close with me
an hour at a time at first
let me taste the tiny sips
of your new perfume.
Yesterday,
I swear you promised
I could have a lifetime
with a locked smile
that only I could hide. -
I wanted you to be
the one who wouldn’t mind
me taking time
and using it
in a different way.
Honestly,
I swear we swore
I’d always use my size
to keep us all smothered.
Instead,
you washed everything away
in the flash of an instant,
my mind turned from yours,
I can no longer hear your voice
in the cold silence of this summer,
we should be lovers,
with our sun-kissed shoulders.
You sent two stupid texts
seriously, you don’t understand
just how far you flushed things.
Go out in the shark-infested waters
covered in blood
and read the words
you so loosely
let slip.
Go away
and leave me
alone in this quiet.
6/2022 *Washed Away* Jeffrey Scott -
Adrift with too much time to think.
I wonder how untrue
all those promises you made
were actually the best of you.
Anemic,
and clearly out of my depth
I never had the chance to tell you
exactly why I was so rushed.
Food and love,
starving to have my hand held
I’ve forgotten the taste of perfume,
how that scent lingers still.
Here on my tongue,
I whisper those private things
that were clearly meant for one.
I could sit and feast with you
filling my belly with sips of air
underwater holding my mouth full
I might need rescue.
There’s only one,
just one,
I hope you know My meaning
My infinite difference
between the outside and in.
I’ll be here a while
waiting on my ego to finish
probably longer than I meant
because you’ve not seen
these kinds of words
coming from me before. -
I can’t thank you enough, Grace.
You took the time to help erase
The love ruin running in my veins.
Today, I’m back in your arms
there’s something in the way
you take away the weight
letting me float in this world
I can’t thank you enough, Grace.
I want to honor you,
the proper girl
with all the original parts,
call me old fashion,
sometimes I know I don’t fit
in this fucked version world.
You adore me anyway.
I’ll celebrate you,
hanging wind chimes
just outside my bedroom window
as a soft gentle breeze
or a heavy gust
I know you’re always there.
Grace,
I can’t thank you enough.
-
I don’t mean to bother you,
but I will,
because the early morning sun
distracts what I see in you.
Perhaps this is love,
I never meant to ask this of you
my tragic wanting
time and attention work in unison
I’ll let today be my burden
and push away this ache
I have for you. -
Picking out the pieces
that were exclusively you,
love just isn’t the same
ever since I tasted
this thing I have for you.
First time golden riches
my eyes just have never rested
the cheap thrill of needing you.
I never thought I’d see myself
constantly looking forward
to that gut wrenching joy
of being lost with you.
These are the true words
that pay tribute
to the time and attention
you and your beautiful side
that truthful forever
I panic to think otherwise. -
Tonight will most likely be
the start of the secret garden
they’ll get all dirty
down on knees to palms.
Last years beauties
are filling the beds,
they need removal
it’ll be up to him.
The ground there
is completely sterile
the dry earth is begging
to come lay with him
listen to the stories.
The crisp and heavy conversations
are all inched up and guarded
trust will take a minute.
The dangerous girl is threatening,
because beauty like hers,
is a single lifetime event.
She encircles his body
stretched across his shoulders
the playful feline
interrupts the quiet
crawling slowly of course
she reaches for music.
The room is finally alive.
Lyrics play all hard
oh how the words
drag and pull him along.
She honestly doesn’t mind
his pleasure look
against the candlelight.
Cupped up under fingertip,
touch control,
it’s all he’s ever truly wanted
something to never forget.
The restless ache builds,
she squeezes hard,
still safe in her arms,
he understands,
she’s in charge. -
The secret language
has been spoken once before,
it now appears,
there’s another
who knows this special dialect.
So here’s the payout,
the girl will push love forward
it’s all she’s ever wished for
knowing all the unspoken rules.
Unopened and undone,
this girl is powerful
with strengths and marvels
she’ll never be matched or covered.
This is her year
awestruck and marveled
she has a way back
that’s truly all her own.
In speechless wonder
the lessons unfold,
starting with eyes
noticing tiny details.
This time however,
she’s put under pressure
passing in flying colors
the girl excels.
Second lesson,
she’s the teacher
in glorious detail
outline the compliments
with a calm steady hand
she writes the lectures.
The girl and her
intellectual charms,
it’s easy to see now
why she’s traveled all this way
to grasp the language
an ancient contract
sits in her hands.
She signs and hands it back
for the first time ever
I pray she returns. -
I know I’m supposed to be
asleep at this hour,
I’m up against a nude girl
who’s more than a distraction
her soft curves are at odds,
it’s hard, not to think otherwise.
Any second now
beauty is set to fade
I swear I’ve tried
to fall back asleep.
It’s no use really
trying to dream
in that other world.
I shouldn’t have gone so long,
between posting poems,
there’s too much to say
words get all bundled up.
I’m saying two things at once.
Love is altogether too much,
each time I say to myself
I love that nervous laugh of hers
I repeat words
that make me nervous
because anyplace anywhere
have been our instructions
for far too long.
I’ll scream tonight.
It honestly won’t matter to me
who hears me say the words,
just as long as you’re here
at the edge of our world
ready to jump all in.
I can’t help but
replace the worst in me,
honestly, you have prettier eyes
that see much brighter than mine.
My hot and feverish mood
I caught from you
can get all caught up.
I’m imprisoned with infection
that burns in equal measure
in the both of us now
so I look to you
and ask if you’re sure
anyplace anywhere? -
From the start,
and up until the end
there are other sides
we haven’t quite managed.
There are changes,
a transfer of challenges
we haven’t quite seen just yet,
we’re too busy to notice
just how quiet
life can truly get.
There’s nothing wrong with
starting from the middle,
there’s still so much more
we haven’t quite seen.
She’s centerfold pretty,
love is a compromised promise
let me break this down for you.
Most can’t commit,
I bet I could
love you better
from those over there.
Tonight with all the stars,
that’s what you promised.
I swear you swore,
if I learned to paint
you’d love every image.
It’s strange
here we are,
stuck in two different worlds
with no room to move,
it’s fucked up
thinking of you there.
You and your beautiful pictures,
don’t forget,
I’m the one who taught you
how to properly set the aperture.
I’m the one who held you,
just slightly out of focus
from the start
and up until the end
there are other stories
we haven’t quite said.
I could go on
showing tiny kisses,
the kind,
we haven’t quite perfected
because we’re still pretty flawed.
Divine intervention
I take the lights away,
you stop sharing images.
Time stops and settles
I last an hour
before I blind you
and you send
a shower photograph. -
There are times,
times like these
when I over think things.
Have you ever wondered
all the things
that have drawn you
to the edge of faith.
Maybe we could
walk together
holding hands in public
letting all the others
be the voyeurs for once,
like how we used to
look in their windows.
I haven’t said I love you,
perhaps my familiar voice
is stuck from saying
how much I’d be ruined
if you pulled away.
There are times,
times like these
when I over think things
and in doing so
I get stuck repeating
the very things
I should of said today.
Late last night you texted
you thought of me,
you know,
when you woke to pee.
I wonder if,
you have any idea
how much I love you.
The girl,
that would grab her phone
on the way to the bathroom
letting me know
I’m her first thought,
before nature calls. -
Tonight the sky shattered,
way up overhead,
there sits a million little parts.
It’s hard to imagine
not being with you,
the one I love the most.
Perhaps the sky shattered on purpose
the twinkling little lights
are there to draw us up,
eyes stare up into eyes
it’s hard here without you.
I know I’ve pushed you away
to create more space.
I know I’m careful
especially where I step
I’m sure you understand
the floor has been swept.
In a thousand different ways
I’ve asked if you wouldn’t ask,
and I know it’s selfish,
but I’ve spent my entire life
trying to convince you
I know myself.
You’re pretty,
in so many different ways
I sometimes catch myself
trying to act like you,
it’s impossible really,
because I can’t be you.
I can only love you
it’s enough to know
tonight the sky shattered
sprinkling a million pinpoints,
as my beautiful reminder
to look up
and make that wish again. -
The story begins like this,
on a warm summer’s eve
there was a nervousness
the two lovers kept apart
by the rules of the Kingdom.
Unable to obey anymore
one snuck into the night,
and from the start
the risk of being caught
only added to their excitement.
Oh, but to smell her once again
to hand hold and stare,
standing just under her window
a familiar voice was in the air.
“Is that you my love?”
They froze at their reflections,
thinking, how wonderful this was
to be back in each other’s arms,
the girl on the balcony froze
someone has seen her light.
“Juliette, are you alright?”
She turned and replied,
“I am more than alright!”
She stared down at her stranger
and with the softest of whispers
she instructed her lover
“Hurry and get up here.”
Finally, the two lovers together,
Juliette and Marie. -
On a platform
it’s strange standing here,
elevated above everyone else.
I swear I’m trying
to come up with the words
to help explain exactly how
this stolen feeling
is buried within.
Strangers push on me,
it’s obvious I’m in the way
I’ve been this way
long before now.
I push back,
keeping my ground
I honestly care
what some may think
I’m not moving
until I get this out.
Texting in a sea of strangers
who have no idea
how important this is
to convey love in this way.
It’s fine,
interrupting this busy world
and I smile because
I’ve learned to release,
this, I’ve learned from you.
My one true one
it’s a restless feeling for sure
to hear your voice.
That subtle laugh,
un-interrupting
but still, I stand here
on this platform
waiting on you. -
The start of my first and only
I swear I can stare at her for hours,
but just as equally,
I could turn and walk away.
I’m convinced, she’s my hero,
each and every time
I close my eyes,
it’s impossible
not to search for her.
My hero persists because
she filled this void
left vacant centuries ago.
Sure, she’s horrendously flawed,
it’s worth noting,
she has this soft glowing scent
a memory trigger for sure.
I know when she’s close
or has passed through a room,
that beautiful scent of hers
has always tripped me up.
I can’t quite explain
how all her little triggers
have imprinted on me,
and here I stand
next to my hero
watching her flawed powers
touch and take control. -
Into the gentle night
birdsongs have gone all quiet
their anxiously waiting
to see who will emerge
from that once broken blind.
The girl and her charms,
she has these stories to tell
against a softly broken accent
I love figuring out her words.
What’s even better,
learning that ancient language
hard against the universal truths
certain phrases in ones tongue
have the identical meaning.
So when things,
get all heated and such
across the touching layer
the girl simply reaches out,
so I can take hold,
and enjoy the ride. -
Finally, our summer-time has returned
it’s warm tonight,
you’ve come ready to play
that kind of warmth
where everything sits still
too tired to move anymore.
Nothing wants to be outside
not until things cool a bit.
There on top of the comforter
your room begs to be used again
in the old kind of ways.
Voices and sounds
are alive again.
Up on the saddle,
against the sensitive air
your long hair on shoulders
it feels good to be free again.
That topless stare
I know you love sharing,
eyeing the excitement in me
tonight is so brand new.
I won’t take time for granted
as long as we’re in this room. -
And we’re falling
eyes locked up into eyes
the death stare I suppose
through the layers we travel.
Hands reach and grab
in this weightless space
I know you love me,
the pressured feeling
we’re hurtling through time
I find the small of your back
and pull you into me.
We can no longer see
the place we started from,
leapt from really.
Together, entwined and spinning
in this, the controlled chaos
for always and ever
I can see our landing target.
With no time for words
we speak with hands and eyes
simple gestures,
I pull your hair back,
you smile at my last act,
with just seconds left
you twist your tiny fist,
maybe it’s your way
of telling me
you’re never letting go.
I’m jerked awake
to the same repeated dream,
it’s a nightmare really.
It’s never been easy
falling in love with a girl
who’s willing to jump
blindly
into this world. -
The color code
begging for the hour to hurry
the boy and his dark little soul
want to get up and leave.
I swear lover,
the night still bleeds
I can clearly see that pretty place,
it’s all I’ll ever have
the crimson leaves
placed in colored vases.
Maybe this is our better place
God knows I’ve prayed enough
damn, heavy sipping
the new, surely are different now.
With temptation set to ruin everything
I accept the bet,
heavy mouths and their whispers
sure, I don’t mind to listen.
There against the edge
claws dig in and twist
with full attention now
I have no other choice,
but to listen closely
to the girl who produces
the beautiful photographs.
Red colored vase,
inspiration comes once
love-making in the afternoon
the bright sun outlining
a very thinly laced dress.
The colors in eyes,
it doesn’t really matter now
that I’m all blind.
I’ll use my hands
to get around
I’ll feel the world
on all fours. -
Through the veil of trees
this is our comfort place,
and as strange as it seems
I know I can help you
come run with me.
Through thick and heavy words
want drips from the mouth
buried in those good Ol’ days
when we kissed all freely.
Let words come crashing down
don’t get all caught up
thinking how it’ll work out.
We’re here on the eve,
maybe we’ll emerge
from these trees.
I honestly don’t mind
watching the sun in the morning
the release of that glow
mirroring this feeling
buried in here somewhere.
Time and attention,
I swear it wasn’t that long ago
you swore we’d have a place
built for our heroes. -
Standing on this platform,
I must admit,
I’m impressed by one of you
you’ve read almost every poem.
The hours inside days
I’ve been on your mind
trying to unravel
exactly why all this truly matters.
Just words,
I beg to be different
because I am in love
standing on this platform
looking back at all of you
from all over the world.
The good in all of us,
I appreciate you,
the time and attention
you’ve shown.
I wonder if,
the tables were turned
and I followed every syllable
the dedication you’ve shown
I think I could get lost
in your words too.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I wanted to say thank you for following my poems. I shared with a friend how a number you have read and liked a solid number of poems. It was suggested that I “Pen Pal” anyone that would like to talk. So let’s talk. Thank you for reading the words.
Jeffrey
dragonfly533@icloud.com -
There from the start
she’ll try anything
to find her way in the hive.
By birthright, she’s the one,
a chosen giver,
there to give us life.
She has her protectors
with one solitary thought
guard the Queen Bee.
Her private army
will swarm to protect her
sworn never to leave her side.
Against all good reason,
she longs to perform
her favorite dance.
With a normal life
keeping her crushed and busy,
there’s more to the hive
set in its darker corners.
The Queen craves time
to be alone and free
allowed to explore.
Perhaps, she’ll be the one
to forcefully guard
applying the pressure
and perform for the others.
For a single day,
maybe she could take a break
get away from us,
to enjoy the sweet flowers.
She just might dare
to move an inch forward,
it could trigger chaos
a heavy swarm for sure
I’m sure she’d look pretty.
Seriously though,
who are we kidding?
The Queen was born
to be in charge,
all coveted and protected
sharing her hive’s honey
with the rest of us
in our envious world. -
This is the start,
the spotlight hour,
let the questions be asked.
From the first until the last
let’s let answers
trigger the complicated feelings.
Want versus the need
she is here to dance
to fill our lives.
There is a depth in words
that make perfect sense
only she understands.
There are certain meanings
from underneath this light
the girl has perfect balance.
Tiptoeing or otherwise,
she has near perfect form
it’s hard to turn away from her.
Still, the future is female,
time is running quiet
she’s calm and ready
the crowd grows silent.
From the center outward
the curtains separate
lights outline her figure,
just as the music starts
the ballerina steps forward
to begin her dance. -
Perhaps today was our best moment,
in these sessions of ours,
we move without words.
Unmatched from anything before
I swear, I’ve memorized her tempo
there’s something powerful
coming from deep inside her.
what I love most
her drowning trigger memory.
The world may be changing
some run from their source
thank goodness there are some
who embrace their beauty gene.
Every thought has an outcome,
from the outside
there are sensitive surfaces.
The touch control,
something she’s taught
there’s no need for permission
there are certain places
where a hand is free to grab.
The rush in her feeling,
she begs to move in closer
I promise not to ask,
I’ll grab hold of the moment
inch up super close
whisper her trigger words.
We said we’d wait for night,
it’s no use really,
the girl and her pretty charms
a broken understanding
it’s all too much
this borrowed ache
building between us both. -
Secret January morning
I realized tonight
this might not be our year.
You asked something of me
I had not heard of before
of course I’m here to answer.
Admire the garden with me
pretend you understand my meaning.
Don’t underestimate this chance
I can easily leave things
exactly how we’d left things
long before we met up again tonight
our game board and its pieces
strewn about on an already swept floor.
I’d much rather prefer
being in some dizzying free fall
controlling the vertigo
not on my own anymore.
I can easily use time
filling out pages
in the miles of my diary
that I’ll eventually hand over
for your Royal inspection.
I just hope in the end
you’ll be there hovering
standing at the foot of my bed
telling my boys
stories about their father.
The handsome gentle side
an insecure stranger
not letting many get too close.
Play my favorite song
“How Soon is Now.” by Morrissey.
Watch me from your invisible shell
there’s something pretty about you,
this, I’ve long since accepted
the voyeuristic side.
You’ve always been safe
keeping to the shadows.
Fill your pockets with my poems,
God knows I’ve given you enough
to read for a lifetime or more.
In other words,
you’ll always have something
to fall asleep by
to figure out my meaning
My Gift to You. -
To count every lock,
every obstacle of time
one can only imagine
the time it takes
to wander aimlessly around
trying to choose the exact key.
Are our first choices
always the best to consider
or should we wait
for a different answer?
The longevity of time
seems so impossible at times
especially when a handful of years
has gone quietly by.
Each lock has its own design
the tumblers are there to protect,
certain things are meant to be kept
away from the public eye.
Until that certain someone
comes and demands the key
refuse and they’ll pick that lock
what was once sealed and protected
is soon set free in their hands.
Unguarded to the truth,
it was an easy wish to ask
if I could see her later
I can’t seem to wait
just a couple of hours
before that pent up ache
has no else to bother.
She hates to admit
my lock and key analogy
has a hint of truth
because she, has the wanting monster
buried deep in her as well.
Her box is just as equally locked
she refuses to hand over the key
not until I have love in my eyes.
Only then will she concede the truth.
Neither of us want to love,
I try and explain
this kind of way,
we choose to keep things guarded
instead of free and open
life is less complicated.
It wasn’t until
that want inside
changed our minds
by reworking our agreement,
and from behind our backs
in that instant,
we were infected.
We knew we had no other choice
the fever was too much
I could easily spend hours
memorizing all her amazing flaws.
Anchored now to this girl
I can’t seem to move
with all the doors unlocked
she has the same condition
now at the point of giving up,
count me in,
because she’s still beautiful.
She asked to insert the words
sitting deep inside
this sickness goes both ways
she stopped hiding her symptoms
up close in her secret room.
Of course we’d break protocol
never thinking we’d ever get this way
from our casual kissing
to public love making.
The truth is,
we’d freely infect the others
if they dare get too close
and try to stop this virus
we’ve been warned of the dangers,
but still,
Count me in. -
The fact is
my love is an impossible task
like a half-assed look or glance.
Oh this must of meant
I wasn’t all that interested,
when in fact, my attention is yours.
Of course, I’ll do whatever
whenever I am forced
even if that meant
I’d have to use a pair of sterile hands
to crawl on the muddied floor.
Come super close,
if you want me still,
I can exclusively promise
to be exclusively yours.
Let my words draw you in
or so someone asks
how do I feel truthfully about you?
Contrary to love’s romantic theory
there is something about
having love to be earned.
A lifetime of carrying
all your devotion around.
Perhaps this unplanned encounter
is the divine intervention
all the prayers are about.
Bless us father
for the sin is equally ours
on this, our late night hour.
-
With rarely used eyes
imperfectly perfect as they are
you’re the crowd favorite
it’s hard not to notice why
the beautiful distracted girl
always remains the same.
Standing here in front of stone
even I try not to notice,
this difficult path ahead
I casually turn and look away
today there is something special.
Beauty comes from different measures
devotion outweigh her looks,
still, she’s busy playing in my mind.
I concede I might be blind
to think I could accept her challenge.
I depend on her words
to help with my direction.
I’ve come to memorize every inch
from silence to the tone in her laugh.
Above everything else
it’s her mental strength
all of this is hard to explain
coming from this extraordinary woman.
I truly listen to her thoughts,
when there’s not much to say.
She has the firm hand of a leader,
I swear she’s an exact dance
she loves above all else
touching and playing with emotions
She will give individually if she must,
however, she prefers everyone all at once.
She’ll console you in her corner
can you see she’s in all of us
this perfect amazing woman.
-
Bad posture and miracles
it’s satisfying to finally get my turn
oh to be the narcissist
starting everything with I, Me or My.
It’s about time I fell in line
and ended things with my lover
I’m tired of thinking that
just about anything can be fixed
if given the right time and attention.
I’m about to rip my lover from my side,
inside, it’s just not working at this time.
My tough side can be the bad guy,
time is terrific now because
my memory has stopped recording.
For centuries now,
I’ve fought with myself
to come full circle
in order to turn around to see,
I still love her even more.
Around and around,
it’s been my drug-fueled addictions
keeping me locked up here.
It’s time to seize the day
it’s super quiet and I’m thinking clearly.
Maybe it’s useless to try tonight,
I can’t imagine why
I’m going to shove my lover aside,
maybe I’ll say baby,
she’ll beg me and pull me right back in,
I’m being selfish yet again.
In all honesty, I’m here because
I can’t be alone and by myself.
Maybe, instead of baby
I will not be a coward
and simply put an end
to what’s been stopping me
all along.
-
It’s been a while since we last met
that intense desire to get you undressed
we try making small talk,
it never works.
Thumbs to waist getting pants off,
jumping in an excited bed
begging to feel alive again.
Cold knees on hips, the saddle,
squeezing with your weight.
The forgotten the playlist,
hands awkwardly support
over the edge you hang
hair softly tickles
the very tips of your breast on my chest
by instinct one hand cups
the words to songs are ready.
You sit on top and stare,
softly at first of course
there was a moment
I could feel the hours in your workouts.
Toned muscles are different from before
with no time to waste
back in your upward position
all four hands explore the surfaces.
Equally pressing downward
the warmth is spread perfectly even
the hardness over satin
parted the opening.
With a feverish return
heavy are the gasps of wanting
time is no longer the stranger
the wait we’ve had to endure,
as the room is quickly devoured.
Tunnel vision with the task at hand
releases that darker side in us
with words we used to whisper
we have come alive here again tonight.
The control is truly complimented
a hard kiss to the neck
the arch of the back
a bite has left its mark.
The feeding hour upon us
a quick frenzy of darting in and out,
she’s rolled over onto all fours
anchored to accept what’s coming
heaving while pushing forward
such an intense display
the full length disappears completely
the pleasure takes all control away.
Both bodies react in different measures,
distance between the sessions fades,
the familiar release is coming
words forcefully explain.
Exact directions keep getting louder,
closer to the ear we fall
whispering is really hard
with permission granted
toes close and then they curl
a wave of explosions
taking out all support columns.
The detonation a huge success
crowds cheer as the dust rises
a heap of rubble lay under
these are our connections
just as the playlist ends.
-
I wish she never swore,
because I swear
my mood had a real need
to take a piece of her.
Both the good and bad
sit equally on both my shoulders.
Bent over and spanked,
the naughty girl
and her look begs,
looms heavily over head.
Truly, she needs forever
to make it here, next to me.
I think yesterday
when I felt with the back of my hand
her skin was feverish,
it’s what started all this again.
The pressure in her throat builds,
she drops her eyes,
taking on the perfect loom
accidentally tearing at her sleeve.
Pinning both wrists
high over head
the consequence in living means
I get to take a piece of her
whenever she asks.
Everything is always temporary,
nothing ever sticks
even her pretty side
has this unmistakable side
that’s hard for her
to simply keep it simple.
Of course her star lit control
is often misguided,
she can never blame herself
it’s always someone else.
Quick to find out why
she turns to explain her embers,
but there is something
causing her eyes to tear.
All she ever truly wanted
was to have time and attention
to be exclusively hers.
-
When we speak our truths
there are certain words we use,
words that help define and explain
who or what we are inside.
It wasn’t my intention
to get all philosophical, but love,
was something on my mind today.
Love must be at the top of my list,
it helps define my awkward attentiveness.
Love is my friend that interrupts thoughts
it wants to play and distract.
Frustrating and mad, love,
it’s my silent partner I keep to myself.
To be loved, is truly the most difficult.
It’s hard to hear someone say it.
I’ll keep working on my truths,
try to develop a better way of thinking.
My poems are my promised oaths,
they keep yesterday alive and relevant.
There is richness and depth when we love,
it means you’re important to someone else.
I care for you and I love you just the same.
Life couldn’t be more crystal clear
it’s a journey of accepted thoughts.
If love were something of value
its cost would be immeasurable.
Certainly there are other values
I could have use instead,
but I keep coming back to love.
There are no doubts.
to the path that is inherently inside of us.
Love stays awake in us all day
aware of each hour in our sleeplessness.
Love can be uncertain and frightening
it can hurt without warning.
Love is cautious and guarded.
Happy Mother’s Day
-
Love was answered
and it was torn.
There is still enough fabric though
to bring her back to life again,
because I need her now
on my better side
it’s where she naturally belongs.
Perhaps her fabric
was already damaged,
it’s too late to judge or know,
too late to be cut or sewn.
We were always in a hurry
I did my best to make sure
you had enough paper and pen
to write your love-drawn poems.
Trust when I say
that when Violet writes
it’s a special event for sure
no matter the time of day or night
because time with her
has always stood still.
This time though
she’s from a different world
where long distances
were covered in years
and not by phone.
My Royal Gypsy
I’m here to proclaim,
I lost track of time
it’s why I’m here
searching for you.
Strike down all my lapses,
for I am not afforded
such an excuse as time.
I am here to ask,
put your pen to paper again
we must share our words
for the world to judge
let them applaud or push them back.
So here you are
with an invitation or demand;
Please just blindly write
so that when it hits my eyes
I’ll spill an epic reply
and give back
more than what was taken.
~While Waiting On Violet~
The words in her beautiful lyrics
have always been her original thoughts
that are copyrighted and protected.
Still, she’s the one
who asks me to write,
as if they have some importance.
This post is our first loyal decree,
on broken knees to palms,
I have come all this way
to pray for her.
Today she may recount her love
a need to get in touch,
but just as easily
I could be dismissed
by the gentle flick
of the wrist.
I do not wonder
too far in my thoughts
waiting on Violet’s reply.
It’s neither lost nor stolen
I can see my Royal Gypsie
waiting on me
and my reply.
-
If you want to buy my attention
please bring something other than
your precious coins and wants.
If you’re going to stand alongside me,
just bring your hand.
If you plan to please and perform
make sure you take me
to that place where we first kissed.
It’s still not too late,
you can dress up and have that look.
Under a blanket of your choice
you can bring a game
and make it come to life.
The very thing that brought you here
is a secret that no one else has ever noticed
or cared to look at straight in the face.
Here you are, alone for the first time
what you will get in return from this
unselfish performance of yours?
Not only are you on the stage
there is a level of instant high respect
even if it’s just my opinion.
Accept the terms and you’ll have
all the time and attention you deserve.
Listen to the words that fill your belly
intentionally give yourself over blindly,
heap all of your love at once
up on this plate of love.
Bring your special gift to the line,
bind your wrist
tightly knitted in mine
because long before we ever jump
we’re going to agree upon the spot
exactly where we’re going to fall and land.
In the safest way of course
we’ll need to jump right now of course.
Then on the other side,
with our terms all agreed upon
both sides can take their time
producing the next great generation
an epic tragic play depicting
an all new ending to what we’ve started.
-
His arm feels
particularly numb today.
He was involved in an epic battle.
His Kingdom needed defending,
an enemy was advancing
the people needed their King.
The battlefield lay strewn,
empty with the disbelievers,
who doubted,
the royal leader would
defend all honor.
There were pools
blood left out on that hilltop,
that by all accounts,
the ground was too thick
hard to walk walk across.
Their King went out to find their flag,
he knelt down and kissed his enemy.
He released the built up hatred
left on both sides,
they were going to need to start over
without all the bloodshed.
Death had been sent away
without its most coveted prize,
at least for now.
With what’s left
the battle up on Faith Moore Hill
has long been since forgotten.
There are no more Kings
to come save the day.
-
Share your thoughts with mine,
half slacked and entwined.
I want you
it won’t matter where we sleep,
as long as we’re both there
touching skin to skin
like the last time at your house.
Looking in has always sounded nice
don’t refuse the invite,
poet are you there?
I could make you my very own
convenient excuse why I’d use you
to distract my broken mind.
I should stop wanting
because there are others
who would lift me.
I cherish the written word
because who really knows
when I’ll get the chance again
to make literary love to you
putting delicate skin on skin.
I may run out of words
long before I get the chance
to tell my publisher
I want you.
Even that stubborn voiceless side
that refuses to tell time to go away.
All over your body
I have yet to explore that one sacred place
where the pretty thoughts emerge.
Oh I swear,
I have not forgotten your words,
the hint of regret while telling me
in some ill thought of way
to busy your heart broken mind
I’m the perfect distraction.
Almost like the junk
in our childhood kitchen drawers.
My love goes out to you tonight, cheers,
here in my broken place
I swear I’m not ignoring you.
My heart begs to be the center again,
it’s a tragedy that slowly plays
spilled out on the streets
for all the others to drive by and witness.
The hero will come tomorrow
with baskets full of favorite things
to remind you what love is supposed to be.
I have a feeling you’ll dance again,
but this time when you’re on top
of an unsuspecting world
they’ll have no idea you’re somewhere else.
Never mind the things I’ve said here,
just remember if,
you truly are my poet
you’ll want again.
-
By now you have had a glass of wine,
it’s hard to image your love letters
no one actually writes anymore.
We stare at our phones,
misinterpreting text messages
trying to use fastest shortcut to express
what it is we feel.
Sometimes when you call
you can sneak away in private,
not letting anyone know
you’re stuck with these feelings.
Love is hidden in different ways,
stay quiet and keep to the line
when you should actually scream in rage.
Own the passion that is pounding
explore the pulse in your throat.
Evidently you do have feelings,
it’s important to share
your thoughtful letters with others.
Become a poet and practice
your own distinctive form.
Share your devoted worldly blog
count your longings, seductively.
Undress the naked truth in a mirror
and then slowly draw on that experience.
Until finally, you’re ready
to hand over your love drawn letters
to your one and famous lover.
-
With the newness still in the air
stopping abruptly now
is absurdly out of the question
especially since we should of seen what we missed.
Sure the security blanket failed
I’m sorry love
for being here
next to your extended arm,
down on broken knees to palms.
If only I knew
how to drag you here
we could help one another,
instead I prefer
to push you away.
You won’t have to move
or look like the fool
while standing here trying to tiptoe
whispering in my ear.
The rain falls
and falls
in these heavy sheets
and forever more
I swear I’ll push you away.
I can’t help but to notice
today might have been the last day,
yet, tomorrow rewinds and restarts
it’s just a story I remind you.
If we keep things quietly to ourselves,
no one has to understand or explain
the terms of this new contract.
Someday we’ll learn to trust
to open up and speak certain thoughts,
it’s alright for now to stay quiet and shy
reciting the perfect words to ourselves
even if it means we’ll sin first.
Turn the page and insert love
wherever it’s needed first,
surely no one would complain
if they were the first or last,
as long as they were a link in the chain
hanging from your neck.
-
The door was left unlocked
abandoned by a lover’s hand
someone has been here before
there is a hint of perfume.
The center of the middle
time chooses its own path
days become our companions,
it’s important to take chances
to work out any fears.
Words become keys
to centuries old locks,
just a gentle twist is all that’s needed
we use our hurt to fix the past
locked or undone
doubt stops all progression
just as the broken fall
we need a plan B to move on.
Choices, they matter most
it’s been a few hours now
since the door was used.
The love trials have come and gone
everything was fine until it wasn’t,
the pain was left ajar,
assume we know nothing about sorrow.
In this huge house
there are so many doors
it’s hard to imagine why
we’re most comfortable
with someone else.
Accept the secret being told,
keep it closely guarded to yourself.
Sometimes the choice is too high
the world goes quietly by
without too much interference
all the chances we’ll ever get
are here waiting on us
to step through our own
half opened door.
-
First light is coming up
in about an hour from now
the jealous sun will shine and win.
The defeated moon can go and rest
gather the strength to try again
come tonight when the sky is full
trying to mark up all the promises.
I swear when I swore a week ago
our excited faces were enough
to drown away the hurt
even now I’d turn and look up,
if it meant you’d hold hands with me.
Soon the world won’t need an excuse
to wake and start their busy tasks,
the brilliant sky will return
holding a bag full of promises to hand out.
It’s hard to turn over and ignore
the light outside your window,
just as 1/2 of the world wakes
the other half retires to a literary world
reading and listening to bedtime books.
Yesterday, there was a blood draw,
with no obvious answers, this morning
the room is spread out
in even quiet solitude.
Prayers were promised
when the sun rises
in an hour or so from now.
Fall back asleep with me,
we can ignore the sun by using
blackout shades to convince ourselves
the morning birds have lost track of time.
Lay in bed against a shadow marker
let the things in your head rest.
-
Inside the span of a day
the system was supposed to work
like clockwork and second hands.
Lifted up by that one chance meeting
it was like being tucked in a pocket.
The night has finally returned
the energy shift is all too exciting,
the trip or journey has started.
Time comes flooding back
that natural glance is looking
while drowning underneath affection.
Close enough to inhale perfume
the memory trigger just under the chin
ready for one hundred memories
fresh and impossible to ignore.
That connected forever way
it’s easy to fall and beg
from around the corner
don’t deny that certain look
nature’s controversial temperamental side
that we’re supposed to ignore.
-
The balance between dark and light
wholeheartedly lands on a knife
that deceptive edge has two sides.
One side can create perfection
the other can cause immense pain.
Our decisions to our daily choices
can have profound affects and effects both.
In order to the see good or bad in things
one must accept certain beliefs.
A gentle hand extends in both directions
there are neither hot nor cold attitudes
one must see the world
from their own perspectives.
Tip and throw over the jars
the 9 Muses must tiptoe across the floor,
a floor covered in shards.
From the large to the tiniest of pieces
the glass from jars is strewn
on an already swept floor.
There are universal temptations
that all of us share, from the taking
of a lover’s stare to the peace in prayer.
There are early writings
that blindly influence our lives,
just as a rising and falling bright globe
has trapped us to adore the sun,
most ignore the price for our admirations.
To be infamous from beyond the wall
one could speak volumes from memoirs
guided by a heavenly voice
coming allegedly from the ground.
The conduit between the light below
and the dark overhead
certainly someone has garnered our attention.
While behind the scenes of this great play
I have witnessed life,
with all of its shimmers and rewards
brought here to entice your decision
between both sides of this path
between the good and evil.
-
The valley has been quiet
weeks of calm subtle weather
the farms have been busy growing.
Come Thursdays though
under a harvest moon
the wares are picked and brought
to our heavy Farmer’s Market
it’s our weekly tradition now
rain or shine everything is up for sale.
Unless of course, you can’t afford
the price of this free admission event.
Famous sports cars with their drivers
flood this half of the city-valley,
it’s hard to see through all the exhaust,
the cars still look pretty though
headlights blind the path and trail.
The homeless with their signs, choke
on the million dollar exhaust.
The town closes 8 city blocks
so the downtown can feel like home
to host their farmer’s market.
These farmers bring their goods for us
to feel all exclusive and privileged.
The young with their eager hands
reach for every free sample there is
and the farmer with her mud stained hands
take our pristine bills by the handful.
This give and take exchange
it’s easy to see why Thursdays
are an easy way to fall into line
and buy all their fresh fruit
that only yesterday
was forbidden to eat.
-
The low lying fruit in trees
has never been easier to reach.
It’s ridiculous to think
something so easily gathered
was expected to be left alone,
please avoid the low lying fruit.
Broken sadness,
started with tiny lies
together, they blurred the lines
today it’s much too much
to avoid the low lying fruit.
That same fruit
is sold in stores today
it’s what we feed our children.
This original sin
brought to consensual lips
aches for just one more taste,
just once please.
Who’s to say,
who’s to blame
for this unforgettable request.
Forbidding the consumption
of an over abundance of fruit,
low lying or otherwise
was the worlds biggest set up.
Why not invite the strangers
to come and feast from the tree,
everyone could plant a million acres
everyone could sin together.
Down on broken knees to palms
across a field with low lying fruit
most would crawl if it meant
everyone shared the blame
allowing poor Eve
to move on with her life
and be her best self.
-
Don’t let the lights
dim and flicker away
I don’t want to be left in here
just as I’ve been given a fresh start,
lying here in the darkest of nights.
Promise me everything,
so I won’t have to worry
about leaving a light on
walking into an empty house
messes with my mind.
All I ever need,
is a simple highlighted pathway
out in front of me
so I can see around
the harmless shadowy corners.
I know I swore
these dark times,
wouldn’t have to be yours too,
just this one time, will you
promise me please
you’ll make sure there are
fresh bulbs in their sockets.
My eyes are sensitive enough
without having to worry about
my dark times
getting in the way
blocking out whatever light
my desperate eyes use to see.
Yesterday you said,
it wasn’t a problem to love
my burden and other side
was easy enough
to control and handle with life.
I didn’t want to come here
and write something
to remind you
to leave the lights on.
I honestly don’t mind
spending the nights alone,
just as long as I know
you’re coming over
to check on and make sure
there’s at least one nightlight on,
just in case I forget
to get out of bed
and turn on the lights
so I can curl up
and write.
-
The fortress is cleared
everything looks untouched, unused.
There’s not a soul around
it is like a National Holiday
everyone has gathered with families
showing their universal joy and love.
In the span of a day
a religious rebellion was triggered,
some celebrate the new coming
started a couple thousands years ago,
while others give baskets with fake grass.
The glorious temptation to give
exposed by a set of rules
on this, the ordinary day.
Come stretch your sleepy self
out on the one and only couch.
Pretend no one is around
who cares, it’s just family
surround yourself with those
who will celebrate
when you walk in a room.
Enjoy the circle
where your spirited loved ones
fill the house with laughter.
Still, there are those
who don’t have as much
as those overflowing families,
if you can, you must
invite them to the table
to taste the most amazing food
from cherished recipes
handed down and saved up
for this day and moment,
On a National Holiday.
-
From fingertips
the smoke does rise.
With heavy introspection
the cigarette kisses lips,
each new deep inhale
questions are consistently
being asked
one after the other,
and to the next.
The wrong answers fall
and lay on the ground.
In a room that is all muddy,
we start again,
the air is so hard to breathe.
Today is 100% voluntary
sitting in this chair
a deep inhale
you can hear the layers burn red hot.
With a huge exhale
the ash extends itself
hovering now just on the edge
cigarettes have long since
been dropped by friends.
Tension in the room builds,
questions keep getting harder
it’s hard to keep the answers straight
when you’re struggling
to keep the story straight.
On the edge of the chair
nerves nervously sit,
the obvious move is to keep quiet
to simply sit and do not speak.
Hands react to the news
there’s a surprise
a witness to reveal the truth
in amazing colorful detail.
It’s then that the ash falls,
the once vibrant cigarette
struggles now to burn.
Extinguished and no longer there
the lingering questions return,
the room turns in confrontation.
A bizarre mix of confidence and greed,
pupils shrink and tighten
their laser focus is sharp.
The room freezes
at a final admission,
but before we go any further
the question is asked,
“Can I bum a cigarette?”
-
There are certain words
that sit heavily in our throats,
they’re sometimes hard to speak
we get all choked up.
The syllables keep piling up,
it’s tempting to just blindly read
focus on the string
and ignore their meaning.
Go ahead and just read the poetry,
let a group of sensitive words
fall silent in admiration.
Perhaps a soliloquy of love
come and count the stars
so we could walk barefoot in the mud
and have our super real sensations.
Quiet are the footfalls,
the neon lights,
that outline our steps
in this sacred geometry of love
where the angles
must make perfect sense.
Sell your ancient beliefs,
truths that only you can defend.
Time honored and unconditional,
all of us are here to celebrate words.
We do our due diligence
some must write a blog,
others share their opinions,
the poets are simply confused
writing their broken lyrics.
Our illiterate annotations
where one person said we should use
more and more exclamations!!!!
To each is own I guess,
to the words in poems
we rhyme and express
yesterday was national Haiku day.
~
The forever touch
when we read the poetry
adds layers to life.
~
Enjoy today for what it is
these words I wish to share
and whether it is a national day
I write so
you have something to read.
-
The glorious drug
fell sharply into veins
do not flinch,
or show any signs of weakness.
Both wrists offered up,
freely tied with a cord
to a heavy 500 year old
beam overhead.
It was her turn
to reverse the Medieval curse
this castle known for torture
is now a bed and breakfast.
She climbed on top
planted her mark
and whispered
her forever words
they both agreed on.
Taking what she considers,
exclusively hers,
she put a strong hand
tightly around the throat
with the words,
“I dare you to move.”
Now circling the room
she tightened the cord
lifting shoulders
from off the bed.
This particular room
is familiar with this
kind of struggle,
where one truly gives
without giving permission.
The temperature quench
a simple cube of ice
the dripping hits
the center of the chest,
so the torture begins
as she instructs,
“Keep your eyes into mine.”
From the start of this night,
she has planned on this room
from half way around the world.
Now that she’s here,
just miles from Rome
she is empowered
to get to the truth
from a bed
in a castle.
-
Questioning fate
I quietly asked if she needed anything.
The girl is truly dependable
and to think that anyone
would come out and help,
she never questions intent.
Having had the questions asked,
she thinks to herself
the next act must come quick
not thought out and planned.
She’s sorrows sweet friend.
It’s hard to simply forget
to naturally place things
in the back of the mind.
Hesitate, and I may not wait,
such answers are gut instincts
the girl is in indecisive
in her, her answer hides.
It’s hard to imagine why
she’d ever say anything
that would jeopardize the buoyancy
of a perfectly balanced ship.
In other words,
there aren’t a set of pretty words
that will ever really save her.
Either she blindly leaps
or she’ll be pushed.
If only one could supplant her imperfections.
The truth would come out
as sorrow cannot answer.
Her mind is truly overturned.
I want you
I want her
to stay half way around the world.
Don’t plan on coming back.
This other side of the wall
has been beautifully decorated,
in fact,
it’s no barrier at all.
-
The temperature rise is a risk,
they’ll hear you coming
through walls that are
perpetually thin.
Tonight the stars will align
its time to open the doors again,
for as long as one can remember
that open door has been your truth.
That wait weighs more than words
with each new passing day
triggers force the expectation to grow
few could manage the pressure here.
For some, they have walked away
the puzzle is too much to figure out.
Right from the start
anticipation builds
in the corner of the room
there sits the sacred book
for once the answers revealed.
You’re that close, but still,
few have ever had the privilege
to conquer the steps.
Yesterday you were handed beauty
told to keep things
guarded and to yourself.
Yesterday, the apple was bit
you spoke and revealed the book
the contents secrets revealed,
is it any wonder why
you’re on the outside today.
Outside that door again,
looking inward
has never been
one of your favorable strengths.
-
Through an obvious door
the knocker has never been used,
imagine all the secrets it hides
it’s too much
not to give it a try.
It’s nightfall and desperate
the touch of a warm hand
on the cold brass
grateful for that safe feeling
the sound echoes.
Inside the cramped interior
the untouched bed and pillows
begs for time and attention.
Shoulders press against the curtains
the floor makes a sound
someone is advancing.
The tough side of your personality
shines brightly in this light,
that bad side that plays
spending time picking the outfit
that perfect compliment to skin.
In the room
on top
the walls spin
hips push and sway.
Secrets to words
negotiated and worked out,
just in time for the flush to cheeks.
Agreed to a heavy set and of commands
the fever starts at the ankles
with one twist of the clasp
it’s time to search
the four corners.
Throughout the whole night
there’s no real reason for instructions.
Play off the feeling you get
natural gut instincts
fit in this room
barely enough for two.
-
A charming old man
sits on the steps
enjoying the warm sun
with his handsome cat, Felix.
Asked if he knows
the places in town
where the tourists go
to take pictures
of famous statues?
The old man asks
“Why would you want to
go where everyone else goes?
Come with me
I have something to show you
back at my shop.”
Reluctance was absent,
between the strangers, after all
he was an old man
with his youthful days
long since passed him.
Felix let out a long meow
this was their moment to react.
Play it safe and head to the statues,
or follow an old man and his cat.
They kept pace for the most part
studying his gait, they asked,
“So we never caught your name?”
The old man answered,
as an old man would,
just under his breath.
All they really caught was
“…and Felix.”
At his shop,
in the center there stood
a 12 foot gondola
cut lengthwise in half
overflowing with books.
Their eyes were saucers,
the old man cautioned,
“Be careful of your head.”
There the three were
one had to stoop to stand
the other two just made it
bent forward, just to stand up.
His centuries old bookshop.
“This is wonderful”
both started scanning the books.
The old man with youthful eyes proclaimed,
“My father started all this
when I was a child,
back then, this is all we did.
I want to show show you something.”
He crawled underneath the gondola
through a narrow corridor
the books teetered on either side,
while showing them the way.
From behind a curtain
a heavy door locked with ancient chain.
They eyed the old man,
“We’re not going in there.”
He laughed a little,
said something, and undid the chain.
His little frame disappeared
inside the room,
the floorboards creaked
and he returned with a rolled up paper.
“My father gave me this
when I was your age
it’s a map to a hidden treasure.”
The skeptics in them
said, “yeah right.”
They nervously laughed
at the little man and his cat.
Until one of them noticed,
an old photograph
of a young man holding
what appeared to be a cat.
A cat with the same crooked tail
as Felix, half crooked and or bent.
They looked closer still,
“What the hell
That can’t be Felix?”
The old man asked,
“Or can it?”
They turned the photograph over
and in some old script it read
‘Sam & Felix.’
He handed them a photo album
Sam as a young boy,
teenager, man, father
grandfather all along
holding Felix.
Either they believe him
and accept the map
or doubt his evidence
and move on
to the statues.
To be continued…
-
Being ready is a skill
so that when you’re wanting
to swing wildly on the edge
shadows twist depending on the mood,
her curvaceous mood,
where hips do their dance.
Ask if you want,
just don’t assume
love will always be there
wanting on hand and foot
for all the time and attention
to be exclusively yours.
Remember that some,
can only love when it’s convenient.
The worst way of looking at things,
this convenient conversation
where you’re looking at the gift
square in the mouth.
You have your admirers
to fill the gaps, anyway,
so what difference does it make
if someone doesn’t want to be
all sensitive and loving
like it’s some full time job
to lose?
Appreciate the minutes,
time quickly adds up quickly
it doesn’t take some mathematician
to understand there is more than one way
to solve this equation.
Pick yourself up
drop and shatter
that mirror you depend on so.
Appreciate the loyal words
written no matter what disguise
you’re hiding underneath.
Let truth
be your full time companion,
celebrate the time you get
so the attention you give
isn’t so sharp and divisive.
-
With each new argument
the water rises,
still, you stay and fight
ignoring the advisory.
It’s not always easy
to see a way out
especially when you think
you’re on the high ground
winning every argument.
Yesterday, when you swore
you couldn’t swim
you waded even further out
and now that the water
is easily over your head
you’ve forgotten how to swim.
No one saw this coming,
and what started out
as a calm trickle of rain
it never let up.
The days rolled into weeks,
the weeks into months,
and so on.
The escape path
has been eroded away.
The waves pound the shore
tides rise high above
complicating all matters.
Sometimes the best chance
for something to work
is to just leave everything,
trust your gut instincts.
Look at the sky,
here with me,
it’s not letting up
time is running out.
Rather than stand your ground,
fight or flight,
just walk away
and learn to
swim again.
-
Simple truths
outweigh failure’s successes.
Each day that love
grows inside,
a part of you
keeps getting
more and more confident
that nothing bad
will ever happen.
Just when you
let your defenses down
and before you knew it
you’re the story
that everyone is talking about.
You never truly saw
this day coming.
Forget love,
and all its feelings
sit outside under the sun
work on that tan instead.
A tan that helps
you look all healthy
until you wake up
looking unlike
all your youthful friends.
The sun is love,
it feels so warm and energetic
a vitamin D source
coming from somewhere
we don’t fully understand.
Until one day
we’re told we’re dying,
the sun’s rays to blame.
A toxic source indeed
the worst kind of radiation.
Today you won’t care
because loving is
something we don’t think about.
Later on in life though,
when it falls apart
all diagnosed
it’s time to start
wearing a little sunscreen
avoiding the sun
avoiding love.
The temptation
is always there
feeling that good again
love-torn addiction
lying under the sun
happy to be in love
until it leaves its mark
making our skin glow
and looking
all healthy beautiful.
-
The sun refuses to shine,
even when there’s
not a cloud in the sky.
It doesn’t matter
where you move
summer is over.
Keep your guard up.
The sun is not shinning,
go ahead and stare into it
I promise,
you won’t go blind.
It’s going to be this way
from now on.
The sun refuses
to share like it used to
kissing our shoulders
with golden tans.
You better get used to it,
a world void of any color.
Everyone is the same.
I hope you’re happy
and proud of yourself
you caused this,
the temperamental sun
taking everything away
that it ever promised.
It may take
a thousand years
for any of us
to feel the sun again
now that it
has gone blind
and refuses to shine.
-
You are onto something
having found the poems,
day after day simply releasing words.
Lyrics to songs, that some may never get.
Thankful, for you the reader,
you always find the time
at all hours of the day or night
to come and spend your time.
You read every word, and it’s like
being a part of your daily routine.
Every time something is published here
people virtually gather and judge
the weight of the offered words.
There are regular usernames
that are regularly recognized
each time something is said to the group.
Waiting an entire life
to share important words
fulfilling a promise made
to simply share.
There are a thousand different ways
to turn time’s attention back onto itself.
Heavy are the words
in one-sided conversations,
it’s neither good nor bad
to come here and read.
Thankful for the promise to write.
“We’re going to have poetry in our lives.”
Leave something behind,
breadcrumbs of self reflection
helping find the way.
There are all kinds of people
reading the words here,
that are shoved loosely in a bag.
It doesn’t matter if,
the stories come like clockwork,
just as long as we write
giving the readers
a reason for coming back.
If everything aligns
we create a routine,
we’re all a part of the wheel,
if that makes any sense?
Some paint with pictures
you created that golden leaf,
or scribbled figures
keep sharing with us.
If we search long enough
parts and pieces of our world
will come together and align.
Up and down the structured memories
we give up our stories
so we can keep busy
reading about each other.
Thank you.
Promise, to keep writing,
giving back just as much time,
as we spend reading each other’s poems.
We’re thankful for you
the reader.
-
It’s hard to describe the blindness
when you’re trapped with an idea
that has been years in the making.
My voiceless need sits inside my head.
Yesterday started out as an accident,
a chance encounter really.
Imagine being instantly transported
to a tiny French village where everything
requires an uphill climb.
Romance is the desired condition
hundreds of years ago
the smell of perfume was new.
The memory in scent is a trigger
as a massive reaction from a few drops.
The bathtub sits wedged in a room
perfect for two,
water tinted from an ancient source,
just one tiny candle
nothing but our voices
reading and planning our days.
The journey is our marker
we lay quietly
in those tiny beds
bodies are constantly touching.
We stay up late kissing the moon,
letting hungry mouths feed.
Each new day holds a surprise
exploring this ancient world
come tomorrow at the parfumerie
I promise to take your hand
and whisper a promise
there in the source
where memories are made.
-
There is this type of control
I feel coming on strongly
not from my hands,
but in waves of thought.
I expect things of myself
and that carries through
to everyone in my space.
Acoustic sounds
are what I feel
when I hear your voice,
your laugh and shy look.
The sound you make
is pure and pretty
and that’s why I try to listen
to you more than I speak.
Each time you find time
to love me
the freedom and energy
comes in waves.
I saw you walking today,
your hair looked shorter
and I couldn’t help myself
to replay the video you sent
laughing at yourself.
It’s true,
you only call on me
when you need someone to love.
I’m the first to be thought of
and it’s not like I’m complaining
about being thought of
especially when you need to love.
Yesterday, I promised,
that was two days ago
and already
time is slipping again
from all the loud chaotic sounds.
You’re miles away from me
sending photographs
convincing me to stay.
In the quiet
solitude of my heart
I can hear no one but you
in that acoustic voice.
Do you plan on
loving me like this
your entire life?
-
With mouths loosely whispering words,
a grammar fire can easily take hold.
I warned you about our conversations,
so out of control, its best to escape them.
I like your clean, yet cluttered room.
I love when I can smell my cologne on you.
Yesterday, you wanted to make love
you invited me to come and lay down,
shoulder to shoulder. I told you
we were doing something different.
Boy to boy or girl to girl it doesn’t matter
this kind of fever burns in everyone.
Especially when we use our sensual words,
the ones we usually keep all locked up.
There are those 100 year fires,
we seem start every time we’re together.
We can consider ourselves,
“Fucking arsonists.”
Having burnt up so much in your bed.
I bit your tongue,
to stop the words
from coming out. It’s no wonder
we’ve left nothing for the others to enjoy.
I love you, being inside me.
Me sleeping inside you and yours.
With arms wrapped around a hose
trying desperately to fight a fire
it’s obviously been out of control
for a while now. It’s too bad
we left this mess of ours,
all these dreadful ashes in everything.
I just want to lay with you again,
in your bed that used to be clean.
I wonder if we knocked it off,
that after a while the fires would
put themselves out.
We could stop and read each other books
giving everything time to heal
so things could start to grow back.
When I see you tonight
feel free to kiss my face, but please
don’t use our private set of words.
Well, it’s one word really,
that starts the fucking blaze
that will easily burn
out of control again.
-
Locked in a temperamental room
he glances to inspect the walls,
just as the ceilings start closing in.
It’s never comfortable
being told there is nowhere to go,
just as you’re standing there
sadly, the floor is ripped away.
Void of all his safety nets,
he has only had himself to depend on
and it’s never been a safe place.
Important to keep the screams to himself,
the streets are his only real redemption,
if only he could escape right now.
In the opinion of his inspectors,
the so-called doctors try and fix him
by doctoring away his only chance.
He begs for someone to trust in him,
swearing, he can take care of himself,
no one can believe in him anymore
with too many let downs and setbacks
to count in one lifetime.
He begs and pleads for his release
and the louder her pleads
the further away their deafness grows.
They hold all the cards to his freedom,
the problem is time, and all the influences.
It would be easy to slip up and lose him,
the doctors have tried to limit his access
he is still someone’s son albeit lost.
Maybe the solution is to simply release him
let him drift back to his delusional world,
after all, it’s the only real place
that makes perfect sense to him.
We could force him to conform
to learn all our rules again,
but by then though,
we would no longer
recognize him.
-
With a tray of colored inks
tonight she’ll be customized
kneeling to a heavy brush
the torture plays in her mind.
The deepest red and orange to shoulders,
cupped and swirling down her body
highlighting her accentuated curves.
The girl knows she’s pretty,
even with all the obvious flaws.
The cold ink crawls down her spine,
she stiffens and holds her place exactly.
The art that beauty makes,
she turns in her visual space
held in a clever night of painting.
The sharing goes back and forth
between the eye of the painter
and the naked canvassed body.
Edible are the colors
that now stain our mouths,
we’re equally as hungry to bite.
With her painting done head to toe
she’s carefully brought to the best part.
To the cleansing tub,
mesmerized as the water trickles down
the colors mix and bleed together
swirling down and around her feet.
Beauty, and her drawn perfection
slowly begin to fade, she’s returning
with the colors put away
standing here in front of the artist.
The towel wrapped girl cannot wait
to be painted again
and then surrender.
-
Today the sun is faint
its pulse weak from yesterday
it was altogether too much
too soon to share its full strength.
Today the skies have closed,
asking us to go inside
to find our own source of warmth.
Perhaps the Gods
are merely playing with us,
forget Spring and all her flowers.
In equal measure
the dark is a perfect companion
for our temperamental sun.
With the depth of darkness,
just a few short hours away
in the quiet cold stillness
there are dangers lurking
begging some to step outside,
I beg you hideaway with me
bury yourself underneath
the warm and weighted blankets.
Curled up with a set of words
it’s easy to fall into another place
hurry before the sun rises
taking away all our secrets.
Come tomorrow
it’s supposed to rain
and if that’s truly the case
I invite you to lay in bed
binge watch until things settle
the sun is shinning
the flowers are photographed again
and the darkness
is something we sleep through.
-
With a request to order more
I find it peculiar that I’m the one,
chosen to buy the girl her clothes.
Perhaps My tastes are attractive,
certainly, certain things, catch my eye
and she’d look amazing always.
It is not about the money or buying
we share everything in equal measure.
It could be that I have more time,
obviously more than she does or
she simply prefers my attention to detail.
I swear, I would make the biggest deal
out of something she bought on her own,
so it’s not about being controlling.
Maybe it’s the surprise in not knowing
the next outfit to be revealed.
Come to think of it
I rarely get gifts of my own,
fuck, I’m an enabler.
That’s it, she’s buying her own.
No more romanticizing about purchases,
from now on I will
consider such requests as unfair
and a chore that is useless.
I understand this is not the norm,
this picking out of her clothes,
but honestly, there is this gut feeling
when you find that one blessed item,
heavily marked down next to nothing.
Extreme satisfaction washes over you
we’ve all said it,
“Can you believe how much?”
Maybe one last purchase for the girl,
who expects me to do her shopping.
Throughout this entire poem
I never mentioned the one thing
she asked me to go get and find…
New panties. Mind you,
there is one issue to consider
comfort versus style, am I right?
She’s not a fan of the thong
or the string riding up her bottom,
but her favorites are boy-cut or
bikini-low rise hipster.
On one hand adorable and not
perhaps, she has another plan
always asking me to look.
So one last time I’ll go and shop,
it’s been an hour since she asked
if I wouldn’t mind getting her favorite
Calvin Klein panties
the ones I found in black,
as she lifts her skirt
to show me her hip.
-
Under the California sun
in your stereotypical tiny beach town
the sun is seriously baking shoulders.
I was struck by the loss and loathing
of a girl that is to blind to see
that her true love has moved on without her.
She’s not lonely,
nor would we consider her all that lost.
She’s the type of girl that loves profoundly,
throwing her whole self onto the fire.
When the temperature is hot and burning,
she’s alive with this amazing desire.
You did not see, how important it was
to be honest when you said you loved her
because now she’s tattooed
with your words, forever inked.
Remember when you promised
how much she meant and then lied,
she’s not capable of moving forward.
She’s stuck in a world,
that all she does is write.
I want to scream at the girl
and push her into the cave
until she can break from her chains.
I’m referring to Plato’s Allegory of the Cave.
Spring forward to today and sit with me
underneath this California sunshine.
The surf is just feet away, it’s free,
take as much as you want.
I know that none of this matters
especially now that you’ve posted again.
The love drawn battle isn’t between
the love you lost, but rather
the love you refuse to see between us,
the love that has
always mattered most
as I read every word
in every post.
-
With the belief it’s important to stay
organized when our lives get all hectic.
I’m in bed with the girl poking fun
at her need to keep lists.
Half naked here in my arms,
she’s poking me because of my words.
The irony that I make such a big deal
about all her notes and goals,
when I’m the one chronicling all the details
from one day to the next and so on.
It’s my personal belief that
this girl keeps lists as memory triggers,
she knows better than being my boss
after all, I’m the poet who
records her every move.
I’m buried with all these things to do,
my finish work, she calls it exactly right.
I’m lying here with a beautiful girl,
she encourages me to try and keep writing.
Disappearing underneath the sheets,
comforter and pillows.
The girl with the flawless memory
keeps a score between us, she wants me
to try and keep up with her.
Who’s to say that keeping lists
is necessarily a better way to stay on task?
She’s reaches her intended target,
I’m erect and paying close attention,
as she starts naming off
all the pretty things between us both.
I promise to be faithful to her lists,
if it means I get this kind of attention
in exact detail, I’ll make her proud
showing all the others how it feels
to have this one highly driven girl
kneeling against my temperamental side
after all, I’m the poet, in charge of words.
It’s early Sunday morning
and I’ve hidden all the paper in the house,
she’s just going need to be verbal
like in the animal prehistoric days
the oral tradition, using her quick mouth
to slowly speak the story to life.
Giving exact detail, highlighting
all the exciting facts until climax.
I swallow hard trying to listen,
while watching each syllable
expressed from her throat, it’s such
a turn on watching her
explain why her lists
are her way
of remembering
what I like.
-
My advice, whenever you play with words,
understand there is a weight thrown.
And maybe your vision is such
that the message is a little anemic
for one to survive on.
Those big and lofty words of yours,
most typically get lost because
the story that you want us to feel
is truly impossible for us to absorb.
Unless of course, you’re all mythical
in that character realm where
translucent waves peek in and
metaphorically touch us all.
In my case, and with all these words
I promised a friend with a diagnosis
that she’d have dragonfly Poetry
to help her lose,
track of time. Just in case
I created this fictional girl of love
one that is blended from
all the experiences in my life.
The trick in this
little craft of ours
is to stay true to our words.
Simply look up at the sky
and tell us how
it moves the love you hold inside.
Beautiful you, the diagnosed one
we spoke last night
and just because
you’re tired and have no real appetite,
it doesn’t mean,
you’re allowed to skip a meal.
I promised you
all My words,
as long as you
promised me
you would fight.
-
Clear sky and yearning
the morning lifts with stillness,
she quietly sits sipping tea
a cup that is still near boiling.
I’ve never understood
why she likes the tea extra hot.
Sitting at a big picture window
hugging knees while barely sipping
the view compliments her mood.
The toaster clicks
an egg is taken from water
cracked and put in a bowl
her regimented breakfast.
Her morning routines
are exactly the same everyday.
To her room,
she’s half dressed
and undressed at the same time.
There are fresh tattoos
a tone set of muscles
she turns the shower on.
She goes around
to collect her little bundle.
Walking past me completely naked,
her silhouette of amazing curves
the shower door clicks
her room fills with steam.
Her shower takes several minutes.
The one towel twisted
around the top of her head
she walks into her closet
her favorite boy-cut panties
and push up bra.
She’s slowly coming together,
slipping back into the bathroom
sitting at her favorite mirror
magnifying her favorite feature
her classic face.
She carefully applies her makeup.
The hard and soft tones
are blended and brushed
to create a soft glittery look.
Highlighted hair lightly dried,
it is fastened and clipped.
Here’s the best part,
that moment when she’s ready and set
in her stiletto heels
she has absolute perfect balance,
she steps into her skirt and blouse.
Her look almost perfected
she gathers all the accessories
she walks across the house
putting each individual piece on
her quick steps echo on wooden floors.
The last and final step
the temperamental spray of
hairspray and perfume.
All set and gathered
the smell of minty toothpaste
she stands and waits for a kiss.
It’s this way each and every morning.
In her car, letting it warm up
she applies a shiny gloss of red lipstick.
She winks and waves,
blowing a kiss
keeping an eye
in her rearview mirror
as she drives away
on the way to a business
she owns.
-
She has always been so handsome,
impure in some respects
being this beautiful.
The girl and her magic charms
caught in her web of love
her long eye lashes, sexy
and it’s easy lying with her
in her newly decorated room
where it smells like fresh-cut flowers.
On elbows, looking into eyes
the girl undresses the mood
she inches closer to ask,
do you want to kiss and remember?
Colorful ringlets,
she whispers her favorite song
those words dance around the room
softly spinning from vertigo.
Lips lightly trace, never really touching
just sharing the one same breath
there’s a hint of berry lipgloss and mint.
The glowing sun
cuts through her glowing room,
beautiful you, she says looking up.
A scent of lavender,
she’s partially in love
with her feel good spirited love
she wants to learn
to give more of herself.
Rolling in the twisted sheets
the sun dips and the room goes dark.
She lights a series of candles,
and then waits for the wax
to catch up to her mood.
Tiny opulence seems easy and relaxed,
lying shoulder to shoulder
outstretched and tied to the corners
the girl swears she’s a sweet treasure
as long as you can trust her.
-
Someone loved you
without ever truly believing
they gave their word,
they’d love in return.
You’re making a new record,
tonight you fell asleep in his arms
and the look on your face
I couldn’t really see,
so I stayed.
Maybe come tomorrow
we could unpack and start all over?
I’m the one who cherishes time,
and in all honesty, I swear
I just want your hand in mine.
The fit of your body
it’s 4am and even I know
a certain change will come
and then we’ll be blended perfectly.
Until then though,
I’d be perfectly happy knowing
you’d be thrilled to be in my pocket,
obviously I’ve always made room for you.
I’ll give in and surrender to your words.
Promise me you’ll move closer love,
the world is too dangerous
to think I could go out there on my own
and think I’d find another us.
Whispering to the backs of hands,
life balances even as I lean
from right to left.
The distance between us
can be conquered with one square look.
Wrists very lightly tied,
you insist I find a choker necklace
for that constant pressure,
every time you swallow
you’ll feel the clasp dig in.
Pressed firmly against the skin
I want you that close to me,
so I can feel what is missing.
I just want to love you
sitting outside sipping on a bottle,
the both of us getting a little drunk,
we’ll turn over and kiss even harder
until we’ve lost track of the hour.
If you have a moment
naturally, that’s how much
you move me from one place
to somewhere completely different.
What I want the most though
is something you already know
without the use of all these words.
I tend to get in the way
impatiently waiting, but
waiting none the less,
just hurry love
I want the next
dance with you.
We could spin
under a full belly of stars
out in a freshly cut field
staining hungry hands
I want to feel you
hips sway slowly
it’s so pretty
watching.
-
Underweight, my words
seem a little anemic
when compared to the bloated world
that surrounds me here.
I feel the temperature in my throat
it’s almost time to take you
to that sacred place.
Retreat with me
I’ll keep your head afloat
slightly above the rim.
I won’t let you drown
under the weight of expectation.
I’ll simply ask for your arm
a stable place to hold onto
while we carry on whispering
our favorite words in songs, lyrics.
Together we’ll explore
the glorious drug of love
this time though it will be outside
in nature for everyone to see.
Those heavy drawn-out kisses
are perfectly obnoxious
others will turn away
I’ll rake against your skin
leaving possession marks.
After a while,
people will forget,
and begin to ignore us, besides
the music would be too loud.
It’s probably the sunshine here,
this euphoria from the bluest sky
the seasons have promised to come,
and they’ve arrived alongside you
with a burst of beauty.
The transition from the cold and dreary
to the warm luscious growth
filled with the scent of mating.
Everything has one real goal
here with exact timing.
Let’s go outside and join them
the insertion of pollen on body parts
weighing our travel down.
Getting inside and between the petals
the love-sick drive of the flower
a single stigma draws us closely in,
heavy with desire, this dance
the anther explodes and deposits
the brilliant yellow pollen.
We take that experience
and carry it to the next, and so on.
We can go from flowerbed to flowerbed
help to pollinate the exploding acre
until the next seasonal change.
-
Tomorrow I’m coming back,
because even I know,
being gone this long
has forced the sky speak up.
Words come from our single source,
when I finally looked up
I saw her waiting there for me.
And I swear she swore,
she hasn’t been able to sleep
for years now, and even I knew
her tired condition was my fault.
The second we touched,
it recharge that playlist of hers
causing sparks to discharge
from words in songs.
Our initial agreement worked,
up until it didn’t because
we couldn’t stand
being gone for so long.
She was supposed to get some rest
simply close her eyes
like she used to when we slept together.
Today, the need has grown in her
and whenever the skies begin to turn
she opens up about
being tired of waiting for me.
She wants that downpour
to help put her to sleep.
She’s tried for years now,
to ignore both needs and wants
the price has been too high to pay
in order to break all her promises
so she’s kept quiet, until now.
Eyes can never be filled enough
to simply move on,
and even I don’t mind admitting
it’s been my fault
needing her in all my words.
Time has been the key to all of this,
her words touch me in a certain way
that not even those around me
can understand why I’d need her.
Clearly, she stares just long enough
making sure I’m coming back
with my same feverish lust for her.
When we mix and entwine together
her eyes can finally close
long enough to actually dream
it’s all she’s ever truly wanted,
while waiting for me.
Dragonfly Poetry 