Thursday, October 29, 2009

There's No Consolation Like Coffee

your eyes cast down
I put my fingers to your chin
and as deep you sighed
breathed your anxiety in
and though all inside
pent-up could not be still
your despair still faced
my embrace's steadfast will

I held you in silence
consoling words not needed
and just let my hug
of understanding speak it
I know, I know
I whispered soft to you
it's taxing at times
what life seems let accrue

at least if nothing left
you'll never cease have me
and for your happiness
and smile my strive'll always be
and at that what was left
other than cups of coffee
and a couple of cigarettes
and not let be forgot it

a heavy slice of warm
sticky date pudding with cream
exactly the way I allocate
you and I my favourite dream
where you and I remain
and we stay young and handsome
and tip our heads back together
keeping life's best at ransom

Sunday, October 18, 2009

The Ash Of Your Passion

all the cigarettes;
conduits on your balcony
and sipping tea with them,
gently you immerse me
in ash of your passion,
soft so I can't dust
and fleeing inhibitions
falling under lust

it's warm the blanket of
your legs seated on mine
hours escape though we're
so aware the time
but still awake with you's
more the kind of dream
I live to stay up for
and rather let the moon sleep

there's a peace and calm
in our love's dessert
a little piece of cake
we take like we deserve
a moment of luxury
some would say heart's cosset
a content that gushes from
hope's wide open faucet

when finally we retire
to each other's arms
and disarmed from the day
awake's the only harm
the calm that settles from
your final look at me
is a lullaby that I
close my eyes at to see

and it's so sublime
to rise next to your lips
to be met by your
affection's purt morning kiss
I smile with an ardence
that awaits be benighted
and you just stare right back
locked eyes at me in silence

The Punish Of Wonder

I punish myself for wondering what is
and contemplating my once disposition
as if in hindsight I might find that I
rightly decided with a mind of non-fiction

but my hindsight only arouses a doubt
that I've sacrificed my foresight desire
I'm persuaded now that I made a mistake
my mind's tired in its fighting to respire

I let my lungs be scarred by soot and tar
and my throat scored and broken by smoke
if to just be able to only rasp your name
the most I deserve, as consequence, to hope

it's like my dying lungs took my breath
and wrung all the life I'd left to give
as I felt you with tears in my eyes disappear
and realised to be near you's to live

can I say I'm sorry for the road I made
for myself, well not with entire remorse
but truth's I regret the chance I'll never get
to know any but the now chosen course

clear to me like the grey plume my abode
is love's known only as found when lost
you can draw any conclusion but the evident truth is
that it's never knowing: the sonorous cost

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

It Takes Time To Take A Picture

when I was growing up I took a photo
and hoped it captured what it meant to be young
I found it long after, buried away
and I remembered what, when old, I'd wished I'd done
I looked at the picture long and hard
and admired the content, perhaps naivety, on my face
I could see the thoughts and dreams
in my discerning, romantic eyes of fortitude on display
I sighed at the sight of the love
next to me in the picture, whom at my expression was aimed
and cried a couple of tears
for the innocence time and memory from me eventually claimed

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

You Subscribe To Lies Before You Die

I wish I knew who I am
as discontent is all I conclude
I wish I knew where to aim
when impossibilities my only truth

if I had an Allison
maybe then I could bellow
my aim is true like Elvis
to my other world tortured fellow

to the one by my side
I always smile to hide distaste
of myself and conceal the evidence
of seeking self-knowledge that I hate

am I quickened in my youth
to wise on all that normally takes
a person fifty years or more
to understand what time instigates?

I'm lead believe when I'm
at that fifty years of life
I'll be so spent on the truth
that I'll turn to their youth of lies

just to die feeling as though
I'm at peace for nothing to resolve
is my future set by my present
with only naivety to absolve?

to turn from contemplation
to idealism to finally demise
is my view so now realistically acute
that to fiction I'll let my mind subscribe?

other people waiting

we're not strangers anymore