Sunday, October 30, 2011
Thoughts of a Lonely Soul
what if i took this asterix portion,
would the goul in me out come,
and what if it came,
would these my shaky knees hold?
and what if to hold they could,
and i to her pose conquered position went,
would my mouth a word utter,
or would it bubble in a drowning mans' screams?
would i be in gritting teeth,
or in flesh that a cloud of sweat be?
and say none of that a happening did,
all a butter glide,
would she frown or a jerk brand i?
would she from my weather beaten,
toe parading,
shark turned shoes a glance escalate,
to my had-tried unkempt hair,
in pissed up judgemental a thoughts?
or would she of pity be?
would she a chit back chat,
or would anger reign?
oh!
would she say in all-went-well moments,
days later this my ragged face any familiriaty bring?
or in assumption hanging left?
what if in all ways tried,
and never in a single sunset,
a reason to hate gave,
would i her list of friends into make?
and say more than a friend became,
to dinners ate in marvin gaye melodies,
and stars watched from a neighbours roof,
would it a more than a calendar last,
or would it a NO be?
wars of class faught?
if i did try would she?
thoughts of a lonely soul never answered,
always a dreamer ...
©2011
would the goul in me out come,
and what if it came,
would these my shaky knees hold?
and what if to hold they could,
and i to her pose conquered position went,
would my mouth a word utter,
or would it bubble in a drowning mans' screams?
would i be in gritting teeth,
or in flesh that a cloud of sweat be?
and say none of that a happening did,
all a butter glide,
would she frown or a jerk brand i?
would she from my weather beaten,
toe parading,
shark turned shoes a glance escalate,
to my had-tried unkempt hair,
in pissed up judgemental a thoughts?
or would she of pity be?
would she a chit back chat,
or would anger reign?
oh!
would she say in all-went-well moments,
days later this my ragged face any familiriaty bring?
or in assumption hanging left?
what if in all ways tried,
and never in a single sunset,
a reason to hate gave,
would i her list of friends into make?
and say more than a friend became,
to dinners ate in marvin gaye melodies,
and stars watched from a neighbours roof,
would it a more than a calendar last,
or would it a NO be?
wars of class faught?
if i did try would she?
thoughts of a lonely soul never answered,
always a dreamer ...
©2011
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Rich Girl , Poor Boy
she wakes from velvets and cottons,
dresses in around the world known creations,
from shelves picked,
all to fill her wants,
she dines among kings,
served in silver wares,
by men and women,
her taste always a prioty,
never long a distance does she walk,
a guard to her assigned,
everywhere a guardian to follow,
from this her palatial dwelling,
to wherever her mind guides,
be in the broadness of day,
or the thin dark of night,
the 'chiefs' daughter they say...
he wakes from torn boxes,
many he worked hard to get,
cold,
and a stomach that won't seize the rumbling,
no one to fed for him,
but the solo creature that he be,
a glass of water drunk in faith,
he gets into tatters,
through many tailors have passed,
in a prayer he leaves the rusty tins that him shelter,
a heart filled with hope,
that these golden rays that the air pierce,
a consolation shall bring,
a fatherless son,
a mother long gone,
a poor boy...
many a times they have met,
with each a meeting a radiant in his eyes seen,
and she admiration of him always betraying,
his pains she knows,
forced a meal for him to steal,
time to time,
a sneaky affairs unknown,
them together is a sin,
to be known in a tragedy shall end,
and curses in anger made,
secrecy,
their only true friend...
tonight be their night,
a plan that for long been created,
revised,
and rehearsed,
so they sit awaiting the moons tip,
on the first wink to act,
through those clear waters to run,
shackles broken,
a freedom each in their way to taste,
anticipation,
©2011
dresses in around the world known creations,
from shelves picked,
all to fill her wants,
she dines among kings,
served in silver wares,
by men and women,
her taste always a prioty,
never long a distance does she walk,
a guard to her assigned,
everywhere a guardian to follow,
from this her palatial dwelling,
to wherever her mind guides,
be in the broadness of day,
or the thin dark of night,
the 'chiefs' daughter they say...
he wakes from torn boxes,
many he worked hard to get,
cold,
and a stomach that won't seize the rumbling,
no one to fed for him,
but the solo creature that he be,
a glass of water drunk in faith,
he gets into tatters,
through many tailors have passed,
in a prayer he leaves the rusty tins that him shelter,
a heart filled with hope,
that these golden rays that the air pierce,
a consolation shall bring,
a fatherless son,
a mother long gone,
a poor boy...
many a times they have met,
with each a meeting a radiant in his eyes seen,
and she admiration of him always betraying,
his pains she knows,
forced a meal for him to steal,
time to time,
a sneaky affairs unknown,
them together is a sin,
to be known in a tragedy shall end,
and curses in anger made,
secrecy,
their only true friend...
tonight be their night,
a plan that for long been created,
revised,
and rehearsed,
so they sit awaiting the moons tip,
on the first wink to act,
through those clear waters to run,
shackles broken,
a freedom each in their way to taste,
anticipation,
©2011
Monday, October 24, 2011
Last Whisper
call her angelic,
say perfect she be,
this beauty,
below nightly heavens,
my breath does snatch,
in mangled thoughts they term her a rose,
red,
pink,
yellow maybe,
in that light skin,
and sweet,
flowing,
a natural hairs,
but pity be unto me,
that but her potraits admire,
in the coldness of a dying october moonlight,
left her images to stars a comparison,
least of mine a misery,
this,a queen,
in my world i would want to have,
wishes of fairy ends,
yet would such the comfort of tiles,
and fortified walls leave?
the warmth of foam,
and smooth silk forfeit?
to be a guest of cold and mites,
that be my tin world hosts?
would she dine on greens or a white mould?
'no sonny!
such to royalty and nobility belong,
while you to beggers and sufferers,
do belong,
be it your poor heart you need tear,
then, you to hopelessness hold,
and shed nothing while to the isle she takes,
in a knot to a noble be tied,
for not even the patched pants you shall be in,
on that last chapel seat,
a pity on you have'
but that be just a voice,
of hidden fears...
for the lady,of whom this i write,
holds the last a whisper..
©2011
say perfect she be,
this beauty,
below nightly heavens,
my breath does snatch,
in mangled thoughts they term her a rose,
red,
pink,
yellow maybe,
in that light skin,
and sweet,
flowing,
a natural hairs,
but pity be unto me,
that but her potraits admire,
in the coldness of a dying october moonlight,
left her images to stars a comparison,
least of mine a misery,
this,a queen,
in my world i would want to have,
wishes of fairy ends,
yet would such the comfort of tiles,
and fortified walls leave?
the warmth of foam,
and smooth silk forfeit?
to be a guest of cold and mites,
that be my tin world hosts?
would she dine on greens or a white mould?
'no sonny!
such to royalty and nobility belong,
while you to beggers and sufferers,
do belong,
be it your poor heart you need tear,
then, you to hopelessness hold,
and shed nothing while to the isle she takes,
in a knot to a noble be tied,
for not even the patched pants you shall be in,
on that last chapel seat,
a pity on you have'
but that be just a voice,
of hidden fears...
for the lady,of whom this i write,
holds the last a whisper..
©2011
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