SexAnd what of him were a WillowTall and strong in December snowWeeping single leaves from his armsLike despensable and petty charms.Though I admire, such it isThat I, in truth, cannot be hisWhen wreckless youth meets futile heartThe disaters are heedy with Bullet and DartAnd yes, I know better than to smile at youAnd submit a vortex if my greatest love, imbuedWith every word and movement that therefore could conveyHow I long to long for you, but simply cannot obey.So to saddle myself in sad preparationI bolt steadfast from any temptationAnd walk miles simply to avoid where you standBecause I cannot love you with a heart that is damned.
Those Who Pose InsignificanceI am the burning white solace in the melancholic shadowthe weeping beauty of a eulegy.I am the cool hand that sweeps past your cheekthe sweet breath stirring silently.I am the butterfly clinging anxiously to the window paynethe golden bells of ancient towers yawning out your name...I am the swift footsteps beside youthe honest flower of poise.I am the pride that blossoms over your movementsthe mouth that smiles wildly for your voice.I am the vague thought that swells with the daythe pale moon that watches, but cannot stay...I am the faint scent that you never forgetthe bird that flounders there above.I am the ear unfolded to your heart beatsI am the one you cannot love.
Waves Receded With Her SighsYou are partial to a sunsetBut I shall sit 'til nightThat you might once look upAnd bear me in your sightHither come exhausted wavesSliding unto shoreReaching for a castleThat crumbles easily to the roar.Pray I, as you slumberWith the book a'shield your eyesThat you would wake to witnessMy love stretching in your skies.And as you lean back on your armsSeeping into the sand behindI wish as you speak of every tiding beautyThat you would once speak of mine.
Black: the Skyline of Her EyesCould lust truly doSuch damage to a girlWhen you hold the daggerAnd she holds you as the world?
Mid-October SkiesIn the envy of mid-October skiesAn autumn leaf crumbles up and dies.With one calm breath of the cooling dayIt is summoned to be swept away.Cower nowAt the sudden graveWhere you lay a flower for the time you gave.And where you once stoodWith most eloquent graceAnother creeps upTo take your place.
The RetributionArrows strike the dirt about your feetWho holds the Bow to you now?English pistols signal retreatTruce among men proves an empty vow.Hands gash outFor all they can takeAnd years from nowIt will be cordially rendered a mistake.The genocide of a tribeThe loss of a culture and a life-Will be commemorated by the museum framingOf the blood on your Queen's knife.Marched unto their deathPast that Red, White & BlueYou will confess with your last breathOf just what they were reduced to.So let the truth unfoldForevermoreThat they smiled boldWhen you screamed "WAR."
To Pry the Ax From My HandsAbout the globeFrom sea to seaI shine with mediocrity.Through and throughMy life's despairA melody races by light and air.Gasping deeply intoLungs so soarA pain unerves you, evermore.In the ambienceOf love and hatePiano keys perpetuate.A voice ignitesTo tell a taleOf a girl so young and a breath so frail.Nevermind the cutsYou left my healthI'll swear I did it to myself.With breath held steadyAnd eyes shut tightI'll pretend to slumber through the night.Sweating anxiouslyInside a bedI'll shake the demons from my head.But once they askI must scream outWhat untrue love is truly about.How may it bite and brandWith one sweet touchA happiness that hurts so much.The scrapes and bruisesAgainst the kneesFrom pleading with god to take that disease.And pillows soakedWith the torment of tearsAn accumulation of a few daunting years.No matter howThat sonnet endsYou never feel the same again...About the statesFrom coast to coastI function nearly comatose.To an
The Woman Never ForgetsFootsteps dragging up the stairs.Curtains whirling softly in the late breeze.A key fumbling in the doorknob.Walls shadow-puppeted by tall, suspicious trees.The warm hand resting on her shoulder.The cold dinner asleep in the table.His bare feet paddling across the glacier tile.Her gentle fingers stirring the sugar ladle.The tie lossened from the neck.That coffee cup sitting alone in the sink.A glare waiting across the pitch black room.The words blurted before you can think.The children breathing deeply in their dreams.An unpatient clock wondering where you've been.Two ominous crescents below her exhausted eyes.An empty bed waiting since half past ten.The alcohol fuming from your breath.That toxic stumble in your steps.The wife will forgive you every morning...But the woman never forgets.
Maybeline EyesSorrow is a mistress's crutchWhen it's all she has to loose.Women long to be touched -Even when it leaves a bruise.Well when things start to changeYou will knaw those chains right off your handsAnd when everything starts to changeNo longer will you cater to their demands.How many slaps in the faceAnd punches will you takeBefore you stand up and say"Gentlemen, this has all been a mistake"?How many years will the young girls watchAs you slave away to feed a snakeAnd lay as a doormatFor his big goddamn break.And god, I'm no feminist, liberalist, activistBut, darling, I see a problemWhen he clentches up his fist...Well when things start to changeYour daughters will step up to the prizeAnd when things start to changeNew independence will stream their Maybeline eyesWhen things start to changeThey will not be barred by race or sex or ageMy love, when everything starts to changeThe bird will come a'whirling from her cage.