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The Moment Reality Returns

I was blessed by the arrow of my compass,
pointing towards a heart due north,
a serenade of a love’s true blossum
kissing me with a touch similar to that of lilacs
shedding their petals onto flesh.
To hold this secluded affair to the rhythm
of my aorta, was to let feelings
become a part of life, but now that dream
is gone from me, tarnished
by great banishment at the hands of fallen hope,
lost to a passionless time.
The apple-seed has withered, and with it,
I cannot settle in the deserted graveyard
awaiting me the moment I return to reality’s fold.

A definition of thy word use

Sweet; a term coined by a young lady
who wished not to harm the hungry
heart of her admirer by letting him
down so gently, not realising that
the pain he felt from falling was still
as plentiful without the inclusion of
such a word, which is now a cliche
that brings more agony than it

On the day that I do die

A piece of poetry about a life unfinished, a death that came too soon, and a love that was not accomplished

On the day that I do die, there is something that I would have planned to say
when I arrive in front of Saint Peter sometime on the following day.
He would probe me with many varieties of questions about my life thus far; questions I would have to answer,
as to ascertain that I was not a danger to Heaven, and so would not spread through paradise like a cancer.
I do not know if I would provide to the man the answers that he did seek,
but the words I would say would come from my heart when I eventually did speak;
I lost one woman because I loved and cherished and cared for her too much,
and the last thing I ever felt was when our lips did passionately touch.
I lost the second woman I adored because I did not love her enough,
and on the day we left each other, my heart felt so barren, broken and rough.
The third and final woman that I loved could not allow a relationship to be,
and the day I died I was in love with a woman who could never truly love me.
I do not know if she felt anything for me; joy, anger, sadness, remorse, the day that I did die,
all that is for certain, is that until that day, I never realised a young woman could make you cry.
An ocean of endless tears constantly fell across my face as I frequently wept,
whilst at the same time, the one woman of my dreams, she happily partied, drank and slept.
I do not know if she did hate me, or if I happened to cause her absolute disgust,
but always I did believe in my heart, who said she was the one, so my heart I did trust.
I read once that we choose who to love, for love is but a chemical, and we give such a powerfully romantic emotion meaning by choice,
but in this circumstance it was not my decision to love her; I simply fell for her beauty, her intellect, her professionalism, her voice.
From the moment I first laid eyes on her, she was undeniably and constantly in my thoughts,
for if there was such a thing as the web of love, in hers, like a fly, I had been officially caught.
However, I do not know if she was capable of romance, or if she was focused solely on her career,
and even though I am now officially dead and gone from the world, this is the one thing I still frequently fear,
for even though I can no longer be hers, I still wish for her to experience and feel true love,
and from now until she eventually finds ‘the one’ I will always look down on her from up above.
She believes that upon meeting the man of her dreams, the both of them shall fall in love immediately,
and I do suppose that I am, to this day grievously disappointed, that such a man could not be me.
Maybe when I was alive, I was simply not destined to be the man to give to her a life of romance,
but now that I do think about it, never in life did she provide to me one single, miserable chance.
When the sun did set, she would go with her friends to bars and clubs in an attempt to ‘reel in’ Mr. Right,
whilst I was willing to give her absolutely everything she ever wanted, every day and night,
and if I could not provide all that she had wanted, then I would have done my very best
to give to her a life that at night would allow her to sleep soundly and happily rest.
However, on no occasion did I see a line of men queuing up in the hope of being forever hers,
for only I had shown such interest, so why could she not be with me – why could she not be with this young sir?
Perhaps if she had been able to love me, in fact, I am certain of it, my heart would not have committed suicide and I would not be dead,
but, even if this be the truth, I will only ever love this one ravishing, gorgeous young woman, I will never love anyone else instead.

Gold vs. Green/Pointing a gun to an Angel’s head

SYNOPSIS: A piece about losing love, only to find love again on the rebound, only to fall madly in love once more, only to lose that love again and only then learn and appreciate the true meaning of pain and suffering. Dear reader, I will admit, this piece may not always make a complete amount of sense.

Warning: This piece contains some coarse language and strong sexual references.

‘Better put on some mittens
and lock up your l’il kittens
cuz tonight it’s gonna get freezin’ cold.
Find that someone you’ve been wantin’ to hold
and never dare let them go.
Your emotions, let ‘em show,
as you stare into each other’s eyes.
The immense power to paralyze
is a truly powerful thing.’
Such words are really amazing,
such words are not mine. A friend I once knew
confessed this to me to confess to you,
as to forever have you as my one and only,
for you are, as you always have been, a fantasy
that I cannot times infinity live without.
This love affair is what this poem is about.

There’s a monkey in my lap
I think my ex has the clap,
and if that bitch is suggestin’
that I gave her the infection
then I have to proudly announce that she is sourly wrong,
for my wonderful equipment has been so clean all along.
For here I am, smiling with a white silk shirt,
all the while happy, playing in the grey dirt
looking for a new woman to occupy my active mind,
cuz memories of an old romance I don’t wish to rewind.
It was then that I saw you, like an angel on the other side of the river.
‘Give me a chance young lady, just one chance, and I will forever be your lover.’
However, you send more misinterpreted signals than a fuckin’
traffic light in the middle of the city that is beyond broken;
one day you’re bright red, one day you’re lime green and the next day you are but gold.
Just tell me, what are we doing? Do you even know? Are you hot or cold?

Driving down the motorway, two seconds from overload;
I do not know where I am, and who cares for the zip code,
for I’m driving in a beast that drinks gasoline
like I do cold beer; yeah, she’s a well oiled machine,
with a bitchin’ engine and well gassed wheels,
she’s a rusted down piece of chrome and steel.
She’s got herself a red finish with white racing stripes
which run straight down the centre, with gas blasting out the pipes
on the arse end of her sleek body which is brilliant if I dare say
on this not so glorious afternoon of a sunny Saturday.
This car of mine, she was designed for wet n wild fun,
and I sure as shit ain’t stoppin’ her on this dog run,
so to hell with the darn cops, if they wanna catch me,
they better be doin’ more than friggin’ one eighty
on this freeway as I burn rubber like I burn carbohydrates
whilst driving in an old dog with some friends of mine who can relate.

Riding shotgun is Alex, as foxy as can be,
and in the back rides Ryan and his girlfriend Natalie.
The two have been getting’ at it, both been getting’ busy
as we drive right through this always over crowded city
for driving around in a bad ass corvette
is likely to get any femme fatale wet.
Like me, this car, she glitters, but she ain’t nearly all gold,
if you’re playing cards with me honey I suggest you fold,
for I know you have a full house, but I’ve a royal flush,
and if you’ve met me, then you’ve certainly had your brush
with destiny, and I tell yer now like I tell yer then, I don’t wanna spoil
your surprise, cuz I’m like a shotgun baby, you have gotta watcha recoil
else you’re gonna get hurt, so I suggest we play it safe, even if we play it rough,
cuz I’m sure you know like me that a little safety is never quite safety enough
when it comes to internal security. So let’s be sure we’re both protected
cuz you don’t want what I got baby, you don’t wanna ever be love infected.

At night our combined voices create quite the crescendo,
I guess that’s the penalty of frequent innuendo,
and if it is, then I haven’t a problem with this.
Such no doubt always begins with a passionate kiss
as it always did, and before you know it we’re lying in bed.
The deed has been done, and I sigh and say ‘nothing like a good head
job’, and you smile and nod and agree.
Absolutely, undeniably,
for Jesus may have died for the sins of all humanity, but he didn’t die for mine,
and I don’t know if he realised I would find sex to be quite so elegant or divine
as to want it every night and day with you, forever and ever
and never would I give up on us, no I wouldn’t, I would never.
For it’s when you say ‘I’ve an itch under my scared flap of skin,
please, can you touch it, can you stroke it, can you really do it in?’
that I find you so utterly insatiable;
my feelings for you – they are undeniable.

‘I want to be with you’ I say with a smile upon my face
that no nefarious occurrence could ever dare erase,
for I am shirtless, sleeveless but not sexless within this life I’m livin’ in.
I do not like losin’ any fight, and when I find you I’ll call that a win.
To do so however, I will need a gift; a keen sense of direction,
but you needn’t fear for never have I failed a self-appointed mission.
‘Have you a map?’ you ask, ‘what map!’ I respond, ‘the journey is in my mind,
and I swear to you that sometime soon you will be the treasure I will find.’
For I know that I like sleeping
and that you yourself like sleeping,
so when I have you, why don’t we sleep together?
Please, I beg of you, do not use the word ‘never’
in a sentence, when you indeed answer my question.
So please, before you speak, listen to my confession;
‘I love you sweet lady (these words I say are fact I swear) and I always will
until this world of ours is dead and gone and time is forcibly standing still.

Perhaps I’ve been wrong this whole time; perhaps more is less, perhaps less is more,
cuz I’ve been yelling to get some good service, I’ve been yelling for the law
to come arrest the bastard who can’t seem to fetch me a bloody drink,
all I wanted was some decent ice cold beer with some chardonnay pink,
but I guess such was just too darn difficult for that dumb son of a bitch.
Which witch is which?
Which watch is right?
Which of these should I dare to truly trust on this darkened candle lit night?
Normally this time of evening, the wine
would be making you one hundred per cent mine
tonight. But on this specific occasion,
there was no such amazing legislation,
cuz it sucks when the one you love really hates you,
when the one woman who was your muse rejects you,
and now all I want is a bottle to drown away my sorrows
just so that I can survive to see the rise of a tomorrow.

‘I am one loony baboony in a cocoony’ I replied,
to the woman I called ‘mine’ who loved me once, the day my heart died.
‘Now there is no one else for you to turn to’
you said, ‘you have lost yourself deep within you.’
‘I’ve been broken, belittled; my heart’s been officially ripped out’
I cried, ‘tell me, what is all this concerning, what is this about?’
You shrugged your small shoulders. ‘Pretty soon you will be dead.
If only you had listened to what your mamma said.
Don’t you remember what she thrice said to you?
Guess you never had one decent, single clue,
or was it that your mind was filled with lead?
Many angels sacrificed their lives for you, many angels have fought and died,
but what was the point, for you’re about to commit emotional suicide.
If you continue on with this expedition,
in the bible there’s only one definition;
pointing a handgun to an angel’s head.’

I still remember the past, that is my curse,
cuz tonight it’s the end of my universe
and I really, truly, nearly am feelin’ fine
as I down a crystallised bottle of white wine
over the course of this very late night
before I get caught up in all the light
of love and life and imminent death,
cuz normally I would lose my breath
when you suddenly enter the room.
You’d play the wife, and I’d play the groom,
we were shitty actors but come the night we were better than ‘great’,
for we were together as promised by the designers of fate,
but now this life has changed and it ain’t the way it used to be
and now you can no longer bring yourself to stand next to me.
You have a week to pack your things and leave, then you can go nuts,
shouldn’t be too hard really cuz let’s face it – you hate my guts.

The Way it Ought to be

SYNOPSIS: About a man who failed to properly live the life which had been granted to him, and the opportunity of new love that he so wished to have as his.

Light a candle to remember the fallen soul; the deceased wonder of us all;
the child of a deadly sacrifice that which is love eternal and infinite.

Such could, if I be lucky, be the words spoken on the morning of my passing
over an intrepid candle that burns most brightly in the hour of my death,
for failing terribly to properly live the life that had been given to me.
Although I wished to be not nobody, I failed to become a certain someone
and so I am forced to sit in the abyss of my soul whilst contemplating love,
as I stare into the eyes of the man who stares back into me from the mirror.
His expression fills me with sorrow as he forces me to remember the past;
such as it was the element that brought me to the place in time I am in now.
Perhaps if I had changed my actions, life would have become the way it ought to be.
But then again’ I think, as the face of the young woman that I love fills my mind,
maybe everything that happened, happened because fate had always wanted it to.
If such be the case, then fate it seems, is an insidiously twisted creature
for leaving my withered heart to die alone within the passages of this text.
The story behind how I came to feel this way happened during the last winter;
such being an event I remember so well for I relive it everyday.
I will paint the scene as it was for me; in colour; vibrant, fluorescent and true.
A party, it was, in a friend’s giant house, with music playing from dusk till dawn.
This friend of mine had just turned twenty-one, this party being a special occasion,
for nobody ever turns twenty-one twice, thus, everyone had been invited.
The house itself was two storeys in height, looming like a huge, pitch coloured monster.
The lights that were on were its facial extremities, making it look so alive;
if one judged the party on its exterior they would have been terribly wrong;
music was passable, food was delightful and the alcohol kept on coming.
The lights were turned up to their highest extent illuminating all of the house.
The walls were constructed from the thickest plaster, yet they rocked to the beat like leaves.
The luxurious furniture looked so eccentric, whilst someone puked up their guts.
The people present danced to the groove, dreaming of getting into each other’s pants;
and as all of this transpired I looked towards the tower of erected gifts
and just as my eyes came to land on my present, they began to drift towards you.
You were leaning up against the far wall with shadows dancing across your features.
One boot covered foot was against the wall, whilst the other was placed upon the floor.
You wore tight blue jeans that were glued upon your magnificently formed body.
Above the waist you wore a light brown, formalised jacket, with buttons down the front.
Beneath this was a feministic shirt that was an aqua and pink in colour.
Your jet black hair was curly in appearance and tied back in a crimson scrunchie.
In one hand you held a piece of literature, whilst in the other a beverage.
I would go on to describe the beauty of your face but I could not find the words,
for there are no words in any known language to describe someone as beautiful;
those, bright dark brown eyes; those luscious crimson lips; that incredible, heartwarming smile.
I realised then I need you, the same way I need oxygen, food and water
and I know from now on my thoughts when I masturbate will consist only of you.
I wish to love you the way Achilles loved the battle and how he loved the sword;
the way Marc Anthony loved Cleopatra, or the way King Midas loved his gold.
It is now in this story that I proceeded to make my way over to you.
I wonder, how you would react knowing your beauty has captured a man like me,
and as I undress your ravishingly fabulous body with my dark brown eyes,
I know I should be put to death for the heavily sexualised thoughts that I have.
It is now that I go to speak, but I unfortunately fail to find the words.
You look up at me and seem almost annoyed; you don’t want another pick-up line;
but the unfortunate thing for you is, you’re about to receive one anyway.
You roll your eyes and stand aggressively before eventually asking my name;
I say you won’t ever require it, for you have everything you’ll ever need.
From now until your body is but dust and your life’s all but a sweet memory;
until forever is no longer forever you will not need to know my name.
Besides, what is a name, even my own, when you don’t have the man to give it to?
This is why my silence is so bitter sweet, for together, we will never be.
With that being said you gently tilt your head and wonder what question you should cite next.
You ask ‘where are your feelings, where do they reside, where do they shine the brightest?’,
and I say ‘they are where the sun does not see and where the moon cannot penetrate’,
for I’m the pariah; the interloper; the worst of all the world’s pretenders.
This is the excuse I wish to give for trying to grab your heart and soul with lies,
for inevitably, such is the later conclusion I will be forced to write.
Never in my life have I been captured by a beauty that I could not have;
but such a woe it is to find that such has unfortunately occurred
and I am been played love’s romantic fool the same way a musician plays the drum.
But even as all of these words, thoughts and ideas are, all of them, but said and done,
I would very much like to get to know you until we are not strangers no more.
I’ve never felt this way for anyone or anything in the entire world;
for you’re everywhere inside of me; you are in my air; my bones; my heart; my blood.
However, as sudden as your heart struck me down with such a force, light lightning,
more sudden was it when another man came up to you and stole your heart away.
He asked you then, with his truly, romantic words, if he could mould your heart a-new.
You looked to have been swooned with joy; captured in the oceans of an age old romance.
He took your lusciously silky hand in his, just as you took his damn hand in yours,
emotions flaring uncontrollably as you stared into each other’s eyes,
being fueled by a powerful passion that made me swoon in the most horrific way;
and with this, he whisked you away, to make love to you the way the Gods intended
and now, every time I see you, you break me, for I wish to be more than friends.
You have made the heroic lion living inside my soul weep a thousand tears;
you pulled out my heart, raised it towards the Heavens and lost it in the black of night
and now I am forced to carry your memory, that is; unforgotten.
Because of you, I have so many scars that cover what this man once used to be.
I have a scar upon my broken heart; a scar that fails to ever go away;
a scar that is in fact a plague, insidiously caused by this ravaged romance.
If you were to come back to these arms once more I would never – and I must stress this,
if you would please come back to these arms once more, I would never be broken again.

Never fall in love

SYNOPSIS: A piece that takes a negative look at the feeling that so many of us wish to endlessly treasure due to its adoringly heartfelt properties, yet possibly dangerous and heart wrenching consequences.

Sometimes the darkness is too much and I feel a little blue.
Do not shed a tear for me cuz I died when I first saw you
after I realised such a young beauty could never love a man like me
and just like that, you and I we came together and we crushed my fantasy
and we also crushed my still red beating heart
that now be but broken and falling apart
from the trauma that it hath terribly sustained –
I only wish that day a lover I had gained.

God, I wish a relationship had come to fruition.
Sometimes I do not even know why I bother livin’
a life that ain’t lovely or romantic
in a world that is so cold and plastic
where the faces of all the living peoples always look the same,
and those I truly love cannot even recognise my true name
because they are blinded by the beauty of other more handsome men.
If given the choice, I would not ever live this life of mine again.

Is it really living, if I frequently feel like death?
Am I really breathing if I am all run out of breath?
I feel like I have run several hundred thousand miles
due to my stubborn bleeding heart and the constant trials
that present themselves every single hour.
Tell me, am I but a man if I cower
away, for I have this fear of my heart been again broken.
‘I love you’ are the three little words I have not yet spoken.

Been in love is like banging your head against a brick wall.
Inevitably, everything you try to love will fall
down, like rain, and will forever disappear,
and those sweet three words I have so longed to hear
I will unfortunately never bear witness to once more
as I find my cold cadaver lying hapless on the floor
of Hell’s horrific barren wasteland for the hundredth time in one day.
Anyone who dreams of getting close to me, I urge you ‘stay away.’

This is the day you die

SYNOPSIS: Basically, this piece is about the powerful hold women have over men, and their ability to destroy them ever so easily once a man has been corrupted by that emotion called ‘love.’

It only takes a single woman, to bring a soldier to his knees.
She will make him beg and steal and plead; oh, sweet woman, stay, if you please.
And she says ‘my love; never will come a time when my feelings for you begin to fade’
and the soldier replies ‘I love you too and will eventually love you back in spades.’
It is then, when the man is at his weakest, that she shoots him down,
before removing her halo, as the bullet blows through his crown.
For she may look like an angel, but she certainly stings like pain;
she will make him nauseous, and drive his heart, mind and spirit insane.
It is now that she gets off from her high horse, placing her feet back onto the ground,
and she begins to speak ever so silently, without making a single sound.
And she says to that soldier, with those big, beautifully ravishing eyes;
‘this is the day you die. This is the day you die. This is the day you die.’