Tell me will you poet?
tell me sweetly in my ear,
tell me of your darkest sin,
and of your hidden fear,
then I will tell it back to you ,
and jot it right down here,
so tell me if you go with it ,
just what you wish to hear?
( I'm listening )
I can tell you that you're perfect,
that you're nice as nice can be,
and tell you that I'm your friend,
that you have a friend in me,
( ugh...not so much )
I'll tell you-
you're the handsomest,
as handsome as a star,
the dreamy one from childhood,
who lives somewhere a far,
( I wish... )
I'll tell you that you're wonderful,
that you're honest -
and you're sweet,
an I'll be at your beckon call,
just waiting at your feet,
I will be the sweetest girl,
that you will ever meet,
( Oh boy )
I'll curve the pretty world you view,
an distort it if I must,
tell me will you poet,
are my words the ones you trust?
I can tell a sad goodbye,
or sheets we tangle up in lust,
( ....uh..notta chance, but-)
I can tell of heated passion,
of heated lovers in the night,
while some have heated intercourse,
some others have a fight,
either way with all that heat,
there's hope they both ignite,
an when you cut your own hand off,
it's only YOU-
( OK don't get pissy )
So I can kiss you with my paper,
I can caress you with my pen,
I can leave you feeling anxious love,
or I can leave you feeling zen,
I can be beside you there,
just name it where and when,
( hope not tho )
I can mention that you're genius,
just the smartest guy I know,
except for when it comes to love,
and then it's all for show,
or I can just omit that part,
so no one ever know,
( I'm sure you'd prefer that )
I can tell you any fake thing,
so sweetly in your ear,
it may not be the truth though,
and there in lies the fear,
if I tell you only truth then,
when I'm drawn in really near,
then tell me will you poet,
what should I say my dear?
( oy vey )
Because some objectified objects,
well they have opinions too,
and flattery gets you no where,
even if these facts I say are true,
it's only in a certain light,
when you tip it all askew,
so that everyone can finally see,
The real "beauty" there in you,
as it all comes out,
now so clearly into view,
And I wonder why would I-
ever waste a single precious breath?!
Ma Cherie © 2017
Someone will kick me in the stomache
And leave me breathless
And we will grow up-
I will remember it
But they may not
The feeling will leave footprints on my ribcage
That will turn to mud
On hardwood kitchen floors
We will fight
And probably cry,you more than me
But oh can you imagine the happiness you bring!
One day you will lay your head
On the place that first knew your heartbeat
And we will both be home
He pens pretty poetry on a paper pad
hoping the mistakes he made would fade,
He counts each and every syllable to be safe
but the metaphors don't speak the fact.
He pens pretty poetry on a paper pad
to display the heartbeats and darker shades
of living the days of replayed heartbreak
just so that he could bury hurt in sand.
His right hand writes away the tears
the years have made him grown bitter;
he shrivels as the roses start to wither
and poems become scribbled cries no one hears.
He ends tear-stained poems before it gets torn
with last words that read loving you was war.
If God gave me wings, why fly above volcanoes?
Why do I hide from the sun yet dance with tornadoes?
Why do I frolic with the demons in a city of angels?
And why is there a self destruct button on this halo?
I was determined to be biblical but now I'm nothing to this earth
I'm nothing but a stain for I have depleted all my worth
I set fire to my wings and flew straight into that church
So they pulled the feathers off my back and tossed me to the curb
I gave up all I had for a taste of Adam's apple
And went from a saint to a sinner...
From an angel to an asshole
You told me about the drug that made you feel calm
That weed was the center and the smoke signals you puffed my way were not my signals
No I did not want the carvings you offered to me in your own arm
I would have held your hand if not for alcohol stained kisses on your fingers
People like you were a ballon filled positivity and until the needle hit you stayed that way
You've never heard of helium for fuel
But somehow along the line your voice changed anyways
I didn't see the age rings inside of you
New layers of wood covered those
Outside its raining razor blades and everybodys bleeding.
Inside its little better as the seeds of hate are seeding.
But me i'll keep it simple see.
Take pleasure in my toil.
I'll slake my thirst on the morning dew and feast upon the soil.
The wind had blown ten thousand miles.
Then paused outside my door.
She whispered tales of southern gales and storms against the shore.
She expressed regret before she left for taking up my day.
What could i do?
I said adieu!
And sent her on her way.
Outside the rain has finally stopped and everyone is healing.
Inside the seeds have failed to sprout and hate has turned to feeling.
And me i'll keep on breathing see.
Thats how to take the air.
I'll share a glass with my Armagh lass and kiss her windswept hair.