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Quinton Oct 2014
i fear i’m too much of a gentleman for your tastes,
walking among the thieves and liars you’ve longed to mate,
i fear i’m too quiet to be your next love -
your next escapade.

cat calls,
she seems to only know:
walking the cement, looking to be heard,
she knows not, to respond to her name.

i know i’m too meek to get her attention,
no ma’am or miss, will go heard -
for she only knows the cat calls she’s heard.
not her beautiful name, i've always perferred

whistles and howls:
she grows from the attention of their hands,
slapped ***** and turning masses,
she knows only the attention of the crowd’s pleas -

cat calls,
she seems to only know:
walking the cement, looking to be heard,
she knows not, to respond to her name.

she knows not, to take the blame -
until time, has been all but lost:
to her seeking the attention of the men
who only know her for midnight’s sake:

i fear i’ll go on & on,
seeking the one who knows the language i try and pass,
for all the misery i’ve learned,
i’ve been taught:

cat calls,
create only as long as their brief escape -
but letters and photographs,
well, they’ll pen our future for decades’ maps

they can have their cat calls,
their attention to the mere masses -
but i’m in love with a women,
i haven’t even met, yet.
Quinton Oct 2014
real love,
real pain -
intimate,
escape:
my fears,
your tears,
nothing perfect -
everything gained,
heart ache,
plans laid,
picket fences?
roads and trains -
about the journey
no hurry,
views seen,
pleasant dreams,
night’s past,
love lasts,
beauties’ mask,
intimate,
escape
here to stay:

journey’s make me feel every way.
Quinton Oct 2014
walking through the streets,
lost in the sea, of controversy
working by day  
blacked out by night.
looking for the binge,
that’ll cover the scars in front of me

walking through the streets,
under the lights - dark hiding the fight.
alone, by choice  
not mine, your’s it seems.
but i’ll be lost come morning -
hiding from the feelings you fed me


lead me to heaven
but I'm sure I won't get in
your heart and mine
isn’t enough to make up for my sins

lead me to heaven
but i’m sure i won’t get in
your heart and mine
isn’t enough to make up for my sins


lost at sea,
adrift in the mess i’ve seen
can’t you see the man i’ve become?
just a distant memory of who I was -
putting the dirt behind, me
working to be - clean

under heaven’s gleam -
running from the fight,
the light - you once showed me
as distant as the stars,
I wish to be  
swimming in come morning’s light


lead me to heaven
but i’m sure i won’t get in
your heart and mine
isn’t enough to make up for my sins

lead me to heaven
but i’m sure i won’t get in
your heart and mine
isn’t enough to make up for my sins


but i’m sure,
the closest i’ll get to heaven’s grace -
is the beauty in your eyes,
and the heart in your soul.
lead me to heaven,
let me stare your eyes, just once more.
Quinton Oct 2014
never date an artist:
for they’ll find the beauty in the fight -
they’ll grow to remove themselves from all the light,
knowing nothing lasts forever,
it’s all a stroke of fate -
or a pen’s dance on a paper’s grate.

never date an artist:
for the moment’s together will be exaggerated into a shakespearean play -
love’s trance will be in every date,
never knowing if the words spilled are the beauties of your’s or estranged gains of a moment’s escape,
for everything is painted by the beautiful eyes of an experienced guide -
is it real or a work of art they’re just trying to explain.

never date an artist:
they’ll miscommunicate everything they care to say -
not knowing how to communicate beyond the artistic escape,
an artist will rejoice in the gain of a moment’s grace,
finding every reason to hide from the honest’s truth -
for an artist is nothing but a fairytale’s goof.

painted, writen and expressed to be everything they wish people would see,
washed up and beaten by reality’s plea -
never date an artist, for their life is nothing but a conglomerated mess -
of how to escape the stress of the everyday and live in hopeless harmony,
they’re nothing but an anomaly:
never date an artist.

trust me.
Quinton Oct 2014
rushhour,
past flowers,
love lost,
cowards
once were,
let rain
showers,
deter
love’s
powers -
walking,
beats,
heart’s
repeats -
past
flings,
never seem,
bright
as
first escape -
lets groove,
move,
show our power:
moment’s
turned hours,
eyes connect,
turned journey’s
futures -
without
moving our
selves,
lets escape
the past,
once more,
before
all rush,
takes over:
lost in the crowds,
soon
we’ll see -
everyone’s free,
but following,
the roads
before,
swimming
shores,
of world’s
most -
lost,
like before:
rushhour -
mind’s worst -
heart’s
best -
if only cars crept,
and eyes wept,
were no more.

— The End —