She gave me gloves.
Jan 11      Jan 12

She gave me gloves.
Sapphire lets call her
I loved how she would
roll her eyes close
whenever i swore louder
or when i-
being in the mood
of being an arrogant snob
Told me to be, mean
and so vicious

But Lady Sapphire is kind as the
depth of the ocean and nice
as the sugar and spice
of a confused fangirl,
Who i believe
is precious as the rock
i name her from

This house is burning straight to the ground
And all you can think about
Is that you're "cold now that all the sweaters are destroyed"
"But the embers look beautiful floating by my face."
I guess you took a few too many pills,
And I didn't take quite enough.
It wasn't the flames of justice that engulfed our house.
But it doesn't really matter.
Because that house was not a home.
A home is where I live with someone I love.
So that house was not a home.
Because I didn't love you.
I loved your hips and you tits.
I fucked you and you made me drinks when I got back from work.
I never loved you.
I started the fucking fire to get a rise out of you.
You still don't care.
At least I made you fucking shiver a little.
Like that counts for shit.

the night shoals of city lights,
where stumping feet
gives their own interpretation
to the baseness of silence
nothing is serene
just marked time
with feral pride
stretching into tied darkness.

the pink gloves rest softly on the table
Will Rogers III

the sun flickers upon his hand
and thoughts of the past flicker upon his mind
no time there is for school or band
when sadness, lies, and regrets are behind

freedom from all thoughts is his prayer
but that is not possible for now
he fears this time he can not bare
but he must trust Him somehow?

the pink gloves rest softly on the table
And the sun drifts softly across the heart unstable

[composed on 1/22/14]

too large, fit for the rabbit,

slipping silk, no hand to hold,

while waving slide off.

you think they will have thought of pins

just now.

all that tapping,

makes a soul happy.

benefits are few these days,

make the most of those

that live in huts.

believe  that the earth loves us.


See Holmes
See Holmes
Nov 24, 2012      Nov 24, 2012

the swirls and swirls
of velvet fine gowns
couldn't pull my eyes
from the practiced smile
atop your red bow tie.

you slide and slide
across the room
as if on a fine film
of maker's mark
and captain jack

your hands on hands
of every esteemed
and eligible maiden
(you know your
parents will approve)

I'd rather run and run and run and run.

Dec 18, 2013

after we met,
flowers started growing
out of my hands.
my fingers stayed warm
under the patch of
yellow roses and daisies
you planted.
thorns defended my words
against harsh winds,
but no need to worry-
you always carry
a pair of hedge-cutters.

this is for a friend so any advice before i give it to her would be appreciated
These are the gLoves
Paul Goring
Paul Goring
Feb 5, 2011

My first gLove
Lost on the bus
Or In the street
Parted in the snow

My stolen gLove
Taken whilst my back
Was turned

My fleeting gLove
Impaled by a stranger
In the street
On a spike
For all to see

My forgotten gLove
Left lonely
For too long

My worn out gLove
From years of absent

My Christmas gLove
Ill fitting but warm
And worn
For a day

My lost summer
Lost summer
Lost summer gLove
Didn’t make the suitcase

My gLove for life
Soft yielding
And strong

These are the gLoves
I have loved and lost

Copyright - Paul Goring 2011
oster heads oddly resemble red surgical gloves on tennis balls.
βέƦẙḽ Dṏṽ

Rooster heads oddly resemble red surgical gloves on tennis balls.

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