Comme un film Godard
ils parlaient et ils parlaient
sans fin, sans arrêt.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 7:19 PM UTC
I love you so much
I can say more in the touch
of a single finger
than in a whole poem
about you.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 5:37 AM UTC
You make me want to sing
You make me want to laugh
You make me want to fly
You make me want to live
(you make me want to run away and hide and cry and scream and punch
and hurt you now and hurt you bad so it will all be over and you will go
and I will be alone and will never be able to hurt you again and again
and again)
You know what I mean?
Aug 29, 2011
Aug 29, 2011 at 7:23 AM UTC
Through the gaps in the airline-style seating
I catch glimpses
snapshots
of her face
(or at least,
Its constituent parts)
An almond eye, subtly lined
a rise of cheekbone, flushed but unblushed,
and half of her smile
directed at me?
And I feel like Picasso
piecing together
the jigsaw piece sections
from an altered perspective
and seeing her whole
as beautiful.
Aug 29, 2011
Aug 29, 2011 at 7:22 AM UTC
She dances
with a freedom
with abandon
with a style all her own
to recall faded memories
of past, and lost, loves
and of the night
she left me, and with her
took my hopes
took my dreams
took what little left life had
and danced away.
Aug 29, 2011
Aug 29, 2011 at 7:20 AM UTC
I’m sorry I’m just not myself
(i’m sorry that’s all i ever am)
I’m sorry I didn’t mean it
(i’m sorry that i meant every word)
I’m sorry for taking so much of your time
(i’m sorry i can’t ask for it all)
I’m sorry that I feel this way
(i’m sorry i can’t feel anything else)
I’m sorry for being so down
(i’m sorry that it looks like up to me)
I’m sorry for everything
(i’m sorry for far more than that)
Aug 29, 2011
Aug 29, 2011 at 7:17 AM UTC
He picked up the phone
pressed the small green button
scrolled through the list of recently dialled numbers
stopped at her name
and called her.
“I just spoke to her.”
“And?...”
“And… And I told her –
about you and me
about where and when and how we met.
I couldn’t not tell her
any more.”
There was a pause.
And in the pause he said (in his mind)
And I told her so much more
I told her more than I can tell you
I told her
I love you
with every bone, sinew and muscle every cell I have.
I told her there were no words anymore
to describe what I feel
to describe how I feel
about you
I told her
all the good words were gone
taken and used
by better poets than me.
I told her
who, and what, and why
you are to me.
I told her.
Everything.
The pause was reaching its end.
“Well...” he said,
“what do you think?”
“I think
you should have talked
to me first…”
Now
which conversation do you think
was most important?
Aug 29, 2011
Aug 29, 2011 at 7:16 AM UTC
Being happy
only means
having something or someone
about which you may later
become depressed.
Aug 29, 2011
Aug 29, 2011 at 7:13 AM UTC
Celebrations
mutual congratulations
and a fair flowing stream
of a liquid dream
lead by the nose
to animated fun
and a phone call.
As the tone rang
I blinked
and the sky grew dark
an instant eclipse of the day.
Gripped,
a cold hand of fear on my shoulder
I blinked
and flicked through channel after channel
frantic
panicked searching for news
of the disaster.
What had happened
to make all the lights go out?
I remember
a clock
flashing wrong time
some two hours passed
in the moment it took
to close my eyes.
But nothing
no reports no pictures no screaming people running for the hills
like wild horses
no-one knew.
Only I (lonely I)
all on my own
I knew. Something was wrong.
How else could I spend
no time
talking to You for two hours
and saying nothing at all?
(And ’66 became ’87 without anyone noticing…)
Aug 29, 2011
Aug 29, 2011 at 7:06 AM UTC
Waiting ten minutes
(waiting a lifetime)
for a train
(for an eternity)
to carry me
(back)
to your house
(to your life)
to your marriage
(to your memory)
to some body else.
Aug 29, 2011
Aug 29, 2011 at 7:00 AM UTC