We dance in it's pleasures.
We count it's treasures.
We hide from it's terror.
We wait for it's surrender.
Oh, how I love adventures.
Copyright © 2015 Paul Forbes All Rights Reserved
ling your hook in the
sea of life•hoping for bre-
am, salmon or pike•one of
which would make the perfect
wife•many a fish in rivers and lakes
•plenty more awaiting in oceans and seas•
many would do whatever it takes • battling
the days' heat and nights' breeze • wishing
upon many moonbeams•followed by
• the passing of indifferent •
sun-rays •waiting an
that coveted catch
of the day
Concrete Poem 6 of 30
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I’ve dreamed I was falling asleep
And shaking myself to keep awake.
There’s only so much weirdness
And crap a poor dreamer can take.
It was all involved with friends you see
That I don’t see now, because they
Were stranger than my dreams
Or maybe I was. Back in the day.
I would be partying with them
And walking remembered streets
But I’d look around and everybody
Found other people to go meet.
Then suddenly the Hollywood
I knew and loved for twenty years
Became Kansas City boulevards
And Hollywood totally disappears.
Or maybe I’m coming home
At the end of a tiring long day
And look around, find myself
Saying, no way. No effing way;
This is not my apartment!
It’s fine, I kind of like the place
But someone is pulling a joke
The housekeeping is a disgrace.
Then someone would come in
Who I was supposed to know
And this chick is my roommate?
Oh, no. This woman has got to go.
But before I can get my head
Wrapped around standing up
My family is there too, cooking
Handing me a steaming hot cup.
Well,, now I can’t offend them
So, I sit my *** back down.
I don’t want to seem ungrateful
Like some unfunny kind of clown.
******, I leave to go for a walk
Thinking I am in Tucson but then
This is the Country Club Plaza
And I’m back in Kansas City again.
One time I was building something,
Under an expensive sort of contract
But none of the sub-contractors
Or the assistants knew how to act.
They were putting the thing together
Like a Rube Goldberg machine.
I was going ballistic on them all;
The ugliest thing I had ever seen.
These are the dreamworlds for me
On a regular, but often bizarre basis.
Streets change while walking
And people I know change their faces.
Or I am tasked to do something
Involving technology or looming mass
I end up getting no help at all
And wind up falling right on my ***.
I think I am ready
Ready to fall into myself
Ready to fall deep into my soul
Ready to fall into my own arms
Ready to fall into my ocean of thoughts
I think I am ready
I think I am ready to fall in love with myself
I think I am ready
To you, my one and only unknown love, I bestow unto you my heart and burning desires.
I've dreamed of our wedding day, and much more to come.
But still with a blank slate, for you, my one and only unknown love.
Gently we lie
under cosmic glowing shimmers
Satin and sheen
on this moonlit night divine
Feeling the touch
of your skin as soft as whispers
Tasting your lips
sweet as wild cherry wine
Here in your eyes
I see heaven's smile reflecting
Deeply I breathe
in the essence of your sighs
Drenched in your flesh
with the heat of passion flowing
beneath dark November skies
Lost in this night
as the universe is blushing
falling star dust from above
Holding you tight
on this evening of forever
Sharing our dreams,
perfect moments spent in love
a pinch of truth must
season every falsehood or
the palate rebels
Sometimes words lose their grandeur at the same time I drop dishes and bite my tongue and bruises form and I forget to say it back.
Sometimes I forget how small I am and really I am so small and remembering the way someone takes their coffee doesn't mean you care.
I have been myself in small intervals and with each time change a stranger with my skin crawls into it's place, coughing up 8 in the morning on Saturday's and crumpled sticky notes with ink smudges.
The fever rising fixation on having pen on paper pen on skin scribbling thoughts that are fastened to trains without brakes.
Pen on walls pen on something, something that'll hold it together longer than you can.
I've heard airports see more sincere kisses than wedding halls and hospitals hold more prayers than churches.
Maybe that's why I started buying plane tickets and stopped talking to God.
We missed the last train out of the city, I haven't been awake at night in a while. I haven't seen the darker parts of the city since you.
Nothing like the town so quiet all the kids must have already left for college and for jobs and to make their own babies in other quiet towns.
All the houses on our street have the same fathers so we wash our hands before meals and pray to our church for forgiveness because all the kids at school have been saying it's your fault that daddy left mommy.
I guess at that party we were all lonely
Strangers starting to seem okay to talk to,
you have a better chance of getting picked up in a van by the older boys at the end of your street. Making you drink bottled love while doing donuts on First.
I find it hard to say I am stronger than my brother's when I've spent a lot more time holding my breath than tying their shoes.
I've become my mother in more than just one way, we both know facing it and not having the strength to leave are two different things.
And I never meant to give the key to someone who would make copies but lose the original.
I guess at that party we were all thinking too much
That party only celebrated pity and I only pitied myself.
So it was a couch full of me and a room full of you.
Sometimes I forget how small I am and maybe sometimes I'm not as small as I thought.
Sometimes words lose their grandeur at the same time I build towers out of them.
and drums of skin
bring a song
we can begin
bring us all
into the dark
fly to the marrow
into the darkness
like a sparrow
the way is broad
the outcome narrow
hush my heart
into this way
love the night
and not the day
lust for shadow
shun the light
give your soul
without a fight
sense the smoke
it's rising higher
you're coming closer
to the fire
come my children
slip to depths
you cannot climb
in the end
you are mine
They say I **** at writing,
They say I **** at grammar,
They say I made syntax errors,
They say I made orthographic errors...
They say you are not good enough to express yourself,
They say learn English, you first grader..
They say I am too bad at everything,
That means I am too bad even at expressing myself..
They say you are good for nothing...
Ah they are my real peers!
And with a different teaching style
I love the people who love cursing me for my good, and I promise I would show them that I am worth their anger - I would improve my English soon. :-)