Sonnets and ballads
Same length sentences
And blocky form
Used to describe you
Is like creating the Sistine Chapel
With paint by numbers

You fit no form, no pentameter
And while hips rhymes with lips
And yours are gorgeous
There no rhyme nor reason to Love

Sonnets and ballads are beautiful
In the way any SoCal girl is
Bleached blonds with big *****
Fit the paper definition of beauty
But paper wilts and crumbles
My Woman Stands strong
They can have their silicone, their plastic
Because when we touch, I feel something real

Remember I Love You, I whisper
Like You needed the reminder
But the smile tells me
The words hit home

And as meaningful as words can be
When we’re together
It’s the absence of them that’s beautiful
Lips are for kissing
Touches and caresses
And looks and smiles
Are what tell You
I Love You

Sonnets and ballads
Same length sentences
And blocky form
Used to describe you
Is like creating the Sistine Chapel
With paint by numbers

You fit no form, no pentameter
And while hips rhymes with lips
And yours are gorgeous
There no rhyme nor reason to Love

Sonnets and ballads are beautiful
In the way any SoCal girl is
Bleached blonds with big *****
Fit the paper definition of beauty
But paper wilts and crumbles
My Woman Stands strong
They can have their silicone, their plastic
Because when we touch, I feel something real

Remember I Love You, I whisper
Like You needed the reminder
But the smile tells me
The words hit home

And as meaningful as words can be
When we’re together
It’s the absence of them that’s beautiful
Lips are for kissing
Touches and caresses
And looks and smiles
Are what tell You
I Love You

How is a ****
Pin-up model
Any different than
Some Renaissance painting
Yet one is a vulgarity
And one is art

Human beings have both
A fascination with eroticism
And some sort of moral obligation
To censor themselves from it

I have been forced to conclude
That the stark reality of the photography
Frightens people
They want to hide
In their catholicized self-made world

I have been forced to conclude
These people are morally weak
(Those that cover the model)
Unable to stow away
Fantasy for Reality
They cannot differentiate
Between their lover and the model
Their mind pursues the physical
Ignoring the romantic

They starve themselves
From such images
Because they cannot
Overcome such lust

While those of true strength
Can view the ******
In all its artistic
And pornographic qualities,
See the physical perfection
And imprint upon it
A mental perfection
Yet turn their backs
On the illusion
While others
Simply shun one illusion
For another.

I have been one acquainted with the night
Moving quickly with unencumbered ease
Through a cooling darkened breeze
Drawing drapes, eluding light
I am one acquainted with the night

I have been one acquainted with the chill
That an October morning brings
With whispered imaginings
Of wine, a blanket and a hill
I am one acquainted with the chill

Barren days and shadowed hours
Make the masses evanesce
Yet no less shared nor picturesque
For they shall remain forever ours
We shall be ones acquainted with the night

Ever see someone and be blown away
Even though it’s a year, a month and several days
Since the one she first said yes?

Yet I sit here, heart beating no less
Faster and harder
When all of a sudden things
Have gone better and farther
Than the heights I thought I’d reach
But what’s stunning is I’ve so much more to learn
And You have so much more to teach
When our eyes lock in that gaze
Your Love envelopes me
And avoids the clichés
Never did I think my demons could be disbanded
Or know that I could have so much
While still being empty handed
But not empty hearted
While it’s amazing that we’ve only just started
And I often look ahead
There’s no where I’d rather be
Than right here, right now
In this bed.

I was looking at the rain
Thinking of You
Thinking of women
And I could only see the rain
Where the pine tree stood as a backdrop

And women now are like the rain
Invisible, but for that one
Where there’s some depth
Something behind the beauty
And that my dear
Is where you come in

In school we learn to be
Not intuitive nor ambitious
Or creative even
In school we learn to take
Not the path with the
Most vibrant colors
But the flattest one.
College is charged
With the castration of young minds
And too often we forget
Just what is left behind
Do I want to write this essay
On the interesting or the easy