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 Jul 2014 Celtic Lass
Ryan Jakes
**** girl!
Frustration strips my veins as I read your dreams, tempting me with fire
Don't you know I already burn in your flame?

**** girl!
You laugh at my blushes and tease my conscience, as I shake like a poorly mixed cocktail that wants only to slip down your silken throat.

**** girl!
I ask what you're doing, laying supple, arched by the words of angels your reply. My warning wasted on deafened ears.

**** girl!
You don't see what you've got, I do, does he? I'm flesh and blood, close enough to touch, though your soft skin never graces mine.

**** girl!
****!
I was shocked when I heard the key lock.
My heart dropped,
I was left to rot.
Forgot, mocked, and blocked from outside.
No where to run, no one to turn to.
The key had turned, my fate was sealed.
Robbed of life yet still alive,
pleading silently, "please let me out"
Would they treat my plea with dignity?
I couldn't shout, would they hear me?
Not above the hiss of the respirator, of that I have no doubt.
For some reason I started thinking of "Locked in syndrome", this was the result.
© JLB
07/07/2014
 Jul 2014 Celtic Lass
Ryan Jakes
He's nowhere near good enough for you and he knows it.
You're far to good for me, I know it.
That kiss we shared, the one you won't mention, the one that turned from friendly peck to clashing tongues and breathless eyes
will be my nirvana
everlasting.
 Jul 2014 Celtic Lass
Ryan Jakes
Funny how a photograph can pump blood
I only have one of you, it isn't mine
it sits here backlit
shared with all that would gladly drown in those mischief eyes.
Your smile, a moment of calm, a second of perfection caught, always brings my own.
There is no beauty like yours, no work of art has ever made me want to overflow with passion the way you do. I could write countless poems, a thousand odes to your dimples, a million sonnets to your curls, a billion lovesongs to your eyes to no avail. So I'll laugh at your jokes, and be a sturdy shoulder, a friend.  I'll wish the best for you always, while your heart keeps my secret safe. Poets shouldn't fall in love with the unloved, there aren't enough words to describe the agony.
 Jul 2014 Celtic Lass
Ryan Jakes
What if I told you that I loved you? What if I told you that you bring morning to life, that you are the sole character of every dream, positions varying, unlike your silent gaze.

What if I told you that your smile lights my sky better than any star could, what then?
That I have cried at your words a thousand times, as syllables needle sharp fight their war to hold you together, while I can only watch as he knowingly rips you apart.

These words are mine, thrown by my jealous tongue at your fools institution. Words of love to the jaded (though you'd say wise). Everyday you fade as I watch the horizon, hoping for your smile.
What if?
 Jul 2014 Celtic Lass
Ryan Jakes
Why finger paint on paper
why use paper at all?
These tiny prints of blue and red
look great on the living room wall.

The purple suits the bathroom
while the kitchen's in the pink.
the green attacked the bathtub
as the black conquered the sink.

The hallway's like a rainbow
coloured smears for all to see
the bedroom wall? an explosion
in a skittles factory!

Oh I see! It was an accident!
Your fingers ran amok
hyper loaded with these colours
and their spree you couldn't stop!

You stand there flushed, with tear in eye
while staring at your shoes,
as I pull my best angry face,
it fails, you look too cute.

You know what works, though young in years
a Jedi knight in 'jamas,
your mind tricks quickly smoothing out
My rage at each disaster.

I take full responsibility,
this mantra now my own,
never have a lie-in
when Picasso-boy is home.
It's so hard to tell someone off and appear serious while laughing...thank god for washable paints!
a bedtime story*

In the distance stands a lighthouse
seeing all with cyclops eye
once a beacon, now a hollow,
dead in misted moonlit sky.

Proudly once she ruled the headland,
warning all of crag and shoal
trusted friend to salt scoured sea dogs,
smugglers caught within her glow.

Beauty lived as Keepers mistress
'till one day her love did bloom
walking clifftops with her lover
brought her ending, far too soon.

Bloodied, torn by cliff face ragged
screaming for the life she craved,
Beauty held her rounded belly
As fury deep hit waters grave.

Beauty stands alone in darkness
there above the tempest sea
bloated souls of those who perished
now her only company.

 When the moon is high above us
wrapped in rags and witching stare
Beauty stands atop the catwalk
weeds 'a winding through her hair.
My Grandad always told the best bedtime stories about his hometown, he used to love to scare us before bed then smile as he turned out the lights.
I have an itch.
It needs soothing.
I can't scratch it, I won't stop.
I'll scratch until the crimson petals appear.
Watch the vermillion bloom against the white.
Then pick and scratch some more.
Feel relief as I watch the red run in rivulets down into a deep pool.
Hitching myself to an already aching itch was a mistake.
A mistake and itch scratched away with a meat fork*.
© JLB
04/07/2014
 Jul 2014 Celtic Lass
Ryan Jakes
I'll regret you in the morning
but for now, lets have some fun
there's nothing on the telly 
and my working day is done.
I won't call you tomorrow
or even on the next
no need to be your facebook friend
or waste my freebie texts.

I need your taste to thrill me
as into your warmth I slide
with a groan of pure enjoyment
as my stresses run and hide.
I love to taste your honey
as it settles on my tongue,
My God I love you whiskey,
think I'll have another one.
Honey JD....Good God it's good!
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