I feel it hit
so hard I’m nearly blown to the ground
the winds that say
“we were only passing through”
attempts at catching them are feeble at best
sad but realistic
and painful to witness
changeing myself so I parachute
all to keep the winds that once moved so sweetly
reality hits me again
the winds say
“it was only a matter of time”
I try to maintain this form all to see its blowing me back
why do the winds never stay?
Is the point to simply send you a shiver
then be on their way
to blow past what is no longer loved
or perhaps appreciable
for after a tornado pushes through
nothing can be recognized.

There is no easy way out.
Finding solace in cigarettes,
malice in each intent.
When we kiss and flash,
I taste snow and ash-
slippery, salty blood lust.
4 a.m galaxies and gold speckled chains.
The thud in your lungs and the flood in my veins.

Adjusting my pace simply to make space
for the passing of strangers I'll quickly erase.
From my celestial mind and my unaligned spine.
While these battered boots pitter patter
atop the gum splattered streets,
Where I silently succumb to an alarming defeat.

You,
jumbling and juggling my thoughts-
they cling like sweaty icicles in the their last dying breath.

You, me, we.
Naked on a patch of empty mattress
Everything too symbolic to possibly process
Standing solitary in unison
beneath the draining translucent sink above
a degree too warm, my skin blushing on accident-
insides tangled and squirming
when that warm wet hand wrapped itself so delicately
around an unremembered segment of skin .
a stray fingertip racing up my thigh,
my throat clasping at the shudder
as i glance into those boring brown eyes

"I don't **** people I respect."

But this was a truth that was too soon broken,
I was disguised, misguided and easily cloaked when
the eyes I knew from a childish fluke
swept me
into a bed of nails that i thought
would protect me

you, me, we-
behind a rubber duck shower curtain
in the spotlight of the stage
where the x's had been taped
i was made certain a foolish damsel in distress
to each falsified caress.

but in those last fleeting moments
where the memory's page
starts to curl and break
you reached your arms out to me
and like damp sheets in the breeze of my body
we take our final plunge for all to see
and we lower to our knees
to scrub the smudges in between.

It was 2 a.m, as usual.
The doorbell rang and I knew right away
who would be slouched against the rusty gate
stuffed with cylindrical flyers full of food i'll never buy.
Hunched over in a hand me down coat
with that strange scarf I never liked tied around your throat.
You flashed a smile, a brief “hey” slipping through it's lack of authenticity.
and I mimicked you, as babies do, and stepped barefoot onto the
cigarette littered leaf scattered stoop, a bowl of knock off cereal cupped
in both my hands, my hair still wet, my mind still drunk.
I fumbled to the stairs and placed myself atop them
and you mimicked me, as babies do,
placing your fragile frame beside me, a few more inches away than usual.
Without hesitation you slid through your speech
and I nodded and smiled and continued to attempt to attract you
despite circumstance, despite that glowing ominous ornament
dangled high in sky, distracting my eyes and passing the time.
We agreed to demolish whatever was left standing from that wall we built,
of awkward breakfasts, yearning eyes across parties, anonymous hairs on jackets,
make out sessions on tattered couches, greetings with waves.
All the details deleted, left unfinished, perhaps one day to be returned to.
As unlikely as I figured it to be.

I rose to my feet, the wind whipping down 21st street,
my tar black makeup still loosely lining my eyes,
I gently rested my head on that shoulder I so briefly admired,
and admitted to my early infatuations; the poems I had written but would never share.
You protested, said you were curious of them.
I denied you, and you didn't ask again.

But if you would've- just once more.
I would've read you them.
Maybe even this one.

But you didn't,
and much like babies,
we mimicked each other
and crawled away.

****-
if you write
it...
They will come.

I

LEAGUERED in fire
The wild black promontories of the coast extend
Their savage silhouettes;
The sun in universal carnage sets,
And, halting higher,
The motionless storm-clouds mass their sullen threats,
Like an advancing mob in sword-points penned,
That, balked, yet stands at bay.
Mid-zenith hangs the fascinated day
In wind-lustrated hollows crystalline,
A wan valkyrie whose wide pinions shine
Across the ensanguined ruins of the fray,
And in her lifted hand swings high o'erhead,
Above the waste of war,
The silver torch-light of the evening star
Wherewith to search the faces of the dead.

II

Lagooned in gold,
Seem not those jetty promontories rather
The outposts of some ancient land forlorn,
Uncomforted of morn,
Where old oblivions gather,
The melancholy, unconsoling fold
Of all things that go utterly to death
And mix no more, no more
With life's perpetually awakening breath?
Shall Time not ferry me to such a shore,
Over such sailless seas,
To walk with hope's slain importunities
In miserable marriage? Nay, shall not
All things be there forgot,
Save the sea's golden barrier and the black
Closecrouching promontories?
Dead to all shames, forgotten of all glories,
Shall I not wander there, a shadow's shade,
A spectre self-destroyed,
So purged of all remembrance and ****** back
Into the primal void,
That should we on that shore phantasmal meet
I should not know the coming of your feet?

she
is what she is meant to be,
she is the sensuality
of her femininity,
she
seeks beauty in all
she sees,
her essence is complex simplicity,
she
is contradictory,
she is all
that's satisfactory,
in her days
and in her dreams,
she
is lovely,
loving me,
she
is everything,
woman,
perfectly
a precious, priceless,
part of
me
that is
she.
_
Femininity
http://beautyineverything.com/4618419981

Geisha is forever,
a gift for all to see--
not for all to have.
__
Geisha:
http://beautyineverything.com/4396763860
_
This is my first attempt at composing a senryu.

"I'd rather have a bottle in front of me,
than a full frontal lobotomy,"
or so the saying goes,
as for me, myself and I, my friend,
I'd take both to soothe my woes!
__
Jack, the liquid lobotomist:
http://beautyineverything.com/5060607209

ummm, that's the poem.
what it says.

birds on barbed wire,
watching over me,
lodged in a private
penitentiary.

birds on barbed wire,
not a chirp or peep they make,
they just perch between the barbs,
watch, waiting, wait, watching me
shiver in silence, violence shake.

birds on barbed wire,
will neither spread wings,
or take flight,
these wire-bound birds
will not
leave me out of their sight;

-nor will any such
birds on barbed wire
call out or make cry,
these birds on the wire
are here to wait and watch me
just die.
___

birds, barbed wire:
http://beautyineverything.com/5082513864

i want you if
even for the
shortest moment
of time
even if knowing
our hellos
will also be
goodbye.

i want
you

to hold me.