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Your pale grass colored eyes flickered towards me in the passenger seat;
cigarette out the window
I stare at my ruby colored lips in the side view mirror
You drum your fingers on the wheel to Blue Bossonova
I remember the dream catcher hanging from the mirror catching my eye;
a majestic golden hue from the sunlight reflecting off of it.

We weren't supposed to be driving the car,
We both knew this, but we were rebels
So I had climbed out my window without my parents knowing
ripping my jeans in the process
just to be with you.

Had I known it would be the last time I'd touch you;
Had I known it would be the last time I'd kiss your lips
I would have stayed in my bed
The Shins blaring through my headphones
Thinking about all the things I'm going to do with you

Had I known it would be the last time seeing you smile
The last time hearing you breathe
Hearing you talk
     Touching your skin
I would have obeyed my parents rules for once.

Instead of staring at your pretty green eyes
I stare at the pretty headlights coming our way
I feel the car swerve to the left;
the dream catcher falling
The car spinning like a dradle in the air
It was like everything were in slowmotion
As I look over at you in horror
your pale green eyes flicker away from mine
closing as if to say
"I'm sorry."
The car comes to a hault.
You were motionless as we were upside down
Tears fall down my ****** cheeks
I scream at you to wake up;
but you wouldn't
Then I stopped wasting my breath
I stopped
Like your heart

Had I known it would be the last time I'd touch you;
Had I known it would be the last time I'd kiss your lips
I would have stayed in my bed
The Shins blaring in my headphones
because now I'm fantasying about all the things we could have done

About all the things we could have said
like
"You're paying for the electrical bill this time."
or
"I do."
Now I'm stuck listening to Blue Bossonova
blaring in my headphones
thinking about all the things I'd have to do without you

Had I known
it’s suddently solemn
   it holds me back and tears me down
i swear i can’t even hear
(certain people are so easily drowned)

But I
   I am easily lit
   Fire like you’ve never seen
And it is captivating
I’m showered in red-gold
                     And no one will be amused at all.


I am the calm
  And I am the woman
               And I am the fire.
I love the rush of blood
Whenever you're around.
Stay close
And touch me.
You've awaken my senses.
I'll write a poem on your skin
With my lips, our love tattooed on every inch
At the back of your ear, your delicate nape
Your perfect spine and cheeks like wine

I'll breathe the words in your mouth
Let your soul read and keep my oath
Trace it in your waist and engrave the lines
Down to the lovely hidden shrine

Your eyes on my eyes, my warm hands on your hips
I can hear our poem inside your chest
The rhythm of our hearts will turn it into a song
And with your gentle kiss

*I'll write again.
He's paid his dues for far too long,
singing other people's songs.
For so long that he's forgotten
the voice that was his own.

Now in crowded bars
and seedy cafes
he plays the tunes
He thinks will pay.
His big break wasn't yesterday
nor will it come tomorrow.

Now he drinks alone, in silence,
of the waters of regret.
His old six stringed companion
is the one true friend still left.

He Had a gift they used to say,
and so he traveled to L.A.
Here he's still singing "Yesterday"
with a genuine dash of sorrow.
Inspired by a club singer named Karen whom I followed as a fan some 30 years ago.  For all I know she may still be making the rounds, still playing "the City of New Orleans.   this is dedicated to people w\with talent who never get the chance to shine.
Early morning
book on Schopenhauer
under your arm
cigarettes

in your pocket
you sat in one
of the cafes
in Dubrovnik

having ordered
a coffee
and lit up
to smoke

the book
put on the table
the ashtray
set so

you observed
the passing people
the females mostly
the gentler ***

as is said
the sway of skirt
or dress
the fine legs

the shape of foot
the figures
slim or plump
the mental study

of the shape of ***
the tightness
of ****
and all the while

at the back
of the mind
the idea of God
the faith required

seemingly lacking
the St Augustine view
wanting to be saved
from sin

but not just yet
the waiter
brought coffee
and cake

just the nibble
for the breakfast’s sake
and you thought
on the night before

the walk in the City
the lights lit up
the passing crowds
the concert

some pianist
playing Chopin
you and your brother
side by side

taking it all in
making the most of
and the indulgence
of wine

and the chatting up
of the waitresses
at the hotel
with no success

and you opened
the Schopenhauer book
the print of page
the scatter of words

ideas too deep
for the morning sun
you closed it up
and sipped the coffee

took a drag
on the cigarette
viewed the cute ***
as it passed you by

summer dresses
short skirts
tight tops
in all colours

shoes or bare feet
to please the eye
and the idea of God
observing

listening in
secretly pleading
maybe you do
or do not

to be absolved
from sometime
the deeper sin.
1.
to give a chance, to an attending unsophisticate
await proof of whatever revered worth wanted
seeming to have little or no life experience
means not there's nothing to give

time-trenches furrowed in mire too deep . . .


2.
assume nothing so easy of another
chickety-choo, just see it through
fine particles of gray comet's tail ricochet in the eye
friction desired, yet not always

there is some pluck, you know . . .



3.
you see, as many a soul-straggler roams
some may not shine as bright as desirous fit
but (amongst other things)
actually, they do have something others crave

still unconverted, slow-releasing grit . . .



4.
no crisis here, only eager groom-in-waiting
cheerful chevy, too bright on wooden words
zigzagging to capture all-elusive allure
banish each espiegled scab

clip-clop, tear not off old wounds.



5.
So, even as half-regarded not good enough (yet?)
nails screech on board, turbulent cadence
tips dig deep into sinking blades
grant that chance not only to let make, but to make a mark . . .


for strangely, I already know.



S T, 16 May 2013
ever applied for a position, only to be told... not experienced enough....?

gimme a chance!

must graciously accept, never say never....might get that call again...


.... good enough!
(or only, cos someone else no longer can or .... got the boot...lol)

must one conform so??




'need'

why, you could never own
even if I gave you what I want
I may not have what you want or seek
but what you need

ere facile discard of life-slice
mark well thwarted spot
in event of fire . . . knock out glass /
of water
knock on wood.

grant it
do grant it.

:)
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