George Anthony: Favorites

Mar 2017 George Anthony

Ma Cherie

Many moons,
have passed over my headpiece,
as you leave me behind,
in moondust & ashes each night,

You collect on the bookshelves,
I keep here,
collecting on hearts with your light,
dusting my world with your beauty,
diminutives in bits of the white,

This is not the end of the journey,
this a mere tiny part of the flight,
and I've not seen any more shiny,
or any star nearly as bright,

Though I am unable to see you now,
or touch your skin ever again,
or truly hear you with my ear,
I still miss you so my friend,

I know I cannot be near you now,
I cannot be where you are,
as you are but a twinkling light,
a brilliant & distant, star-

If it was not but for the moon dust,
my heart wouldn't,
be able to see you anymore either.

Ma Cherie © 2017

Idk inspired....and missing someone who has passed ❤ to you all! X - Ma Cherie!

#love #poetry #death #moon #stars #journey #moondust

Mar 2017 George Anthony

Cocoon

Mar 2017 George Anthony

Edward Coles

Cocoon

Somewhere, amongst the debris
of cigarettes after ***,
chemicals to induce sleep,
I forgot what it means to love.

I forgot what it means to breathe,
to sit still, and just be.

Somewhere, beneath these hooded seams
of solitude and well-versed grief,
beats a heart less cynical,
less tamed by vague distraction.

My nervous ticks and bad habits,
line of best fit for a near-hit
of satisfaction:

This is not enough, I know.
This is not nearly enough
to cool the bray of life
that still rattles meaning in my bones.

I forgot what it means to love,
what separates a house from a home.

Somewhere beyond this thirst
for brand-new words
is a gratitude for all that has been.
Every cliché holds a truth.

Every sentiment, a cocoon,
that I should lie so still inside

until I am wholesome,
until I am new.

C

Mar 2017 George Anthony

Guitar

Mar 2017 George Anthony

Denise huddleston

Guitar

I hold you tight up against my body
I take you with me even to the party

I rub you back and forth
Up and down from south to north

I love the way you sing hard and soft
I just can't keep my hands off

I pull you close
From coast to coast

You are beautifully sound
I will never pass you around

Magnificently perfect
You have all of my respect

You are my best friend
Till the end

Written by: Denise Huddleston

Mar 2017 George Anthony

Alcoholism

Mar 2017 George Anthony

Willow-Anne

Alcoholism

She’s more fun when she is drunk
At least…until she’s not
Because she’s puking in the toilet
And regretting her last shot

She’s more confident when she’s drunk
Gorgeous and ready to score
Until she looks in a mirror
And feels even uglier than before

She likes herself more when she is drunk
Until that feeling goes away
When she is so far beyond gone
That her self-hatred comes out to play

She’s happier when she’s drunk
All her issues leave her brain
But they all come crashing back at once
And cause her so much pain

She likes the world more when drunk
It’s filled with so much good
Until one little thing sets her off
And she hates it all more than she should

She likes life more when she’s drunk
Her mind for once feels still
Terrified of losing that feeling
She soon wants to end things with a pill

But she can stop any time she wants
Or so she’d have you believe
Because alcohol makes her seem so happy
That is, until all her friends leave

Edit: (3/10/17) Oh my goodness! I haven't logged on in a couple of days and boy did I miss a lot!
I am doing my best to respond to all your messages and comments now! Sorry for the wait!
Thank you all so much for such an overwhelming amount of love and support <3 You guys are amazing
For those of you who struggle with addiction of any kind, hang in there, and I hope you all find the help and support you need <3
Best wishes to you all. And thank you again <3

Edit: (3/11/17)
Alrighty, so I just got a very long message that without going too into details accused me of poking fun at alcoholism with this poem. I would just like to be very clear that this poem was in no way inteaded to make fun of the illness that is alcoholism, and if it came off that way to anyone else, I am truely truely sorry. Words can not express that enough for I very much wished the opposite intent. Alcoholism (and addiction in general) is a very serious illness that I take very seriously. I sinceraly hope that anyone who is struggling with it gets the help they need and those of you who are in recovery, I am proud of you. Stay strong and continue to work towards it <3
Once again, my sincere apologies again to anyone who was offended.
Love to you all <3 - Willow-Anne

Mar 2017 George Anthony

In the garden of stones

Mar 2017 George Anthony

r

In the garden of stones

Her touch is as cold
as the snow on statues

I wait in my dark suit
like a suitor in the shadows

cast in the courtyard of the dead
alone in the middle of the night

she shows her folded hands
holding the Ace of sorrows

black like the flowers
I bring her tonight

beneath a silent moon
gathered like dust on my boots

late in the afternoon
as I walked along the low road

to call on her
in the garden of stones.

Nov 2016 George Anthony

Drinking from the blue jar of time

Nov 2016 George Anthony

r

Drinking from the blue jar of time

Some nights
the moon throws its light
like an old man
who can't hold his liquor in
and spits blood in the morning

Someone ought to kick some sense
into me, if they did I'd hum
like the body of a fiddle

I propose we all strip down
and take a swim with my friends
the dragonflies, but no one will listen
to what I have to say when I throw my voice
like an empty bottle deep in the forest

When I think of all the dark
and swift things of my rivers,
I wonder why time the old boot -
legger hides his maps and goes
on traveling the low roads

Alone I can tell you there is so much
beside the point of the thorn of the rose
and why the moon is with me always
whenever i choose to go it alone

I drink from that blue jar of time
and breathe the breath of sweet infants

Believe you me the dead shepherd
we sent up the river in a faraway land
in a time so long ago still holds us
all by the holes in his hands

You can see the dark clouds up ahead,
my cloisters I am always walking through them
with you children of the lost dreams,
and with you fifty-something snow-headed men

We have just collided with our lost sons
on the high road of morning, we are rising
dust like the dirt on our children's graves
saying nothing to our brothers the stones.

Nov 2016 George Anthony

Brown soles

Nov 2016 George Anthony

r

Brown soles

Love, be gentle and kind,
take that rusty gun from under
my pillow and shoot me twice
in the heart so I can feel the hurt
from the first time and the pain
from the second again;
but don't bury me in the dirt
beneath your bare feet,
just burn me like the memory
of your brown soles I saw
running away, oh, so long
a time ago, I can't even remember.