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every time you look
at me my words light on fire,
i can't say a thing.
And your lips fall on vowels with such delicacy
As I try not to drown in this perilous sea,
With eyelids which rub raw and a heart like a drum
I'm not the one in your head; on the tip of your tongue,
So, try as I might, there's nothing to be said
There's no use in this fight: leave this poem for dead,
Skin still speckled with love-coloured bruises, I know
Though I shift in my seat, I would much rather go,
Loutish lover, with these words, I bid you adieu
This is the last sonnet I shall write for you.
I should "bulk up" on medication before winter hits,
except it's still going to happen.
Winter that is.
And I have no desire to be a
drug induced optimist or less than the
naturally "chemically imbalanced" piece
of garbage that I am.
No lust for the special snowflake zombie,
who staggers in a unique world; infinite
wonders.
I'm smiling as I write this;
but could someone please ask,
"Would you rather die than be happy?".
 Apr 2014 James Jarrett
KNOWER
My heart grows weary with the passing of each day as I sojourn on this seemingly endless voyage... a voyage through the seas and through the woods... through the hills that yonder stood....
Through dips and through  downs, it all comes around
And even still as my heart grows thin, there's this urge that grows within
A fire unkindled, a flame unfanned by mine own hands yet still it burns...
A flame so strong that it carries a song as it spews its embers throughout this cold September...

**(man it's cold & **** she's cold...)
Here's a little ditty which I wrote a while back.
The title's a bit of a cliché but I guess I've learnt to find the beauty in clichés :)

I hope you enjoy(ed)! :D
 Apr 2014 James Jarrett
Petal pie
Looks I was given, words received
Sunk in deep
I felt as much use as a chocolate teapot
As resilient as a glass hammer
Looking much like a dogs dinner
As fragrant as a refuse truck.
Insightful as a blind guide dog
Buoyant as a lead balloon
I sank deep

My bounce lost,
like a concrete trampoline
Lost my grip
like a fumbling toothless vampire bat
Feeling as welcome
as a fur coat worn
In a vegan cafe.

Now resurfacing
I know that there's no use
in contriving to feel bad.
I'm going to either
line my chocolate teapot
to make it work
or savour every bite of it!
the problem with
being a poet in love,
is that you savour
& trust each word your lover has
without  question.

we are simply in love
with bare literature,
spoken from the lips of someone we hold
in higher regard
than ourselves sometimes.

when you love a poet
each word you utter,
should be a piece of artwork

each sentence,
a highly thought out structure of awe and beauty to leave us seeping
in the warmth of your voice
caressing such fine words

so when deciding that you love someone,
who writes or reads
fill their souls with beauty, memories & truth especially,
for a poet's heart breaks at ease.
thoughts.
 Apr 2014 James Jarrett
r
As water is to cleansing rain
and heat as to burning flame,
so are you to me; the same.
My fiery rain.

Fill the gutter of my mind.
Fire the coal your heart has mined.
Burn me to the end of time.
Your fire does reign.

r ~ 4/1/14
See the teapot cat on the shelf,
What history has it seen and felt?.
Even though it ain't alive,
It still has the energy of history and time.
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