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 Sep 2016 Lucy Carter
Jay 1988
In and old abandoned corn shed
Where men calve lumps of stone
Sitting in some old abandoned corner
Young Johnny sits all alone
See Johnny's wife, she left him
For some Sacramento stud
Now his tears they hit the corn shed floor
While the stones wash in his blood

In a down town whisky bar
Where the drinks will bring you down
Make you feel like you've won the fight
But there's no one else around
Sit's a beautiful woman who has no place to go
But a thousand down town men that want to take her home

But a village by the name of Palmetto
Where the lanes are named the same
Lived beautiful young Louisa
Who made my heart beat lame
And for all the worlds riches now seem worthless
Like nothing could ever rise above this
But when she stands there waiting with those shot-gun lips
My eyes they travel from her jawbone to her hips
She asks me to come in and make a sacrifice
Leave my heart on the doorstep to paradise

Soft kisses in the night, softly and with such despair in those eyes
whispers stay here with me tonight, stay with me at least until sunrise
So i carry the cross of David
For all those worshipers tonight
For all the children with no food to share
or those who've just lost sight

As we walk up those stairs i made a promise to keep her safe
Now i'm covered in her beauty but simply lost in all of her faith
 Sep 2016 Lucy Carter
Jay 1988
The soft kiss of your lips, it felt like I’d been born all over again
You’d never been kissed before; those were the words that you said
And in the shelter of the shadows that were hiding from the sunlight
In the middle of the world, you were always there by my side
Close your eyes and take a breath, feel the electric
Darling I can hold you tight, and promise this kiss you’ll never forget it
We were just two desperate lovers, with youth on our side
Caught up in the moment, so beautiful the street beggar cried
Wishing she was youthful again and remembering the feeling
Of her own first kiss some moons ago beneath the run down school hall ceiling

Time she moved fast, is anything this good really meant to last ?
Your kiss is still mine, and for your sweet love, I still pine
I was besotted by the thought of you and you make me kind of crazy
Tell me I can kiss your lips once more, tell me pretty lady
I aint good enough to be your man and is this just a joke
You were an angel in my wildest dreams emerging from the smoke
And months they passed our silence grew as we ran out of things to say
When all we ever did before was French kissing night and day
The honeymoon periods over, pack up your bags and run
I said I’m sorry Maria, it’s all been kind of fun
But we don’t have that much in common when it’s all said and done
And maybe I was caught in the moment thinking my first kiss was the one
I walk down the same street, past the spot where we first kissed
And now and then I glance over and see our ghosts caught in the bliss
Of an eternal love locked kiss
 Aug 2016 Lucy Carter
Arcassin B
By Arcassin Burnham


How did it feel when you took her and made her
Understand that you were the one who cared and
Showed her more compassion?
How did it feel when you've noticed all her
Imperfections letting her go off into the sunset in
A paper town?
How did it feel?
Oh! How did it feel?
Watching over her like the hawk, making sure she'd text back,
Back......

How did it feel when you told her all of those things
Before she ran off and never came back?
How did it feel when you looked for clues and letter boxes
Going on a journey just to see if she'd turn up,
How did it feel?
Oh! How did it feel?
Watching over her like the hawk, making sure she'd text back....
One day, one day.
©ABPoetry2016

http://arcassin.blogspot.com/2016/08/when-quentin-kissed-margo.html
Our dangerous tour,
skirting the precipice of love,
seeking the open loop
where limbic resonance
offers relief, guidance,
tangential reminders
of what is to come,
finding heart rhythms
that dance and sway
to eternal breaths,
deep and warm,
life giving winds
that burst through
the static of anonymity
to give us a glimpse
of unimaginable memories,
past, present and to come,
as we lay open together,
still, kissing, purring, caressing,
and bearing witness
to the healing glow
of warm, widening gazes,
transforming withered embers
into unspeakable gifts.
He lays down **** like a shadow
Thrown by a movie spotlight
He eats passion like he is
******* the juices of the last peach on Earth
He walks proudly like a naughty child
Who made a clean escape
He talks integrity like a lion
With a human child in his mouth
He pushes imagination like
A clown in a silent temple
He lays down ****
And it’s all over me
 Aug 2016 Lucy Carter
The Calm
Beware the wolf
He Hunts, at night
On top the mountain he howls
His eyes aglow under the moonlight

Beware the wolf, his teeth red with blood
The taste of flesh, the smell of fear
He preys, he overpowers like a flood

Beware the great grey wolf,
All Hail the King of the Pack
The leader, the destroyer
He is the one leading the attack
 Aug 2016 Lucy Carter
Jay 1988
It was never enough; my love was never good enough they said
For you, for you, for you
You were the daughter of a father who, would never let us be
I was the lover of a daughter who fell in love with me
Secret nights we spent together, beneath the summer rain
Secret nights I sat alone in my room wondering if I will see you again
But those warm nights in the empty town when there’s no one else around
When our hands kiss and our lips stroke and your breath is the only sound
I would open my eyes and see, the girl who haunts my dreams
If you ever open your eyes enough you’d see nothing’s ever quite as it seems
If I could hold you forever I’d pull you close to me
If I had the strength my love I’d pull so hard until you became one with me
And if you only remember a few words I spoke, when you sit alone in your room
Remember the promise I made when I said my love was for you, for you, for you

We were forever growing older, but nothing moves that fast, I beg for your hand but you told me
Daddy said it would never last
Run away with me, I’ll run right by your side, and our feelings that shame us, we’d no longer hide
Open hands in the day time, and walks along the beach, and when the winter storm clouds gather, we can shelter out of reach,
Far away from the cynics, from all the doubters in the town, we’d just be two silent lovers in the downpour, with all our love around
Maybe we would stay together, then again maybe we won’t,
But we’ll always keep on guessing my love if our chance to take, we don’t
Look at us sitting here, you’re a lover, I’m a fool
But remember those promises I made when I promised my love was for you, for you, for you
<>

"having found a white coal seam amidst the black bunting
that decorates their glum apprehension of tomorrow's tidings"^


the computer tablet recognizes as I essay,
                                                          ­                        the "tomorrow" word
as possessing a reality, with time sensitivity,
please,  somebody help us, almost

an inevitability

the possibility of a realizable event,
                           as if the poem composing was
the future's assuming a 99% probability,           right ready for scheduling

offering me two choices:
create event or view calendar?

as if the next shooting, bombing,
and my glum apprehension thereof,
as if ''tomorrow's" tidings were mine own doing
of my undoing,
somehow my fears create or anticipation of
the "next one" makes me a guilty part

my heart cracking with despairing moans
knowing that this is foolishness

but  
              not to me

for as we think upon it, that tiny extra precaution,
'tis already the small death of me
each death a cut in the same spot,
and the pestering wound ground deeper, bone closer

find myself
jailed in a place with no view, insecure and unprotected

no view, no window to crack, no window no view
no to letting  in fresh air, hope or something good,
and yes to no,
I know about this and that and words
intended to offer up optimism,
albeit on a small scale

I am careful not to mock
the words and those who offer up

but seriously,
don't

I came to,
I came to this place to write
only love poetry silly love songs
and some black angel sideswiped me in the left lane
writing now in stead of ways I'm dented and unforgiving
feeling stoopidly foolish            even as
I try and I try to find the seed germane to the connectivity between the horror hallmarks of these times and the ******* window is just stuck stuck stuck

I'll think I'll change my name,
honestly,
only love poetry? cries out ridiculous

this is no poem, more a teacher's note of surrender,
                                                       come back with a new identity or just a new field of endeavor

so I put that on my calendar for tomorrow
and it appears right away, right after:

6:00 am Check on Glum Apprehensions
and it appears that I'm too late

confirming I've missed my appointment so too late for my kind of tomfoolery.             and that white seam, glimpsed but not grasped, illusion noxious,, I can't seem to locate it anymore
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