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mark john junor Oct 2014
shes as beautiful as sweetest sin
wicked as any girl has ever been
***** girl with the naughty naughty nightie
mark john junor Oct 2014
we skipped stones into steel boxes
we sheltered pretty songs from dark nights
we were strong as the sun
we were men of the concrete woods
hammer in hand we smashed stone
hearts in mystery we broke natural laws
gave voice to the unspeakable
made us stronger men
stood on the boulevard and saw the world fall
we brushed back the lace curtain
stood in the pitch black and watched moonrise
with younger eyes and it made us men
wills entwined striving to conquer
striving to find
we were men of shadows
we were men of light
as we skipped stones into steel boxes
and struggled with our demons
we were men of shadows
stronger than the sun
(for stuttering phil and all my other old friends)
mark john junor Oct 2014
fragile heart she lay ruptured in my lounge chair
grey faced i mumble a few parting words over her
before i lay out the finest bone china
all the makings of tea and biscuits
all the fixings of ******
with the sounds of the snapping of necks
sharp wet sound fresh on the air
she was here to mourn her lover-boy
gone astray
i was here to see the deed done

i was the grey faced hangman
come to get his pennys
in my song you can hear the rope snap
in my heart you can feel the fall from the gallows
and my hangman's noose swinging in breeze
has its own peculiar creaking sound that sounds
like love to me
i was the grey faced hangman
that knows no sympathy
come now you wicked ones
sing my song with me

grey faced i lead the procession
up the graveyard road
the overgrown and thick summer feel to it
claws at the senses
but i keep walking stiffly
with the sound
of snapping necks ringing in my ears
its my song

he had cried like a child as they carried him to the gallows
he had begged and wailed
but my hangman's noose had claimed him
cold comfort awaits
to the tomb they cried out with joy
to the tomb with the scoundrel
while she lay weeping her lost lover-boy
and while grey faced i cleansed the world
of scoundrels like him
while grey faced i silently mourned
for i had run out of rope
(a little halloween for you)
mark john junor Oct 2014
her paint by number love affair
was planned down to his kisses
was everything she expected it to be
wasn't long before truth showed
it was a love like a paper flower
but it would never grow never thrive
it was just ink and paper rendering of
what could have been
her paint by number love affair
so sad and forlorn
pasted there on the wall
like child's keepsake
gives no warmth holds no future....
paint by number lovers
never argue
never cheat
hollow smiles carry no joy
meaningless pleasures under the covers
meaningless words that have no answer
paint by numbers love affairs so easy
so hollow
sad and forlorn
mark john junor Oct 2014
this noisy head i live in
it just never quiets down
theres some motherf#@ker screaming at two am
about some unpaid bills or parking tickets
and some other idiot going on and on about some girl that left
somebody is always throwing trash out in the common area
little bits of some ancient relationship
small parts of some old mystery
just want to tell em all ''will you all please shut up"
stop that godawful freakin racket
some fool on the roof shouting poetry just when your drifting off to sleep
another idiot in the basement throwing monkey wrenches in the works
always somebody causing some kind of ruckus
just want to scream
"can we PLEASE get some peace and quiet for five minuets"
this crazy head i live in
i want to move
to some nice quiet country house
where you never hear a sound
peaceful with birds chirping
where i can get some rest
not this confounded noisy head i live in
not this apartment building of lunatics i call a mind
(do me a favor...shut up)
mark john junor Oct 2014
she seems like a saint in my dark moments
as she graces me with her gentle smile
because her nomadic heart came to rest for
a butterfly's moment within my grasp
and with noble intent i heart and soul to her attentions
so she unsticks my head
with her own road of good intentions

she is tender in my wilderness
placing small acts of cataclysm in my path
to dislodge my mud filled head
and with her devices nailed to my mind
it is easier to think so i think

so with her delighted mind she tinkers
with my comfort zone
trying to find the greasy spoon
that i eat my metaphysical meals with
leaves me hungry for words
when it comes time to put pen to paper

my head full of mud
grapple with the notions of her divinity
but the weight of thinking too much
keeps me from doing freestyle take to wing
so it is me that must unstick
from her influences
and her rubber band heart
that keeps bouncing back
mark john junor Oct 2014
a woman's lust is as carnal as any man's
but has desires of the heart to match
necessary as breathing to have both....
the soft line of her body speaks to me
her eyes burn hot with meanings heartfelt
powerful desire to caress her lovely features washes over me
wanting and being wanted little game we play silently
she is feasting on my blatant lust
heart knowing the beauty of being desired so deeply
wanting to be wanted is its own fantasy furrowing deep in her *****
but a woman's lust is love's strength and body's craving in the same breath
true beauty is found when the two desires meet
when a woman's heart finds the heat of her lust
gives herself to it and takes it by strength of will at the same time
i feel it in her hard embrace while she softly caresses
her soft skin devours my mind
salted hot lustful
run my bare hand over its velvet warmth
and her silken skin speaks to me in
ways only a man can taste with his soul
...her pale thin lips dangerous...eyes closed
kiss long wet deep gentle hard hot
she bites lower lip soft with anticipation
by the nearness of me
i can feel her deep lustful breathing faster longing
her bare skin sets me on fire
her eyes drug me
her soft lips silence me
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