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mark john junor Jan 2016
safe in the fortress of my heart
i looked out on the mysteries of my world
reveled in the complex dance of lovers united in
burning desires and passionate loves
and then i heard a distant swansong
heard a distant love affair promised behind
such lovely phrases and alluring photographs
but as the truth of it resolved itself in minds eye
i could see it failing in the crisp moonlight
i could see its painful ending that
is as sure as a rising sun
that it would leave me
in a dire thirst
a depleted soul

please pull me away from this swansong
this enticing tale
for its sweetness clings to me
its promised loveliness and beauty
are only facade for such a dark and lonely place
i will end up believing such a tale
i will fall victim to such a beautiful thought
and the swansong will be spread to yet another
lover torn from the worlds complex dance
of true beauty and love

safe in the fortress of my heart
this dire tale sweeps up against me
trying to wear me down
i call out that others should be aware
i cry out that others should see
this swansong so pretty and beguiling
is such a dark thing
i will hold out for the dawn
i will stay true to my love
and there i will breath easy a summer's day
in there i will find loves true tale
loves complex dance of passion and desire
i will once again dance happy and free
with all the other lovers wrapped in
the warmth of our passions
mark john junor Jan 2016
her endless summer dream
gathers dust on its sand encrusted photo of
beach blanket love affairs

jet planes departing for distant lands
she had her five and dime sunglasses
and a transistor radio
tuned to the cheerful forever summer song
still has that picture of her in the fall of 66
hamming it up for the camera with her Stanley
he passed a while back

now she shuffles up along the seawall
with her big hat and her bags
candy for little ones
a kiss on the cheek for the nice
young man who brings the paper
its miami in febuary
its endless summer
its brighton beach's southside
and i know ill have to stay
mark john junor Jan 2016
her single shot pistol is smoking as you walk in
her blushing bride smile is a dead give away
that something is amiss
he left a ballroom waltz
worth of footprints all over her smile

she persuades you to rent a buick '
and take the pursuit on the road
so the three of us head south on the us-1
to some strange beachside town
where all the girls are bubble gum machines
and the boys are paint by number boxing fans
but we finally catch the thin fatman
sitting on a beach-chair
sipping tea
and lookie-louing yachts from nantucket

she kisses and makes up with him
and you know that your romantic days are over
and she gives no reason but she got a soft spot
for his three piece suit lifestyle
brooks brothers got nothing on him
he gets his threads form the five and dime
pockets full of pickles
bread in his thinning hair
mark john junor Jan 2016
pale as a whispered winter wind
she sat in the amber glow of the streetlight
with her cascading delicate blonde hair disheveled
her blue eyes distant
gaze out the window to the fierce winter night
between theatrical sobs spins out the tale
of her sorrows
pointing with a trembling hand at the
windswept streets
the story of a perfect love frail but pure
the story of beautiful ways and warm embraces
but along the way she had lost him
and all track of her intimate dreams
now she paints seascapes grey and foreboding
now she sketches raindrops on a summer day
mark john junor Jan 2016
but she was handwritten in a digital world
her eye fixed on jacob's sweaty ladder
because always gotta climb over the corpse of yesterday
she had the worldly sense about her
the grand sweeping gesture
to encompass all seen and all implied
to show your heart is in it for the long haul

he watched her struggle so strong
his long eyes from the fortress of his face
such iron willed bravery
she pours out the litany of reasons
like pouring out a delicate wine
threadbare clothes speak of a life of labors


the field of her heart once tilled with bountiful crop
once filled with the joyous sounds of laughter at harvest
so much ventured to come to such an end
his blackened heart has time for tales of the sun
her dreams sweep you up in their turbulent elegance
where all else that transpires is illusion
while for that brief flicker of time
you learned what it means to really live
for the first time
what its like to have your soul long for
mark john junor Jan 2016
in the spanish quarter
her eyes fixed on the dim light passage
as she awaits the coming hand of deceptions
with her recital of whispers like a prayer
she sweats openly
to her its a pressure point at the breaking
its a devils delight in the black heart of evil men
so as the wick of her flame clings to its purpose
as it burns true to pure
as you knew it would
you sit by her side
wait out the hours
forsake the dawn it never comes to this desolate place
forsake all trust love hope
they fled this desolate place
stand for who you are
stand for rights victory over wrong
truth even if it means your death
mark john junor Jan 2016
beheld by the timid heart with hopeful intent
any life seems both bold and beautiful
seems to be the essence of perfection
desirable and meant to be bound up with true loves gifts
but such dreams are fleeting and swiftly abandon the dreamer
leaving the coarse and the cold reality's behind
but there is the crux of it
can the dream survive the dreamer waking
can the dream stand strong in the walking worlds light of day
when i held her as that dreamer i knew her
when i awoke her beauty still filled me
when i awoke my love for her overflowed my heart
such dreams heal our souls
such dreams give life meaning
i beheld with my timid heart a beautiful dream
and when i awoke that dream was alive
and kissed me
now my heart is bold
now i live
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