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mark john junor Jul 2016
tender is your daydream so sweetly dreamt
written with joyful colors and inks of a
heart cherishing the bright and intimate light of
loves enduring song
you hum the tune and i put words to it
true spoken endearment one lover to the other......
we build a sailing ship with the strength of our love
put the wild winds of our passion in the sails
we will find our paradise in eachother's bodies
lets run the fast waves in the sweet night
as we fold our self's into eachother's pleasures
lets be lost at sea to the world outside
within this cradle of the love
we are reborn to each breathtaking waking moment
in eachother's arm
mark john junor Jul 2016
midnight lived in her eye
shadows of which graced her words
with a tale of yearning to be told
one of the heat of her passions self-denied
one of heartfelt awe of the power love could hold
traveling this dark evening with naught but starlight to behold
with naught but the souls secrets to keep you warm
wrapped in the threadbare veil of the lies you tell yourself
fluttering in the ever present cutting wind
with great care unwrap the bandages of hurt you hold to your heart
with great pity unleash your hope for tomorrows dawn
it will begin with the glimmer in her dark
every soul must walk alone with midnight
before they can understand the breaking of daylight
feel its warmth with their soul
know the truth
you need never walk alone
mark john junor Jun 2016
if you were here
would you see me the same as you see me in my words
would your lovely soft lips recite with such
feeling the words you say
if you were here at my side
the crisp sun reveals more than just
picturesque lake and the perfections of paradise
how would you see me if you were
as naked before me as i am to you now
i am crying inside a river of hurt that seems to have no end
how would you see me if you were here by my side
i would see you as beauties soft hand
come to ease and hand to hold
this river is a teasing of darkness
come to shadow my door
it will pass
will you still be here with you soft words
how would you see me
if you stood before me with none of the words to obscure
would you hold my hand stranger
comfort me in my loss
if you could
be here without words to obscure
mark john junor May 2016
a spanish rose, she lingers in the corner
with some french sailor who is
just a breathing caricature
illustrated in ink and animated by alcohol
his four letter word vocabulary with deluxe cardboard delivery
but its his eyes that capture you
swimming in hundred proof they are
wise with miles of years
and wicked in a smoky dark room way
but she is too busy to notice
flirting with the stranger across the room
a traveling salesman with boxes
of rusty trinkets for crafty sale

meanwhile old jack is swinging on the gibbet
talking away the hours with his old flame and friends
he is a threadbare imitation of me
and that suits you fine
long as its three meals and a slice of pie
the essentials of easy living wrapped up in a lace hanky
its a little ***** and on the down low
but the whole digging in some
rich kids ***** laundry for loose change
never appealed to you all that much
so attached to old jack come to make your stand
both barrels smoking hot and ready to let loose
should any fool step to the line

we all watched with amusements
as the magician open his show with a shock and awe
that sputtered and fell
but we all loved his punch lines so much that we
cheered him on all night
the chorus girls got us all up and dancing little past three
and the suave singer had us cheek to cheek by dawn
it was another night to remember to be sure
memorable as stumpy swimming with the gators
we all shuffle barefoot in the sand
to our dusty beds
and dream sweetly of fiveash romance novella endings
and the beauties of dawn
we will be up to no good once more
all loud and proud
young and full'a *****
as a spring moon crests over seaside town
#love #romance #dance #devil
mark john junor May 2016
the painting was literal
figure hunched walking a dirt road in rain
its hues and tone spoke
mute but vividly
each brush stroke matched the images birthplace
in the authors crippled heart

each leaf a burnished gold of autumn
each a dying fragment of the withered tree
even the mans footprints in muddy soil
one can almost feel the squalid mud underfoot
his uniform and helmet named him a frenchmen
from the great war
his boots rendered with bloodstain

figure hunched walking dirt road in rain
a great dying had come to france that day
swords drawn they charged into deaths embrace
this man and his comrades in this awful place

the painting hangs in some museum
an awkward moment for the viewer
is he going into the storm of battle
or going home after
the tale is left untold
it is just the tale of a man on a road in the rain
a frenchmen in the world war
a lone figure in rain
re-write of old piece
mark john junor May 2016
there in the imperfect silence of night
searching for embers of hope among the
burned bridges of your life
the driftwood theology of a wandering soul
wherever the tides take you
trying to find some token of salvation in
the star filled heavens
trying to find meanings in a grain of sand
as with any driftwood soul spend your days
searching for a shore to call your own
trying to find embers of hope in the
burning bridges of your life....
there in the imperfect silence of night
while you await sleep to overcome your busy busy mind
while you wait for the solace of letting go
drifting and dreaming
lost in the beautiful places that dreams take you
you find that the driftwood theology is a wonderful thing
carve your own inner beauty into the wood of the world
take the love i know you have in your heart
and give it as a gift to the world around you
and you will find that you are no longer driftwood
cast on the worlds stormy sea's
you will find you have always been home
right here in my heart
mark john junor May 2016
effortlessly we cut a rug in the beautiful moonlight
it was one of those perfect nights you never forget
among the starlight scattered and spinning on the dance floor
the sweet remains of our lovely night dancing
we wandered the soft side of night
in eachother's arms
it was like having a yearling heart all over again
it was like being in love for the first time all over again
with my head nestled on her bare shoulder
like discovering what it was
like being with a woman the first time
a long beautiful moment that lasted forever in my yearling heart
that wrote a lifetimes love affair just in
those precious moments in her arms
such is the intoxicating beauty that is my lover
such is the occult magic of womanhood
that i thirst so much for
that i adore so deeply
that is the root of all love poems
the beauty of a woman's heart
we wandered the soft side of night
in eachother's arms
dancing embraced  in eachother's love
forever more
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