Necklace

JULIA: I love the rubies of evening. Don’t you?
TOM: Sometimes. Sometimes the waves crash against you too hard.
JULIA: Relationships of the sea. We’re all sailors!
TOM: Some of us, sad searchers.
JULIA: Do you ever think about heartbreak? A wound?
TOM: I think about romantic movement!
JULIA: Beautiful heartache. Beautiful like the stars at night!
TOM: A concert of tears. Not always sad. But always love.
JULIA: Love. That storm at sea. I wonder.
TOM: Wonder about what?
JULIA: Just I wonder.
TOM: Crashing against rocks. Kisses delicate. Steady compass?
JULIA: Lover bound!
TOM: Navigating together against sand.
JULIA: Foreign winds can shake the boat!
TOM: Steady happiness. Unique only to them.
JULIA: Sounds like that’s how it should be.
TOM: And those rocks.
JULIA: Love at sea.
TOM: Those weary travelers. Some never leaving shore.
JULIA: Some never looking above at night.
TOM: A rainbow tempest!
JULIA: Lover bound!

© Matthew Goff

I saw her conducting sunlight
A sweating orchestra
Temperature theatre
The performance starting to melt
©

Towards love my thoughts run high
But with regards to women
in seeking their embraces
through pursuit never I
No, my desires speed through the trees like cats
With one girl in mind
I stalk the idea
with feline and fierce appetite

© Matthew Goff

Evening descends upon them
And romance falls
Amusement park kissing
Adolescent waves crash
Love soaring through young skies
©

I, a lover obsessed, tonight again despise
Need I endure a thousand deaths each time?
I know my pain is well deserved and
Like blades tie down an equal right
To balance this heart against this life

*** lights up an empty mind but
Unlike mine enslaves equal time

Naked actress are you from my tribe?
Company of lovers cast aside for
Spilling sensual rhythms in their strides

The ****** heart plays a part divine
Although confusion sleeps in the sublime
****** spent too many different times

Our bodies enslaved under this disguise
Longing for someone else’s touch tonight
Misunderstanding in pursuit of empty skies
Oh *** instead of leaving you behind
Color my thoughts with rainbow light

© Matthew Goff

The altar in my church rests invisibly beside her lips and I begin all my prayers inside her mouth. This is where I worship the divine. And this is where I feel most at home. While kissing, I can feel saliva waves splash our senses. And everything takes on the quality of water.
© Matthew Goff

She wears a necklace of *** dynamite
And love detonates the day
Conversations ignite
And honesty is spilled like water
©

Above all let’s escort desire into loving waters
Our prayers will suffice among the waves
Celebrating in kisses our gentle revolt
Putting faith in the tides and our wet embrace

Liquid churches you might say
float along the ocean
We who throw parties in the sea-spray
are known for our fluid devotion

© Matthew Goff

Warm and white pillows on a bed of black night
I lie awaiting only you, nocturnal angel princess of secret flights
Over the clouds shall leap our light hearts and our eyes
Hand in hand in rescuing youth away the two of us will fly

O youth in tears over memories of pure delight
Hide not your face but let it shine this time
In the funeral of adulthood swine my right!
In kissing you I proclaim this precious life divine

© Matthew Goff

I can’t help but think of silk roads in her hair, that lead to some form of bliss.
©

Always Her Lover

Like a dark-blue angel I walk these streets asleep
Spilling water-thoughts for my sky-blue girlfriend
And with much ease splashing about a serious desire
To express the fluidity in my style of loving her

With her pale-white precious face of a place
Upon that space the moon introduced a sister-image
And in winter’s name with delicate snow-like fame
Dressed my lover’s hands in white cotton gloves

© Matthew Goff

Sunshine girlfriend
Held her hand through the blonde waves of the afternoon
Daytime explosion
The warmth of her clothing
It’s sensual sunlight
©

Lazy turquoise trembling
Just a saying
“You’re just lazy turquoise trembling”
Not sure what it means
But the night rains green
And fear is brushed aside
You’re just lazy turquoise trembling
©

Once ago a time perfect and not only mine but
ours! A love designing sublime rebellion shined!
Days when our kisses held the potential for
avalanches do you recall a faint trembling sign?

The years away from us but that integrity still
inside! A search for those who breathe romantic enterprise!
Nights when smiles meet in agreement toward
best planning the adventure in each other’s eyes!

© Matthew Goff

And if I go down in flames, let me go down in a freedom reflecting upon your laws a ferocious flower, staining the moment that you gave birth to hypocrisy!
©

The ****** Versus Everything in its Mirror

I personally know very little about ***. Virtually nothing. That is speaking purely of physical *******. Still, I can speak forever of worlds that soft sparks construct in a single kiss. It is here, in the palace of naive angels tender and young, that a nervous heart beats the sweetest trembling of rhythms in the day’s surprise. It is from these voices of subtle breaths, in the immediacy of experience, that I have found a language most akin to absolute philosophy in momentary bliss. A language spoken only through the silence of smiles. A universe of colors shared by the adolescent chameleon in our souls.

© Matthew Goff

I could appreciate her today. I had been watching those golden gestures compliment the frame of elegant houses. And for moments alone on a reflective sidewalk, I had forgotten what my face looked like. Yes, she was a whistler of pastel importance. A type of language only significant when the island pores of sensitive humans bleed open shamelessly and without counsel for their tears. The afternoons have a style all to their own, and I remember glass.

© Matthew Goff

While on a beach, when she kissed me with the urgency of a sensitive poison, I could not help but scatter across the shore-lengths, the households of my heart, allowing room only for the remedy, I looked beyond her and forgot to make room for her smile, that went unnoticed fading as a shadow on my face.

© Matthew Goff

Are you anxious, my dear evening? Are you not my closest friend? (Where is your cousin, my memory?) Can you not wait until that one afternoon, when we will pounce upon the horizon, like cats in heat, and tear the sun apart limb from limb? We will leave its sensitive shine to sweat upon pathetic days no more! Yes, the evening is a villain I’m proud to call my friend. Her ways allow much more room in the playground for mischievous  lovers, than those dull afternoons spent thinking about breathing. Where is your cousin, my memory? She has served a type of convulsively appreciative use for my feelings and continues to parade around my daydream swing set. Nonetheless, she has always remained a spectral participant in my life, pregnant with regret, and punctures my comfortableness with the sweetest of stings, leaving a taste with me she knows I’ll never forget.
© Matthew Goff

She combs pink planets through her hair
Galaxy girlfriend face
It’s space travel there and everywhere
Saturn question and comet care
Strangers tread lightly
©

After having spoken awhile of the predatory smiles that wake her from the bottom of a cup in porcelain sleep, the polite guests that convinced her that they too be included in the tea games, played by a thousand gold lions that prance upon the wooden clocks in her dreams, ripping them to pieces and having let bled a spill of mechanical works with insane parts, furiously looking for the history in which they will piece themselves back together, I once again fell under the spell of this profession, trained in breaking glass.

© Matthew Goff

Inside the day, convulsions sweep me within the circular tide, whose currents endlessly root themselves along the shores of disappointing sentiments. Abandoning a singular precision, in using reverie with a blade to carve out the jewels with splendid contour, fashioned after the exquisite role of the past, I have failed to attract the elegant throats around which I stalk the beautiful endlessly.

© Matthew Goff

Waves crash like your dreams
Changing and always rolling toward the shore
Loves are sea splattered
Your smiles are beach drenched
Seaweed in your hair
And you present a mystery
©

I know of pink corners in the mind: Forest of sweet perfumes, whose travelers lend a hand to the ******* of sunset and its nervous mapping of amateur stars. There is a moment’s history in the certainty of salivating worlds: An odyssey for lovers who play cards at night and whose ideas for strategic foreplay are used like stilts. Hovering over a table, soaked with invisible juices, they are found flirting with each other’s secret personalities—heirs to the hormonal vibration of wet thoughts.

© Matthew Goff

Nocturne in Butterflies

I am part of a secret race of bedfellows who, while draped in the rose linen of sleep, lash out at the dawn, a suffering enterprise, with a multitude of blinks, signaling revenge to the moon, my ally, which in the sized light of the sun, we can no longer see, yet, waiting until it sneaks up on the horizon, like an uninvited guest, our dreams will conspire in unison, like an army of winged blades, decapitating it in its own shine, leaving its bleeding fluid to sweat upon a flower, we will let it put butterflies to sleep!

© Matthew Goff

Herself

Every night I lay into a pink sleep, which is the secrecy of her arm’s love for me. There is a solace for me in her eyes… if only I could live in their reflections forever! A landscape of exploding glass-works, that trickle wet stories down her beloved face. Into my dreams, they will fire an inscription of dazzling intimacies, in soft-blue storms of light. I want to run away with her down private roads, that glisten with the unrest of heartbeats.

© Matthew Goff

Herself

Every night I lay into a pink sleep, which is the secrecy of her arm’s love for me. There is a solace for me in her eyes… if only I could live in their reflections forever! A landscape of exploding glass-works, that trickle wet stories down her beloved face. Into my dreams, they will fire an inscription of dazzling intimacies, in soft-blue storms of light. I want to run away with her down private roads, that glisten with the unrest of heartbeats.

© Matthew Goff

Rose

o rose
you must be tired of bad manners
o rose
you must like that the trains come often
o rose
you must wonder why people move so fast
o rose
you must enjoy the naked girls falling from the trees
o rose
the trains are always coming fast, competing with cheetahs
o rose
that’s how it’s always been

© Matthew Goff

She had shifted me ten degrees, to the right, from the sight of a cat dangling a villain from the roof. Its tiles had soon adjusted to my position now, configuring in unison to the discomforting moaning of breath sneaking out from the closet bedroom window. These roof-tiles now reflected ten different expressions on my face at once. “making up for lost time, eh?”, the villain stated generously.

© Matthew Goff

Her heart dances through innocence
A young girl plays with her spider
Her mother Judith calls out to her among a sea of responsibility
Lily responds with her dreams

A mother dreams herself of happiness for them
A daughter being sick for years
She still chases flowers and youth shines
Yet there are serious waves

© Matthew Goff

People walking down the street,
Spilling pink makeup in beautiful designs
People walking down the street,
Collecting wind-blown leaves and directions
People walking down the street,
Exchanging sensual greetings
People walking down the street,
And pass by rainbow symbols
People walking down the street,
Contemplating dirt

© Matthew Goff

When my friends talk of contentment, many of times I have dreamed of a house where pink angels lay down to rest from an evening they swore would never let them rest again, until every moment was covered in a glaze of unspeakable spice. A treasured necklace discovered around a wax doorknob, choking a mysterious day, when most people resort to lashing into an unforgettable sleep.

© Matthew Goff

When my friends talk of contentment, many of times I have dreamed of a house where pink angels lay down to rest from an evening they swore would never let them rest again, until every moment was covered in a glaze of unspeakable spice. A treasured necklace discovered around a wax doorknob, choking a mysterious day, when most people resort to lashing into an unforgettable sleep.

© Matthew Goff

The Broken Angel of Slow *** Flight and Her Impossible Audience

The broken angel of slow *** flight
Walked up to the store with rock and roll in her heels
In front of drunk men
She belted out a few lines of a seventies classic
Her singing wild and ***** as her body
A crazy street person they would say
As she caringly petted the store owner’s dog
Looks of mild contempt were her thanks
And yet her love flowed
Some foreign heart untouched by ordinary ignorance
She stayed awhile and tried to make friends
Mostly ignored, except for the occasional glance one has towards a circus show
Performing and yet not performing
She lifted up her shirt for some reason to reveal her stomach
She had the free sexuality of a playful stripper
And then she spun out again in another direction
After awhile she left
With a genuine smile for everybody

The reason for her visit was unclear
But she was tagged a ***
And there was some relief that she was gone
How can a person’s apparent vocation cloud the stars they explode for you?
A slow firework blew by the store and is seen like the dirt under our shoes
Whereas we wear our boredom like a crown
And hold others to the same so-called normal criteria  
We call her a ***
But envy the rebel ruby of her freedom

© Matthew Goff

Separation

Spread my limbs
Across a globe
Dipped in gels
Like laughter swells,

For the dawn
Whose shadows stick
To a country’s search
For misplaced bones

A scorned people see
The sea’s exchange
Of sound degrees
For tides at ease

© Matthew Goff

Evening princess,
Her slow falling tears tell a story of mystery
Known for her beauty and rebel portrait
Picking the stars for earrings
Evening princess,
Unique night jewelry girl
Sincere kissing and toasting love in the moonlight
Vulnerable romantic and ocean necklace

© Matthew Goff

Evening princess,
Her slow falling tears tell a story of mystery
Known for her beauty and rebel portrait
Picking the stars for earrings
Evening princess,
Unique night jewelry girl
Sincere kissing and toasting love in the moonlight
Vulnerable romantic and ocean necklace

© Matthew Goff

Paul sat next to Sara on a school trip. He was slowly falling in love with her like a soft explosion waterfall. There was something about watching her put on makeup, that made him think of a Pre-Raphaelite painting and the Psychedelic Furs. Each eyelash was a future kiss. Her quiet beauty and silent rebellion.

© Matthew Goff

Paul sat next to Sara on a school trip. He was slowly falling in love with her like a soft explosion waterfall. There was something about watching her put on makeup, that made him think of a Pre-Raphaelite painting and the Psychedelic Furs. Each eyelash was a future kiss. Her quiet beauty and silent rebellion.

© Matthew Goff

The fierce winds that split fragile columns blow back cerebral gusts into the architecture of fantasy. The palace of intellect withstands an avalanche with its armies of random faith. They are the soldiers prepared to defend thought. They also serve our temporary foundations. A building is blind with its empty rooms. Such realities cannot construct themselves while emotional tigers tear at the linen curtains of air. This animal needs to become a seamstress. We must learn how to sew our designs carefully and part from the claws of our subject if we are ever to express its grasp on us. Life tends to manage our divine center the way hurricanes play with dust.

© Matthew Goff

Evening princess,
Your feet are covered in sand and wishes
Songs to make the adventure sweet
Evening princess,
Looking at people with flowers in her mouth
Sandcastle symphony of stars

© Matthew Goff

Evening princess,
I think of you while swinging from clouds
And holding your favorite flowers
Evening princess,
Your ruby realizations
Tell a story of reckless love
Evening princess,
Take your pretty bow to the stars
Evening princess,
You smash the glass of convention

© Matthew Goff

Blonde the Muse

Streaked by the hours of moonlight
She sweats upon a rooftop cradle
A slow showering of heated liberation
As I swing along the fragile nesting of ivory branches
Stretched under the magnificence of her stability

And let her mouth, that soft vessel
Divide the gentle tide with a smile
That casts upon the crest of evening water
Two halves of a seashell

And let our embrace, soften the cool air
That parades around us, shedding secrets from our hair
And let me hold that hand that trembles
When the evening undresses us
With a yellow wink

© Matthew Goff

Streets are wet with tears
Lipstick guiding sister smiles
And she combs sadness
©

Streets are wet with tears
Lipstick guiding sister smiles
And she combs sadness
©

I Walk By

I walk by,
And never hear the word “***” uttered
I walk by,
And am surprised when people are polite
I walk by,
And people are moving too fast
I walk by,
And see people frowning in the rain
I walk by,
And see a crown of realization
I walk by,
And see a ritual of snow
I walk by,
And see confusing umbrellas in the snow
I walk by,
And there’s a convention with a zillion people. I sit next to people cursing

© Matthew Goff

I Walk By

I walk by,
And never hear the word “***” uttered
I walk by,
And am surprised when people are polite
I walk by,
And people are moving too fast
I walk by,
And see people frowning in the rain
I walk by,
And see a crown of realization
I walk by,
And see a ritual of snow
I walk by,
And see confusing umbrellas in the snow
I walk by,
And there’s a convention with a zillion people. I sit next to people cursing

© Matthew Goff

Sondra goes to a bar, and at some point during the evening requests that a sonata be played, the bartender looking surprised says “I don’t have anything like that”, Sondra reaches into her coat pocket and hands the bartender a cd saying “track 4 please”, the bartender lets the current song finish and then plays the cd, it’s Haydn, and the people in the bar start to look shocked, a person goes up to her and says “you know there are places where they play this sort of thing, like restaurants”, Sondra replies “yes I know but I like coming to bars and listening to that music”, another person says “I like it too, it’s soothing somehow and different than what we always hear.”

© Matthew Goff

Smashing glass pretty faces evening sunsets wild failures and important questions, wild abandon adventures and swimming pool braveries, desperate lover knocks on the door with wild abandon jumps into the wet air, car crash of memories and experience, party at Paula’s house parents away and many escapes, meeting friends that are met with glowing excitement romances fit the evening with a candlelight kiss.

© Matthew Goff

A dancer was arrested one night
For stringing leopard skins across
The windowsills of houses whose
Inhabitants were all court officials

The bones however were left for the judge, that next morning displayed in the shape of his wife, leaning over the kitchen sink cleaning dishes for the breakfast  he never again would let her prepare, the meat was left for the jury to taste and decide if it was all worth it.

© Matthew Goff