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I tell myself to like boys
But the way you look in that dress has overtaken my thoughts
The way it skips along your thighs
Inviting me to dance
The way in cinches at your waste
Calling me to wrap my arms around you

I tell myself to smile when boys talk to me
I encourage my heart beat to quicken when they hold my hand
But all I can think of is the way you look in that dress
The way it shows of the skin on your shoulders
The way your skin would feel under the soft pads of my fingertips
The way your hair falls down like a canopy
Beckoning for me to come closer

I tell myself that we can just be friends
But the way you look in that dress tell me friends will never be enough
I tell myself this is wrong
But how can the way I feel be wrong?
How can the butterflies that start in my stomach and erupt through my whole body be wrong?
How can the way you look in that dress
be wrong?
my life is like a stopwatch
just tallying up the time
i choose the downward spiral
over that vertical climb

i tried to go the mile
to keep up with my kind
i lasted just a while
then i fell behind

when my descent is final
who knows what i might find
maybe the top is topnotch
but the bottom is all mine
if you step in the ****
then you are bound to spread it
doing the ***** work
for the ******* who shed it

who is holding the spoon
here's your chance to stir it
let's forget the truth
spread the **** to blur it

if you play in the ****
then you are bound to regret it
when it covers you
then you'll finally get it
poetry is the reason
When dreams have reason they serve no purpose
When we dream we read another page in life's short story
Without a dream we are what we are
We just don't embrace imagination
When you wake in the morning and have no recollection of a dream
It has reason so no history
the heavy heart is a heathen
corrupter of better nature
committer of soul-treason

fueled by the miserable notion
that death is twilight
and life is dawn

to flight, to flail
to rage, to rail
to weep, to wail
to no avail

to unhope

and all of this minus the mercy

©Jason Cole
~

think again if you believe
light is but a rapid blur,
consider that the spark
that lives between
two lover-friends, is light
exchanged in slow fashion;
the slow burn of a campfire,
the sparkle of her passion,
the flicker of a candle,
whisperings of the starlight,
the way a moon beam
bends the tides,
and makes her eyes twinkle;
each my confirmation,
of light that moves
so satisfying slow,
allowing flames to ever grow
ever higher, higher,
kindling sparks into a fire,
for love that lasts
is not a spark alone...
no,
love’s passion is a bon fire,
a sunset setting sky aglow;
an ever-building slow,
to effervescent ether;
a gently flowing kiss,
a living, colored tapestry
of drifting twilight mist;
this the speed of light...
my heart’s desire,
mirrored in my lover’s eyes.

~

*post script.

love at the speed of sunsets and star gazing;
evenings spent round the campfire
with only the light of the fire,
the stars and that sparkle in each other's eyes...
falling in love, all over again!
Through our lives
We clamber up the mountain
All we have been stands behind us
All we are to be above
When we reach the summit we learn
the climb is struggle
The ascent into heaven is the reward
Ropes are an arbitrary constituent of
My often meandering campaign of self-sufficiency
Where often times I find myself wondering
If I were elected or selected for my role as the dejected

So the sudden appearance
Of this length of rope
Attached somewhere up above in obscurity
To dangle before me as innocently as a kids swing
Or as menacingly inviting as a 13 Loop hangman's noose

Timing is often the real hero
Or culprit
Of any grand production
Whether on the stage or in the simple act
Of oneself coming of age

With open eyes as I taste the lies
That had become so familiar to the script
That I never even trip
As the words  would slip
Lifeless and indistinguishable
From my hapless lip

There was a time as I wandered
Around the cracked and worn down
Asphalt parking lot in my mind
Seeking a parking spot and often finding
Naught- as once again the daily spin
Had ushered in
That loud and obnoxiously redundant crowd
Of oxygen-dependent hypocrites
That look and sound and think
Just like me

That then is the point where I begin
To accept that no parking spot exists
As I make the endless loops and twists
Assuming that I can convince myself
It's just my bad luck
To be looking left- as I drove right by
What obviously I must have missed

LIE... an absolute  lie !!

Right there in front of me like a flashing Neon traffic cone
So even if I close my eyes
To pretend that I don't recognize and realize
Its very existence
But I know and I saw  and I heard
It all... The very second that it occurred
As the blinding flash so intense
As to make me wince
As it penetrates my fragile human eyelids

I am there
So disengaging  the  useless gear
Setting the brake... For my stranded
Almost abandoned
Soul's sake

Killing the ignition as a form of contrition
Open the door and take the key... As if it were a part of me
Wondering what was the reason for
Being that a crowd of me
Would actually steal anything from myself
Wait a minute...
... I've already been doing that. A lot
A whole parking lot

I cannot stay here among the throng
For very long
Reminding me of just how wrong
A man can really be

I need to walk and walk
Let my inner voice and my fragile shell
Have a long past due talk
As a way to maybe break the spell '
So with a swift  backward glance
Gave to me that welcome chance....
... To see
That this was my lot in life
Where what I was leaving behind
was in fact...
Right there- right where it belonged Parked in the very parking spot
I had been looking for
That that I had had all along all along

A crowded mind
Makes it extremely hard to find
The power in taking the lead...
By helping out
That part of yourself that sometimes goes blind

There is not an easy fix or magic tricks
Or any color wax to fill in all the nicks
No school books or rule books
No tools hidden in some obscure nooks
That the ID or the EGO somehow always overlooks

So with wide open eyes
as
I'm walking
in circles
Endless circles
So when that rope materialized
Weary to the bone I'm so dreadfully tired

As if in quicksand I were mired

And so concerned
About the way my directions had turned
I continued determinedly onward
To work out the kinks and find the weak links

   Determined to identify
 As I learn to rely
On my ability to accept
That
To try is to try
Only I will ever know
The depth of that turn
Or the heights of my concern
Or when
I yanked myself
Back up to the surface

The circles that I now walk
Knowing that I have not a single clue
Where or which way I'm going
No sign posts or  monuments to mark the horizon

I'm noticing
That these circles as
I hold on to this rope
ARE
Getting smaller as to shorten the distance
Between the times I wallow in
The incendiary and intrusive and abusive
As the future will be
Filled with those inconclusive reasons why
Across this path over and over and over again
With increasingly diminishing respite

No loss is ever absolute if the resolute
Soul of man can accept that there's  always
A plan when looking with more than just eyes
While hearing with more than just the ears
Believing what was heard is more than just word upon word
Hope is as i am now at the crossroads of hope
A sunny  field of dew - tinged flowers

As that rope has led me down to simple single turns
Each time completing a circle
No slack left
But I am far far from bereft
As I am now aware of where
I am
The end of the rope
And therefore out of Hope?
Nope !!

' I exist  at the U turn
The New Direction
The ever-expanding revelations
The lengthening and strengthening of my path
And able now to see my false trail end

So with key in hand
I  reverse course and with no remorse
I'm going back to that spot
In that now empty parking lot
Marveling at that now pristine silence
So now we have a much lighter load
I turn the key put my life in gear
And get back out on the road

Oh how I love a good road trip
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