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Paul Goring Jun 2013
Fit
in a photo
fitting the image
I had
you had
of The One
an anonymous glance
a moment in time
a kiss possibly dreamed
excitement and hope
those eyes
that smile
the dress sense
you imagined she would have
the way she smoked
the way she drank
laughed
and cried
assembling the jumble
of what you aspired to
required too
The standard reached
by all too few
Into a photo fit
fit in a photo
fitting the image
that you have
gradually piece by pieced
accumulated
of what she should be
could be
would be
or all three
Paul Goring May 2013
So there’s this English Patient
cave set up
Cold, quiet and dying
Alone
and a sense of properly sad sadness
A deep and thorough sadness
not just dropped my ice-cream sadness
But dying alone and cold sadness
Could bring you to tears thinking about it
I expect
That kind of sadness

So the candle is flickering out
And no-one is coming for you
You realised that hours ago but never stopped hoping
And the end of your life is there – shadowing against the cave wall
Flickering in and out of view
Ethereal and unreal
And you laugh a little at the ridiculousness
Of your plight
And you trace your own fingers around your face
Your thirst is irrelevant
And you start thinking about what you have been
Where you have loved
And who
Pictures begin to come to mind of beauty and ecstasy
And then you fall into satisfied eternity
Paul Goring Apr 2013
Spindly &
light weight
in all but impact;
complex and vaguely French
visually

Lucidly liquid
wondrous explanations
of the prosaically usual
evoking
something essential

Revolving the silver ring
around her so
delicate finger
with her thumb
even that was enough

Summer print simple
red red lips
& unceasing eyes
the scent of taste
& the precision of an artist

He couldn’t imagine
how to love her
& so he very much liked
at the appropriate distance  
without regret
Paul Goring Apr 2013
Mechanical love made
Breakfast consumed
In silence
Commute never commuted
To something tolerable
Suit creased
Like experienced skin
Tremor grasped
Into fist
And denied
Tired tired eyes
Hole in right shoe
MOT due
And years to go
Paul Goring Apr 2013
Her reddened eyes
reopened
it seemed
like she had been crying
but she hadn’t
Not a tear
But for that moment
as she refocused
approaching awake again
It seemed like sadness
burdened her
had surrounded her sleep
sending phantoms  
to populate her dreams
Paul Goring Apr 2013
I don’t care
About your perception of my
Saccharin sentimentality
But I know
That on the day
That humanity kills the last Tiger
That the beauty in the world
Will have gone
Our science-fiction
Will start to be fact
And magnificence
Will be only ours to create
Melancholy though it will be
If we are to be Gods
And make this world our concrete
Functional costed playground
Then the poetry will need
to be **** good
The music  
Better
And we will need to
Reconnect with something
That will make it all
bearable  
forgiveable
and worthwhile
Paul Goring Mar 2013
Some places have more history
More echoes of things past
Than here
Some places are where gods were
Passing through
Leaving traces
Some places evoke and provoke
A sense of substance
Substantial moments
Ripples in the plane
That resonate

Some places are marked
By mans hand
Names and dates and hearts and truths
And some places feel right
Feel comfortable
Appropriate
And some places
Keep close their secrets
In the depth of dust
Some places even possess you
Calling you back for more
Making you remember
Their history
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