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Apr 2014
It's a distance from me
Sheffield - City of industry
Where my friend alights to be
Lizzy Boo Green
Queen of my scene
The perpetual adjective that smiles
Like a teenager
             in a disco
Or a burning go-go.

-----

Primary a target of my wishes
That curl friendship in a scribbled
                                  slowhand
            ­                    Back and forth
                       To indirect overdrive
Where a thousand exits greet you with fire
And say welcome
Where we probably will never meet
Seperated by forests, buildings and miles of cold
                                    concrete.

-----

If I allowed my candle to burn down
Then tame a buick's wanderings into nature's
                                             blind spot
Then I am no poet
I hold my friendship like a trophy, high
No contact, No coffee, But we share the same sky.

-----

My pledge is to write my verse
A gift stolen be a loved cat,
So here is my rotting composure
I have one golden friend, Whose fretted blue lights
Are visualising something else.
As change haunts the bellringer, The only sound of life
Is deafening bells.

-----

A frail yet stunning femininity masked by
Accumulative beauty
The description holds general putativity
                                   in a broken cup
As it flows into the sewers of of my persona
And tho we will never share
A cobblestoned journey into the opposites that
           collide into seperate genders
It is only my years that say goodbye to that today
I lost my younger years in the afternoon of yesterday.

-----

2 Friends heading into infinity
But without a compass to map direction
Only 1 of us is courting perfection
And I am sorry to say in my selfish unit
That it isn't me,
I'm only a word that's free.

-----

Freedom is so entwined by *******
Tho I'm not concerned with that,
I am blessed from where I am sat
I am, perhaps too old to understand
What cradles  friendship between a young girl and
                                              an ageing man-
A beautiful wide-eyed energy from Elysium, Our Lizzy
Which leaves me nothing inside nothing more
Other than a single image worth living for.
Cliffy Buglione
Written by
Cliffy Buglione  north london
(north london)   
895
   Pushing Daisies
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