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Riq Schwartz Mar 2014
This bottle bleeds like heartbeats
inebriating grass
contesting dew drops
     heartstopping plot lines
meanwhile fireflight christens
the night that listens
to our intoxicated forgetfulness
a cheap libation
liberation
young-morning dream sleep
waking walking, weaving
half-heard whispers of stubborn solemnity, we
wrought havoc;
we were not in love
it was just the cold night air
     and the field that smelled of chardonnay
Riq Schwartz Mar 2014
She smiles sickly sweet;



wears nicotine stained skin.



"Go **** yourself," she sings.



We're never going to win.
Riq Schwartz Mar 2014
It was with:
justice
and servitude,
foolishness,
brevity
she sought to tell me
of living proclivities -
voice and demeanor
while dancing with candor
that surely would show us
the damning demanding
of each one another
and there
in those words
in that flight
I was shown
the topography of
all the love I had known
where without I would be
just a speck in the sea
but to me,
it would seem
there was nowhere to land
so we took to the skies
and we took what was ours
so she took from my eyes
all the color and life
and replaced it with hers
so that I too might find
there was no need for wings
when the flight through the sky
was to float through the sea
the reflection set free
as we drowned, I and she
we obeyed, as they say,
gravity.
Riq Schwartz Feb 2014
We're too old now.


Too old to indulge in

partitioned plastic plates

shatter resistant

but molded to hold in

three ounces of fun

per serving.


We've outgrown yesterday's

gaudy voice acting

and crude cartoon lines

washed out, two dimensional

color schemes

and character types, now

redux in high gloss CGI,

300 dpi

1080p

5.1 surrounding

both of our senses.




What's that?

We have three others?


But we've no time

for scented markers

on monochrome pages

Breakfast food no longer

simply sugar and bread

We swath ourselves

with succulent self-importance

tech savvy misanthropy

dolled up in decadent

anonymity

We are too old

to go to a friends house and play.





A list of woes and throes

gives us nothing-

leaves us nowhere

except in thinking

patiently praying

that we may never outgrow

our love for the things

which we've long since outgrown.
Riq Schwartz Dec 2013
There was nothing ahead
but the blazing red
brazen brake lights watching
for the likes of us,
with somewhere to be
besides the whipping chills
of concrete and ice
spliced into our state,
uniquely white.

Inside, the air
surged the song out
and over our bundled bodies
thermal anomalies
in the amalgamating night.
Music
wrapped and coiled,
covered the lazy silence
like insulation commitment
to keep us safe,
deployed in case of a conversational
head on collision,
curtailed with soft sounds,
in amber lamps
simple.

Your particulate words
freckles in the face of ill
conceived ideas of entitled
Sirs and Madams,
my van Gogh brush
damning them all to hell.
Riq Schwartz Dec 2013
she tells me how my touch is deft -
scribes lightly through the morning haze
pedestrian within the fog
traversing nights transpire days
     your shouting shatters solitude
     it brings me back mortality
     ethereal my thoughts to write
     these poems' eventuality
a heartbeat muffles crackling lungs
while veins write words upon the breath
and what great privilege given to
the last ones spoken till your death
          you find me speaking lyrics to
          the harmonies I find in you
Juxtaposing simple rhymes and easy meter with a sonnet build - just for funsies. Iambic pentameter escapes me at the moment.
Riq Schwartz Dec 2013
This church is haunted,
so they say,
the sanctuary possessed,
filled with the melancholy
lingering spirits
like the echoes of
cheap communion wine
and halfhearted Hail Marys.
Those who think that
sitting in a pew
is next to godliness.
So they stay here-
too afraid of hell
to ever embark for heaven.
A poem about inaction.
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