sand drifts down deserted beach
leaves float off once vibrant trees
lashes left untouched on cheek
curtains shut the bright sun bleak
endless hours of midnight sound
bruised knuckles on dark wood pound
sound of sheets sigh on mattress
second-hands strike drum and miss
misspelled words, soft spoken steps
lonely rose, the last one left
no air in two burning lungs
dead garland on mantle hung
dust dances for aimless wind
sunflowers to ashes bend
salt vacates a brackish sea
empty woods hold silent plea
never-ending days to come
deeper nights, but brighter sun

I spend my nights thinking of how you thought
If ev'rything you said was all for naught.
Did you love me true romantically
Or did you just say it to not hurt me?

My dear, I loved you with all that I had
I thought we would both end up real glad
But now I see that you didn't mean it
Now all of this, to me, is pretty ****

I wish you meant all of the things you said
Maybe I wouldn't have wished I were dead,
But I still love you in all honesty
I wish you never said that you loved me

Because I'm finding hardships moving on
If we stayed friends this feeling would be gone,
But you decided to ***** the floor
And told me that you felt a feeling more

I would've missed the style and way you kissed,
But all I am right now is ******* ******
I really truly wish that you loved me
Or maybe just let the friendship we had be

we hope and we dream,
not for reality,
but for moments and scenes
that are not what they seem
shimmering behind sheens,
sparkling on silver screens
we do not see the deep
cuts, the endless lost sleep
promises they won't keep;
no, we thought love was cheap
so what now of our dream?
still, who are we to deem
that it can't be redeemed
and to now call unclean
these faults that we have seen?
is it beyond our reach
to both learn and to teach
our tongues new ways of speech
to taste something so sweet
we may forgive that heat
and venture to entreat
that we somehow may meet
in the vastness between
our mistakes and our dreams?

Count the syllables,
One by one,

The eternal tale,
Spoken lines,

Reading our silence,
Word for word.

~Robert van Lingen

Day tripper. (An Acrostic)
~~~~~~~~
Day tripper.
An Angel of the streets
Yes  looked good in the dark with light behind

Though her behind sagged She were a tripper
Ripping through every penny that she made.
I knew her when she was young n beautiful
Pimps ran her life now and oh how she’d aged
Persecuted by the cops with the tricks to play
Eventually she became the tripper every day.
Rita was the meter maid of Liverpool they Say

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip.
She had a ticket to ride
But she don’t care.
November 4th 2018.

Of language, they say it's partitioned us all
That Babel’s been lost to our dreams
Yet speech was never what mortared its walls—
The Tower is not as it seems

Throughout every culture, a placid expression
Means freedom from panic and fear
A well-­furrowed brow signals excess of passion
And usually follows a tear

Serenity voices our reason and truth
Disgust is our language of hate
Hyperbole, the diction of boyhood and youth
Surprise, that of chance, and of fate

“The language of man has been broken,” they say,
Splintered by region, religion and race
Yet some may speak Kali, while others Malay
But all can interpret a face.

Dancing with Her
     Shimmering ballroom light
Holding Her hand
     Hoping She thinks She might
Frankenstein’s Bride
     Hauntingly lilting sway
Eyes loving eyes
     Dancing the night away

Quick cold Her lips
     Pressing upon my own
Somewhere my love
     Years of my life have flown
Tomorrow’s song
     Echoing from the past
Dear life so long
     Living it to the last

Tomorrow’s song
     Resting in peace my love
Dancing no more
     Dreaming the undreamed of
Somewhere my love
     Into that long good night
Tomorrow’s song        
      . . .