the vagaries of
love push pull this troubled mind to balance hard fought
the sea it slowly breathes.
my lungs quickly ebb & flow. from far Moon has her say, and in my ear your soft “Hello”.
Heart moving songs
Song moving hearts Rhythm breaking souls Soul breaking rhythms We do feel elated Elated we do feel Tuned for us to dance We dance when it's tuned
You can’t hit me and hug me
You can’t hate me and love me You can’t ask me a question And ignore the answer You go either left Or you go right You can’t pull me In both directions You don’t. You can’t. Yet you do
If you drag me in opposite directions
I'll be pulled apart
Just entered the garden of eden
Fresh Beautiful And vibrant Also unchallenging and eerily void of imperfection Like spring buds innocent Before petals wilt Faced with disappointment in the seasons Lips a deeper shade of scarlet than forbidden fruit itself Sweeter than sinful apples dangling from the seductive tree The measure incomparable Anything outside this sanctuary irrelevant Temptation beckoning soul with an invisible sultry finger Indulgences vary The magnetic pull remains the same Why would a tree grow here if we were not meant to dine on it's tantalizing treasure?
It is a little ironic that I, being an atheist, would post a poem with this title
Lots of midnights forgotten
***** breath inhaled Bodies kissed by setting sun Hanging hesitation veiled Pulling me in Just a smile Nibbling supple lobes of ears Bled stars instead of red and white cells Cried gems instead of tears Fattened with feasts of love Filled with ****** tension Lips needed the sweetness of sparks Caused by your kiss and attention Pulled me in Never let go Was alive Was young Was free Our story has pushed so much further since then I will always remember how things used to be
I pull, I pull
it’s a starry, gloomy night the stars gaze above my steaming head but they don’t shine for me while I stand at a sea a sable, sludgy, shining sea reflecting the stars that don’t shine for me I pull and I pull something resists, the mildewed thread quivers a hand, scar-strewn, thin and exanimately pallid i wonder where she summones the strength maybe I’m just a weak man when a faint, scratchy voice calls me among afloating bubbles tells me to release
I met you in this crowd.
We never said a word to each other. But the eye contact was electric. You never parted your lips to speak. But your soul did. It was calling to me. Almost crying. Practically screaming. It is okay. I can hear you loud and clear. It is like I am one with you, before the introduction. It is as if something was pulling me, letting me know that it is you. You are the one. Do not let them go away from your grip. The only grip I have on you is the way we stare into our eyes. But which one of us will make the move first?