Here’s my hefty, over-lumbered
case to put you in:
suggestions on a pin
to ***** your dogma,
error’s commas captivating
run-ons with their length
prolonged for lack of strength
unseen in staying parts -
your wants is off the charts!
But needs are nadirs; we all stoop
to let them talk us into something.
Independence (*** thing) wrecks your time
and chews your peace apart.
Your heart beats out
a chapter shorter now each night -
the longing makes it right
and lubs the biggest dub of all -
recordings of the ball,
the master moldering in some storage tomb
alone for adding rooms
onto the house you’ll owe forever for.
Why snore you with my secret?
Loud man come, inventing orders -
hupping-to shreds being into blue.
Who showed me out of there?
Who whisked without a care
and smashed the batter of your special batch:
for sure, at times, a catch,
but else an error, comma,
asterisk,
rappelling down your robe of risk?

We all like to think
     Our lives as though they're
           Stories,

And ourselves to be
     The hero, grand and shining
          In some tale yet to be written,

An underdog,
     Burdened with the weight of the world,
          Waiting for that lucky break,

But sometimes our final act
    Never resolves to an exciting conclusion,
         Because no one is guaranteed anything more
              Than the role of a background character

In someone else's saga,
     Prose proposed entirely devoid
          Of our own happy endings.

I’m in love with the black leather lily
Sequin rose: she was looking so good
That rock’n’roll woman
Singing on a countryside stage
Doused in pink and blue light

I’m once bitten
But twice aggressive
I’m hungry and I’m craving
I don’t have a record
Of either the rock’n’roll
Or cell block persuasions
But I’ll be doing my time
Somewhere soon

Love bites on my neck
Imaginary and sensual
I know what I want
And I know how to get it
But I can’t seem to kick myself off
And there’s no one who clicks
And there’s no one who would meet
My tongue with their tongue
Let alone my voice, with their notes

I’m looking for something
I wouldn’t call it rare
But I’m questioning the scarcity
I want something stimulating
Intellectually and sexually
By the look in your eye
So clueless and vacant
I know that I’m not going to find it
Any time soon

There’s a feeling that I’m chasing
The humming and the strumming
Of a sanctified guitar
And the lips of a poet
Which aren’t mine
It’s electric and eclectic
A bohemian mind
But I’m stuck in suburbia

Lipstick swatches
On the back of my hand
A trio of matte hues
But the one I wear
With a virginal kiss
The colour’s called
Girl next door
But I haven’t been
The girl next door for a while now

forever waiting
to learn why i was put here.
where do i find purpose?

& my whole life shifted from that day on.

What is worth a writer's many words
When the ink holds your meaning like something
at the tip of your tongue?

When your eyes finally perceive
what your soul feels
and your ears hear
what your spirit receives

When you dwell
be it in high ground
or on low valley
When you look to the sky
or cast your face down to the ground.

You look longingly into eternity
awaiting something all worth more
that this.
Longing for meaning,
purpose,
life,
a reason to live
a reason why you breathe and do the things you do.

Longing for
connection,
relationship;
Longing for
mercy.

It is in the journey of a lifetime
that we realise
the hidden things

When the deep cries out to deeper waters;
When we look longingly
into the mysteries.

Thus it is in those
that our restlessness yields,
and we find peace despite calamity.

When we shall see even the face of God
who once dwelt with us.

What is worth a writer's many words
when the ink holds your meaning like something
at the tip of your tongue?
It is worth more than this,
that meaning be even found in this life
and moves beyond to something much greater
than this.

A silver smartphone
Hides on a silver bedspread
Wise is he who knows



Copyright © 2018 by Zane Safrit. All rights reserved.

If all I've accomplished in my life
was to make a person smile once or twice
was it a life worth living?