Do you have everything
let's check?
The ((Pleasure of Life)) is in a
prime
love setting
Ancient times the Queen meeting
her acquaintance little Horderves
At the wedding reception
Like the Antionette, her laced curtain
moved their rows and rows invitation
What shows Vanity Fair
(So Debonair) to find her glassware
remembering another time
The World fair 1960
But pleasure arise more

You get what you deserve affairs
They are sitting comfortably
Lake George
their beach chairs
Minds start looking elsewhere
We need to check over there
Mrs. Honey Bear, I see Claire
Well what do you know
checkmate

This wasn't a date Friday the 13
red unlucky dress
Rows more pleasure affairs
debonair conceited smirk
book for two umbrella
steampunk
She saved all his junk
what a pair

You better hold it steady to be set
Square and fair
Your hands couldn't save them
All the magical book/ hearts
Kate spades, they played

She got his"Rock Candy"?

Before you get seated he pleaded

You jumped up to cheer
Billionaire Evening prayer
A-bloom preserved for me tears
Castle high society killed the air

You felt like the debutante

but you weren't at the ball

Your pants hit me football ouch?

Rows and rows, come-at-able

Moods bat swing hit double

Voice behind you rhapsodic

X graphical red dress design

Dove-like debonair wearing the sign

body notes cinnamon and cloves
Pleasure please be fair
She is Robin in her East Windsor chair

Another hobby has been destroyed
    By my lover, my wife, my best friend
    I won't be annoyed.

I decided to read and watch a number of works
    but have been made to feel guilty, I hate that
    and it completely *****.

We only can talk for a few minutes each day
    Then it's time for the national news, I am hanging up
    I hear her say.

Over half my salary gets transferred to that bank
    My emotional energy stands up in our talks every day
    Then the proverbial rug, out from under me is yanked.

I am accused so often having made a big choice,
    In the past and now -- in the future
    That is what ends our conversations, silences my voice

Why continue? Promises are made to me of a "for all time".
    Pain and suffering are projected back at me,
    How can I live like this, how can she? The fault is all mine.

Earlier in life, I never spoke. I dared not reveal,
    To friend or acuqaintance, distant orclose.
    My pain inside, how everything made me feel

So with this last long relationship, right from the start
    I explained how I felt each step of the way
    I poured forth a flow of words from my heart.

Now I do hear, that the novels, and movies, and author I chose
    Makes me feel guilty, and I hate the, "SOUND FAMILIAR????"
    So the videos can stay off, and each book I must close.

Is this what my life is, and how it will end?
    Confusion and heart pain, they happen each day.
    Using technology or words and sight our feelings we send.

What am I doing tonight, this weekend, for all of each day?
    see you later, is what she will say, See you tomorrow,
    You Love me in your own special way.

I guess

mgm 1/22/2016

My day died an abrupt death. Ignominious.

At the hands (and lips) of my own mother.

Yet another broken thread, burning bridge,

lost key to a door shut in your face without a parting kiss.

Ce la ma vie.

You wanna know what it's like
to be a rebel?
You wanna know what it's like
outside the salt circle
looking in?
I tell you what, I'm not dancing
as much as flailing.
Fitting enough, I am crashing
again the closer
that I get.
You wanna know what it's like
to be the other?
You wanna know what it's like
to live as if you were
not dead but
wholly aware
in stasis?
Holy stasis,
what is it like
to be alive
unmoving
and empty,
dry of passion?
I better tell
this bitter truth,
that being you
isn't worth
half the strength
you generate.

I tell you what, I'm not dancing
as much as flailing.
Fitting enough, I am crashing
again the closer
that I get.
You wanna know what it's like
to be the other?
You wanna know what it's like
to live as if you were
not dead but
wholly aware?
I would trade wealth
and mental health
for just a touch
of the sand
containing
what has gone lost.

Just a touch,
I want your hand.

What's it like to be the metronome?
I tell you what,
I dance a lot.