Do you name your newborn before you see them
Or after you see them
Do you name your poem before you write it
Or after you write it
Whatever moves you
It was easy like a Sunday Morning,
I am yet to get out of my bed longing,
Route 66 was still buzzing and calling,
love to send you pictures of hiding sun this morning.
Endless love is when you say,
Baby, I don’t care, let’s stay,
Tracks of my tears will tell you hey,
Wait for me until I’ll take you there faraway.
Memories are made of this you know,
Being all by myself and nothing to show,
Come join the dance with me even if you don’t owe,
I’ll show you purple rain as we dance slow.
TS. 2020. Poem
Based on song titles.
I saw a needle making love with it's self within a field of poppies, egotistical in it's savagery, swirling within a storm of love filled lies. I watched in wrapt amazement seemingly drawn to the promise of a world thought unobtained, a world only in dreams, I drank the sweet nectar of the gods as the poppies cried their tar, bringing an ****** of lies cries a loneliness that brought a beauty one could only dream. Conspiring confusion as I dove deeper into dillusion where freedom was shackled thoughts perpetually repeating until thought became obsession no matter the consequences. Alone in my thoughts, injecting more lies I silently follow further into the the desolate terms of this silent contract.
Another rambling off the cuff. Words play off words play off feelings off thoughts off words
The way he looks at her;
Why I cannot fall in love with you;
I’ll cry you a sand dune;
A cigarette’s scar;
Girls love boys;
Girls love girls;
Paranoia and emptiness – the things in which we trust;
The things that are not real;
My girl’s best ex;
A piano key’s symphony;
A warning for my lover;
An addict’s guide to life;
The ways I bleed now;
A permanent smile.
Sometimes I would like writings to remain untitled.
Because somehow it’s unfair that a profound feeling explained in a whole paragraph that makes my miserable heart ache in an unreasonable way to be reduced in a one-single word.
is a good place to start
but should we make it
to the end it will be the
greatest ever penned
-an to pens and to those
who still used them
you are the soundtrack to my life.
your breath is the rhythm to my walk.
your heartbeat is my refrain.
I can't think of a title
So I'll just go to sleep for a while
It's better than crying
But not as affective as dying
As I lay here with tear stained eyes
Trying and failing to say my goodbyes
My sadness creeps through yet again
And pulls me down into a lifetime of pain
All in a matter of seconds
We are the ones
In the morning
Let it go.
If this is it
I need something
Off she goes.
Lips on you
**** ***** love
Give it up.
Feel it still.
Would you be so kind
That's what I like
I like me better
Can it be you?
Out of the woods
Chivalry is dead
Hold me down
I think I love you.
The truth brings you a pain I don't wish for you to suffer;
Lie to me and tell me I'm beautiful, for I will readily accept it.