#balserak - Hello Poetry

Upward-curled, gleam of white But as yet, something missing “I swear, I’m quite alright!” My wonder turns to stressing. Is she really quite alright? No-one wears their shoes, Socks upon the carpet Browning fog turning loose, But purple mist diffuses. Is she really quite alright? My wonder turns to worried health, I turn my focus to myself, I pull a beer down from the shelf, Indulging still our failing health, She smiles, as if to say that she’s alright. Trading sweat between our hands, A greeting shared from man to man We speak ambition, WE ARE PROUD Our cigarettes, they make no sound. They know that it will soon be their turn. To be or not… I have forgot. Our wasteland, wasted, seems alright It skips my mind I’m all I’ve got I’ve never put up much a fight I hope I’ll quickly be all right. But there are NO PROMISES And no safe-houses. smoke arouses surety, But holds the door for vanity. But as for me, I highly doubt she's feeling free. Charging, useless, up the hill, The last endeavor of it's kind, Cry peace, peace, but peace is killed, Fulfill the end of southern mind. There is no way that she's okay. As men in grey Lay on the ground Bleeding with untempered sound I cast my eyes about the house I find her broken, fading lips Pressed limp against assailant’s kiss Those pearls that were Her sentient eyes, They cast upon me smiling sighs She clings the arm of shifty eyes And leaves the party, new inside. And now I know she’s not alright. But then again, nor am I.

0

Sep 30, 2014

Sep 30, 2014 at 7:20 PM UTC

ben-balserak

Requiem For Female Dignity

Upward-curled, gleam of white But as yet, something missing “I swear, I’m quite alright!” My wonder turns to stressing. Is she really quite alright? No-one wears their shoes, Socks upon the carpet Browning fog turning loose, But purple mist diffuses. Is she really quite alright? My wonder turns to worried health, I turn my focus to myself, I pull a beer down from the shelf, Indulging still our failing health, She smiles, as if to say that she’s alright. Trading sweat between our hands, A greeting shared from man to man We speak ambition, WE ARE PROUD Our cigarettes, they make no sound. They know that it will soon be their turn. To be or not… I have forgot. Our wasteland, wasted, seems alright It skips my mind I’m all I’ve got I’ve never put up much a fight I hope I’ll quickly be all right. But there are NO PROMISES And no safe-houses. smoke arouses surety, But holds the door for vanity. But as for me, I highly doubt she's feeling free. Charging, useless, up the hill, The last endeavor of it's kind, Cry peace, peace, but peace is killed, Fulfill the end of southern mind. There is no way that she's okay. As men in grey Lay on the ground Bleeding with untempered sound I cast my eyes about the house I find her broken, fading lips Pressed limp against assailant’s kiss Those pearls that were Her sentient eyes, They cast upon me smiling sighs She clings the arm of shifty eyes And leaves the party, new inside. And now I know she’s not alright. But then again, nor am I.

49

I once knew a watch-thief Who stole for his own He wasted the time that he Stole on the road But this gypsy boy finds A young girl one day With a garland of flowers And a red satin waist She came from the highway That led to the city Her garments conveyed She was wealthy and pretty The gypsy boy wore Some old slacks and no shirt And he would not have seen her, But she introduced herself first Before hellos were said Or greetings exchanged Years later he said He could feel something change As she told him of ease That she left behind He fell to his knees And praised God’s good design If love is a lifetime, Then lend me your hand. The sparrows are witness That my promise stands And now our gypsy wagon Is off down the road And we’ll never stop moving Cause this is our home. This small band of gypsies, Now larger by one Trundle the pathways and roads they call home The watch-thief reclines with his girl in his arms they fall quickly in love ‘Neath the light of the stars. But if hindsight goes further And time teaches true There was blood in the water, If only he knew. She came down to his level But took it too far She went too far in revel And slowly, she broke the boy’s heart. The gypsy boy stood, Still stock still in his shock He ducked under the hood Of his caravan-rock He walked back to the city She’d said she was from He put it in a bag And he drank in the slums. If love is a lifetime, Then when will you come? The sparrows, our witness, flew too close to the sun And now my gypsy wagon Is off down the road And now I’ve nowhere to go because you were my home.

0

Sep 12, 2014

Sep 12, 2014 at 2:41 AM UTC

ben-balserak

The Watch-Thief

I once knew a watch-thief Who stole for his own He wasted the time that he Stole on the road But this gypsy boy finds A young girl one day With a garland of flowers And a red satin waist She came from the highway That led to the city Her garments conveyed She was wealthy and pretty The gypsy boy wore Some old slacks and no shirt And he would not have seen her, But she introduced herself first Before hellos were said Or greetings exchanged Years later he said He could feel something change As she told him of ease That she left behind He fell to his knees And praised God’s good design If love is a lifetime, Then lend me your hand. The sparrows are witness That my promise stands And now our gypsy wagon Is off down the road And we’ll never stop moving Cause this is our home. This small band of gypsies, Now larger by one Trundle the pathways and roads they call home The watch-thief reclines with his girl in his arms they fall quickly in love ‘Neath the light of the stars. But if hindsight goes further And time teaches true There was blood in the water, If only he knew. She came down to his level But took it too far She went too far in revel And slowly, she broke the boy’s heart. The gypsy boy stood, Still stock still in his shock He ducked under the hood Of his caravan-rock He walked back to the city She’d said she was from He put it in a bag And he drank in the slums. If love is a lifetime, Then when will you come? The sparrows, our witness, flew too close to the sun And now my gypsy wagon Is off down the road And now I’ve nowhere to go because you were my home.

64

A warm embrace from city grates combats the colder breeze How then should I continue? A further stroll might treasure hold But of this, none assures me. Then why should I continue? I might have stayed and soothed my pain My legs had faltered for the thought Why then should I not stop? In short, I kept on in my walk, But often now I think of how I could be different now If only I had stopped.

0

Sep 16, 2014

Sep 16, 2014 at 5:32 PM UTC

ben-balserak

A Decision Quickly Made, And Quickly Forgot

A warm embrace from city grates combats the colder breeze How then should I continue? A further stroll might treasure hold But of this, none assures me. Then why should I continue? I might have stayed and soothed my pain My legs had faltered for the thought Why then should I not stop? In short, I kept on in my walk, But often now I think of how I could be different now If only I had stopped.

13

Time is just a burning fuse What’s burnt is burnt is gone The water beats the boat I’m on, This bustle- what’s the use? The stern is sternly, surely set, Turned ‘round ‘till North is found The ubiquitous Now is still somehow, A measure of regret. But how I wonder, weight the pain Consider- is it wrong? Regret is often, after all, The fix for work in vain I keep the future full in view, And oft I ask ‘how long?’ I’ve much regret, but none so strong Than time I spent on you.

0

Sep 8, 2014

Sep 8, 2014 at 6:54 PM UTC

ben-balserak

I Give My Thanks To My Regrets

Time is just a burning fuse What’s burnt is burnt is gone The water beats the boat I’m on, This bustle- what’s the use? The stern is sternly, surely set, Turned ‘round ‘till North is found The ubiquitous Now is still somehow, A measure of regret. But how I wonder, weight the pain Consider- is it wrong? Regret is often, after all, The fix for work in vain I keep the future full in view, And oft I ask ‘how long?’ I’ve much regret, but none so strong Than time I spent on you.

16