I am the moon and he is the sun and when we get together we have bundles of fun

He doesn't read the newspaper or drink caffeine 'till he dies while I cook breakfast and fix his tie
I don't clean the house and ignore his lies while he's upstairs in bed with someone else's wife
He does however like to go on long drives, surf through the desert with wide amber eyes

I do conclude that I enjoy this as well, being in the passenger seat as the radio tells:
  Of the news you can't read in the newspapers
  The health hazards of drinking too much caffeine
  And the scandals that go on beneath politician's sheets

We like to feel free for a moment
Away from the commotion and buzzing omens
The people that say "It will never happen, you're over and done"
But I am the moon and he is the sun, and when we get together we have more than just fun

The ground shook yesterday,
And the limb I perched upon
Bowed and threatened to break.
The sky above darkened with clouds
As moisture gathered in the air.
My fingers loosened from their firm grasp
Round the branches to which I clung.
And as the sky lit up with nature's fireworks
Of crisscrossing patchwork lightning
I stood up and spread my arms.
The wind picked up and beat icy droplets
Into my chest and cheeks.
And in the moment before I fell,
I yelled.
As the breath escaped my lungs
In a violent echoing release,
I closed my eyes and steadied myself
And then stepped off and flew.
Oh what a flight it was!
And the ground caught me
Like a frypan catches the tossed up pancake.
And all life was beaten from my body
And all my demons exorcised.

And then my eyes peeled open
To see the white ceiling above
And i felt the starched sheets
Chaffing my sweat-soaked skin
And I realized I have to live the day
All over again.

Oh, loveliest throat of all sweet throats,
  Where now no more the music is,
With hands that wrote you little notes
  I write you little elegies!

They preen, they brag, they cluck like hens
Favorite pastime? Schmoozing with friends

They lunch, they party, they go to the races
Wearing Versace and botoxed faces

They worship the sun, the moon, and the stars
And fill up their lives with mansions and cars

They spray tan each day to enhance their appeal
These housewives are everything...except real

Your smile is a shiny serrated knife,
Divine, but deadly.
With the power to mesmerize my mind
And to slowly, beautifully put an end to me.

One layer at a time, you peel back my skin.
And even as the blood begins to seep out of my pores,
I will delight in the pleasure of your attention.

The pain of the lacerations caused by your kisses,
Barely an afterthought -- to plague me only after
The door shuts behind you and the memory of your spirit
Is the only thing left to violently wake me in the middle of the night,
So that torturous thoughts of you can pour out onto my pillow.

My body heaves trying to purge itself
Of the wonder it still holds for your soul and the
Desire for your skin still pulsing through every vein.

But to rid myself of the memory of you,
would leave only a breathing corpse, for your fingertips
have grazed every fiber of my being.

At any rate my heart is ready for any joke,
I've been a joke all my life
It's been a funny ride
But I guess hearts get tired.

Love poem
Never read
In a letter
Never sent.

Self-inflicted torment.


-- Eleanor

the July sun stabs her cheeks pink rose.

where is that wooden bridge i ask her
some way more she says some way more

she never forgets.

the bridge was half finished the last time we came
left us longing what mysteries the other side held.

i think the water has eaten it up
tides are so fatal you know

no way she says only some way more.

then it shows up

six months of wooden planks
six months of waiting
now proudly hanging on the river in spate.

let's go on the other side she cries
in wind scattered voice
her hand upon my shoulder rests.

her way she never forgets.