Passion and anger,
Frustration and love.
Sometimes you’re a raven,
Sometimes you’re a dove.

Although I don’t want to,
I can’t help but care.
I’ll always forgive you –
It’s a curse that I bare.

But I haven’t forgotten,
The pain that you brought,
With your indiscretions –
My trust is stretched taut.

So now you’re repentant –
You're seeking my heart.
Just cuz I forgave you,
Doesn’t mean I want part,

Of love that is foolish,
Of a love that is based,
On reckless decisions –
On those made with haste.

So please do remember,
That my heart dismisses,
Love married with drama –
I don’t need salty kisses!

I wash the dishes.
You rewash them.
"You're worthless!"
Said without words.

Beautiful bouquet of
Bright, fall flowers.
Sent just because.
"Who the HELL arranged them?"

"I love you honey!"
Scribbled on a note,
Hidden to surprise you.
Your hurtful words surprise ME.

The lawn's mowed.
The kitchen's clean.
The clothes are put away,
Yet your anger remains.

Focused but maudlin,
I rummage through
My meager belongings,
As I pack them to leave.

Although I’ve struck another “END,”
I do not feel amiss.
What happened was what’s meant to be,
A truth I can’t dismiss.

The first night that I slept alone,
My slumber was remiss.
But when I woke up safe and sound,
I knew I had fate’s kiss.

It hurt to see our common friends;
It ached to reminisce.
But seeing they were still my friends,
Showed me their love exists.

So now each day that I endure
This trip through the abyss.
I realize that by facing fear,
I’ve found a kind of bliss.

Searing torrents of molten asphalt
swelter inside my chest.
The catalyst that sparked
this raging inferno,
your words
still pound inside my head.
Blank-faced, devoid of emotion,
you offer an embrace.

Hands off!

Desire for reconciliation
mocks my pain.
Dreams of a white picket fence,
grandkids gathered around,
a collection of priceless, dime-store baubles,
dissipate in smoke.
Adorned in ignorance,
you reach to touch my face.

Hands off!

Comfort and pleasure,
desire and fulfillment,
memories of contact,
enjoyed,
burrow into my mind.
Herculean temptation,
overpowers my will.
~ Almost ~

Hands off!

Oh cutie, you looker, you breaker of hearts.
Why is it I must go right back to the start?
Why must I again go looking around,
To find someone special who'll vanquish my frown?

I thought I had found, the day I met you,
My lover -- my soul mate, but it was not true.
I guess it was all just a dream of my head
An unrealistic indulgence I fed.

The truth, just our heads, not our eyes could see,
Was that romance for us was not meant to be.
I'm hurt, but I'm grounded, my faith is not lost,
Because when I met you, I counted the cost.

The gamble I took was a worthwhile risk,
To test for the chance that love might exist.
I am glad that I met you, I have no regrets,
If you want to stay friends, my answer is "Lets".

Little, tiny face slaps dominate my world,
Ever since the moment you became my girl.
The swats are mostly painless – so I just turn my cheek.
I guess I’m way too timid – I guess I’m way too meek.

I take you to the movies – you always choose the show.
I’d rather watch what you like, and see your face aglow.
Oops, I spilled the popcorn – it’s all across the floor.
So now here comes the eye roll that cuts me to the core.

We pass another milestone – I send you a bouquet,
Of lovely, bright, Fall flowers – perhaps a bit cliché.
In eager expectation I sit down by the phone.
Instead of adulation you call just to bemoan.

I’m not quite sure you notice. I’m not quite sure you see,
How much your little gestures have emasculated me.
I beg you to examine, implore you to observe.
The pain your actions cause me if our love we’re to preserve.

The stars came down to meet me, entangled in her smile
Intoxication overcame me, its power – to beguile
Another glance
another breath
another leap of faith
I’m lost and flustered, emotions clustered
think I’ll stay here awhile

I asked about her preference: Mexican, Greek, or Italian?
She replied with a timid look – a romantic medallion
“Would you like
tomorrow night
to get a bite to eat?”
She replied, “yes,” I must confess
I will not be a dallying

That night I couldn’t sleep, my thoughts were fairly jumping
My bed refused to just sit still, my heart was really pumping
I tried to read
I tried to write
but sleep avoided me
I wasn’t mad, or even sad
for loneliness I was dumping.

I walked around the following day, in a luscious haze
My nervousness accompanied me, a day filled with clichés
The moments dragged
the minutes too
I could barely wait
But finally came, the time to claim
she who has my heart ablaze.

I drove to her apartment, I handed her one rose
She blushed so luxuriously, she loved the flower I chose
We went to eat
and had a ball
The night went by so fast
Now I’m enamored, it’s like I’m hammered
love’s what she bestows.

It hasn’t even been a week, but I’m just a smitten pup
I’m her shiny, China plate, and she’s my fragile cup
We talk each day
her voice assures
I’m most surely in love
She’s so dear, it seems so clear
that I'll never give her up

Dark brown hair, darting eyes.
Want to look, 'stead I sigh.

Passes by, looks my way.
Should I ask for a date?

If I wait, will I lose?
Was her flirt just a ruse?

Passion brews, in my heart.
Could a love affair start?

Eyes still dart, look around.
Can she hear, my heart's sound?

Going down, need to know.
If I ask, tell me no?

So I go, out the door.
Not a word, nothing more.

Same old score, chickened out.
It’s what fear’s all about.

Soft and silky on my lips.
So warm and smooth my heart does flips.
Only one thing can bring such bliss:
The sensual touch of my baby’s kiss.

Her eyes are pure and deep and bright.
Her arms a cocoon that holds me tight.
Between the two, nothing’s amiss.
But they can’t compare to her hungry kiss.

I have seen Paris by day –
Walked the Champses Elysee
I travel there when I reminisce.
But I fast return to my baby’s kiss.

There’s no such thing as writer’s block.
Muses don’t exist.
Water boils when you watch the clock.
Nothing lost is missed.

It’s better not to love or lose.
Time’s not medicine.
Saxophones don’t cure the blues.
Beauty’s not just skin.

I don’t believe in any myth.
Legends are not true.
But if you want to know my pith,
I believe in you.

Conflicts solved without a fight.
Smiles shared as we **** the light.
Wrapped in your arms throughout the night.
All sure signs that this is right.

You cross my mind, I start to smile.
With just a look you can beguile.
I love your warm, singular style.
All sure signs that it’s worthwhile.

I can joke and be a clown.
Don’t need my guard when you’re around.
You give a hug when I feel down.
All sure signs it’s love we’ve found.

Impossibilities.
Distilled reality.
Idiosyncrasies.
Eventuality.
Living life with terminal frailties,
Searching for my lost tranquility.

Is it worth it?
Some days.

Morons miss the forest,
Obsessing with a tree.
Players send their soul mate,
Packing down the street.

Irony's not cruel.
Fate does not take sides.
Both of them, however,
Know what a person hides.

You say you really want me, but then you treat me bad.
You vow to show you love me, but all you are is mad.
You want us to continue, to give it one more go.
Oh man you almost had me; prolong this?  Yeah but No.

It’s true I’m not Prince Charming; my faults I know quite well.
But sharing life with someone, it shouldn’t feel like hell.
When two hearts come together, the two should be aglow.
So now you want commitment?  I’m sorry, yeah but no.

Do you recall our first date?  The night seemed to zoom by.
A movie and then talking, your porch under the sky.
I thought you really wanted, to cause something to grow.
But since you don’t respect me.  Continue?  Yeah but no.

To fall in love is easy.  To stay in love is hard.
Two must maintain a vigil, and always keep on guard
Or in the early hours, a tragedy may show
Since I alone am wakeful, Combat it?  Yeah but no.

I told you that I loved you.  I promised with a ring.
I said that I would write you, a song that I would sing.
But I have lost my balance, and you have left me low.
So cry your precious eyes out.  Affect me?  Yeah but no.

A writer writes.  
A writer writes when he wants to
and when he doesn't.  
A writer writes when he is inspired
and when he isn't.  
A writer writes when the words are flowing from his mind like moisture off of a waterfall
and when the words are as scarce as republicans in Boston.  
A writer writes because he is a writer,
not because there are people who will cheer him on when he is finished.  
Sure, most writers dream of the cheers,
but a writer who will be a writer tomorrow
is one who writes even when the fans don’t show up.  
A writer writes when everything looks hopeless
and when everything is falling into place.  
A writer writes as a baby coohs.  
A writer writes as a child plays.  
A writer writes as a teenager dreams.  
And a writer writes as a grownup worries.  
A writer isn't a writer because he was chosen.  
A writer writes because it is what he has chosen.  
What does a writer write when the words are scarce?  
Many scarce words.  
What does a writer write when the words are abundant?  
Words in abundance.  
A writer doesn't wait for inspiration to hit,
he writes until inspiration catches up with him.  
A writer doesn't write only when the muse is on duty,
he writes until the muse feels shamed and shows up.  
A writer does not seek fame,
though fame often seeks writers.  
A writer does not seek fortune,
though fortune too often seeks writers.  
A writer doesn't seek anything but the satisfaction of writing,
for fame and fortune are fickle and writing only for them leads to many a blank page.  
If I write something meaningful and it is not accepted,
is it no longer meaningful?  
If I write words never before combined,
will people rave over my originality,
or complain about my lack of skill?  
I am a writer and so it doesn't really matter.

I have the sickness it is true,
The one all of us writers do.
It causes us to lose much sleep,
As words and rhymes we ponder deep.
Although my eyes I want to close,
And let the stress of today go,
Before too long I start to rise,
To look for words without my eyes.
For it is with my heart I see,
The words I find in front of me.
No matter what method I try,
I can not make the words subside.
And so I find before too long,
My night of sleep has simply gone.

These words I see inside my head,
And by them I am surely lead.
The truth is that I have no clue,
Just why I choose the words I do.
I feel the rhythm in my heart,
And that is where my rhyming starts.
And so a pen and pad I find,
To scribe the words inside my mind.

But though I see the words you read,
It doesn't come so easily.
For even though my lines all rhyme,
To write each one takes lots of time.
I weigh each line, each word I choose,
So that the tempo I don’t lose.
And in the end I have some thing,
That makes the paper seem to sing.

The time it took to write this line,
I could have cooked a meal to dine.
But here I sit with pen in hand,
Trying to impress the man.

For this is what we writers do;
We live for words and not for food.
For food just gives us sustenance;
Words can give us eminence.

My babblings, my babblings
I cry out in terror
The thoughts of my soul
I burp out in error
My wisdom, pure wisdom
is hidden behind
the insipid, uninspired
notions of my mind

Introspection
  dejection
    living without action
Faux devotion
  commotion
    moving without traction
Mental trips
  acid drips
    falling from infected eyes
Turbulence
  opulence
    living life in disguise