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Matthew Mckeown Mar 2018
His face-
greasy and worn,
like fly-paper strips
melting in the sun.

When he gaped at me,
I felt his emotional scars.
They were as tangible,
as those on the back
of a whipped slave

There was a strange
familiarity about him,
breeding contempt.

His sunken, distant eyes,
bore the lives of a
thousand nobodies.

I didn't want to be
anywhere near him,
yet there I was.

Seeing myself in the
reflection of his glare,
suddenly I realized
that in his eyes,
I was the freak show.
Matthew Mckeown Mar 2018
If I were a grand ballroom
You its breathtaking chandelier
Our love shall be for a bride and groom
A new dance, an exciting twirl
holding each other near

If I were a blossoming red rose
You the savor upon which is so sweet
Our love shall be for a nose
A delightful aroma, an aphrodisiac
a nares treat.

If I were a mountain great and tall
You a wondrous peak
Our love shall be for climbers all
A challenge, an adventure
a journey to seek

If I were an ocean deep and wide
You that horizon of sun setting gold
Our love shall be for couples watching
on the seaside
A warm embrace, a first kiss
a story still to be told

If I were me and not another
You my partner and friend
Our love shall be for each other
Deep passion, a glorious union
a true love without end
Matthew Mckeown Mar 2018
It was a small cafe, the sign that hung
outside appeared wider than the shop
itself.

The logo was a purple monkey
with a large cup of coffee in his hand,
it read "Worlds Grapest Coffee".

Once inside the first thing you notice
is the place smells like brewed heaven,

not like those fru-fru places with all their
exotic flavors, this was just good ole
coffee aroma, thick in the air and
delicious to the nose.

As far as the ambiance,
there wasn't any,
no pretension here.

The wooden floor was old,
worn and uneven, It almost felt like
you were standing on the deck
of a small boat in the middle of a storm,

if you didn't know better, you would
swear the tables and chairs could
come sliding your way at any moment.

The counter looked like it was installed
in the 80’s it had a blue gray formica top
with tiny speckles.

The woman who took my order
had these remarkable sea green eyes,
I was taken aback immediately
when I saw them,

she wore a white button up blouse 
with a black apron wrapped around
her waist, the kind with a pouch
in the front.

Short slim, long dark, chestnut
brown hair with a contagious smile,
definitely not ******* these old eyes.

When asking for my order, her voice
had a smokey jazzy feel to it, adding
yet another layer of soothingness
to the place.

I ordered a regular coffee, black with two sugars
Matthew Mckeown Mar 2018
Six months of unberable heat
and dry stubble have taken its toll,
The weak have perished,
strong survived and
heards have been culled

Wildlife in the throngs of death,
in anticipation of the forth coming rain,
huddle under dreary trees-
that loom above the coarse harsh terrain,

Clouds wildly swoop in to cover the bright sky-
frantically diminishing the presence
of the scorching sun's rise

Clouds pregnant with hope burst open
to the rumble of thunder,
Lightning dominating, illuminating
announcing the birth of new born water

The Savanna is in finally in her high season...
Matthew Mckeown Mar 2018
Visiting the home of my childhood,
standing on a tiny patch of grass
I called my back yard.

Looked up into a small sky
with an even smaller moon and
tiny stars.

There was a time that sky appeared
as the vast never ending universe,
the great proliferator of this boy's
imagination.

My perception of the moon and stars
all those years ago,
seemed  much bigger

Older, devoid of adolescent
innocence and the belief that
somehow all my hopes and dreams
would magically come true,

I realize like the tiny sky
I now gaze upon,
that my life too-
has become smaller
Matthew Mckeown Mar 2018
She says my ride makes her
feel alive

like some midnight ghoul
with a vampire's drool

she drinks the blood of
my deception

a little push-
some warmth in the veins

then her own special
island
Matthew Mckeown Mar 2018
A thousand white lilies adorn the edge of the craggy cliffs,
below, the sound of the ocean smashing,
waves breaking on the golden sand of the endless shoreline,

The spray and mist thick in the air with its briny smell,
wind howling while gulls squawk in the near distance,

Ten generations of seawater for blood call my name...
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