Why am I surprised?
You disappoint me yet again.

When will I ever be enough for you?
When will you ever actually care?

Will you ever realize that I love you?
Or will I constantly stay disappointed?

keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­
                                                                ­ l                  to is what the sound
                                                           ­      i            n
                                                  ­                s           e
                                                               ­          t

                                                              ­                               v
                                                               ­                         a        e
                             ­                                          of the  w               s
                                                               ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­            tells  you
                                                                ­                                        to do.

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.

there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills.

The rain forms rivulets
racing down our windshield,
soft whispers in the night,
promises of the things to come,
morning sons and daughters,
of life given selflessly,
my hand in yours,
writing gentle vows around your finger;
take my name and I'll bear
your burdens as you'll bear mine,
with lace and white veils,
the shields we'll use
******* and bound
across these shifting time lines
with each other
once again.

.
Snow drifts down
     laying a lawn cold sheet
across the frozen ground,
          creating art reliefs
like acid etching glass,
open space rolling and undulating,
in small hills and depressions,
     bedecked in a veil of white.
The silence is deafening,
quiet having been enjoyed
     and surpassed,
briefly punctuated by the call of a bird,
     A sharp whistle that shrieks
and attacks the silence.
The fresh smell of snowfall wafts up
     as it settles and glistens
in the light of silver moonbeams,
randomly peeping through clouds.
The taste of peace,
                     tranquility,
in the frigid air,
sends imagination soaring
from the desolation of isolation
to another time and place.
          The snow falls,
     falls,
in a relentless race for the ground,
               all is still,
               nothing stirs,
as the moor welcomes its quilt
and sleeps with a cold heart,
     dreaming,
                       of being kissed by the Sun.



© Pagan Paul (28/05/18)

She smiled and she grinned.
  So happy, so free.
  Unbothered by the worries,
  Not one could plainly see.

  But far beneath the smiles,
  She screamed, a soundless cry.
  She wept in deafening silence,
  Underneath the lie.

  He smiled, he laughed.
  Such a friendly young man.
  Bared one daughter, but no sons.
  He walked every day, never ran.

  But far beneath his chuckles,
  Were rules set to comply.
  With the daughter that he’d beaten,
  Underneath the lie.

  The evening of the funeral,
  She’d mourned for their third part.
  The mother she’d held dearly,
  Heart spiked over the feeble chart.
  
  Family gathered around him,
  Said they’re sorry for his loss.
  Wife and daughter gone,
  He prayed under the wooden cross.
  
  But far beneath his sorrow,
  His heinous grin reached the sky.
  For he cried tears of satisfaction,
  Underneath the lie.

Hugs....
How you've known I needed
Them I will never know,
But what can I say, I do.
And when I read your reflection
On my words,
I cam stop what Im doing
And read my poem again,
And then I cam hug myself,
You calmed my climatic
Mind from shattering
Its self against the wall
Of my own making,
And that wall,
Well I can calm it down.

What is it about Patty M?
A simple seemingly pure
Heart in a world where fake to
survive seems to be the order
Of the day,
And when her words
Like mine, I can hug the
World again,
Because Patty M hugged
Me when no one else could,
Her words are not metaphoric;

She heals my broken self,
Because she meant it,
And I know that something
Is real about that,

So here's to you Patty M
From the Ded Poet:

H.    H.  U.     U.   GGGGG
H.    H.  U.     U.   G
HHHH. U.     U.   G.    GG
H.    H.  U.     U.   G.        G
H.    H.  UUUU.    GGGGG