"juliette" poems
Always undecided.
Always saying, I can't.
I don't know.
If not now?
Then when?
I'm just asking.
Love's just floating in the air.
Just waiting for an invitation to participate.
But have no applicants applying.
If not now.
Then when will you let it happen.
Don't avoid the obvious.
Don't put on a pretense you're happy without it.
When it seems you're more sad without it.
Romeo had Juliette.
And Cleopatra had Mark Anthony.
So they knew it.
Even enjoyed it.
But when it comes to you.
You totally avoid it.
So I ask you.
If not now?
Then when.
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC
Juliette's back
is a shapely cello.
Her hair trailing softly
plays a deep, sad,
mahogany melody.
'La musique malheureuse'
her soul whispers.
But in the morning
she will stretch out,
throw the curtains wide
and light will shine through her.
When she speaks
her harp-like heart
will play a pretty tune.
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 5:58 PM UTC
my paris begins with
those early days
as a conscious flaneur
i recall the couple
seated opposite me
on the metro
when i was still innocent
of its labyrinthine complexity
slim pretty white girl
clad head to toe in denim
smiling wistfully
while her muscular black beau
stared through me
with fathomless orbs
and one of them spoke
almost in a whisper
qu'est-ce-que t'en pense
and it dawned on me
yes the young parisienne
with the distant desirous eyes
was no less male than me
dismal movies
in the forum des halles
being screamed at in pigalle
and then howled at again
by some kind of madman
or vagrant who told me
to go to the bois de boulogne
to meet what he saw
as my destiny
menaced
by a sinister skinhead
for trying on tessa's
wide-brimmed hat
getting ****** in les halles
with sara
who'd just seen
dillon as rusty james
and was walking in a daze
sara again with jade
at the caveau
de la huchette jazz cellar
cash squandered
on a gold tootbrush
two tone shoes
from close by
to the place d'italie
portrait sketched
at the place du tertre
paperback books
by symbolist poets
but second hand volumes
by trakl and deleve
and a leather jacket
from the marche aux puces
porte de clignancourt
losing gary's address
scrawled on a page
of musset's confession
walking the length
and breadth of the rue st denis,
what an artist's paradise
(as juliette once wrote me).
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 7:23 AM UTC
Maybe read the Author Note first
\\
I won’t be your Romeo,
in fact I refuse to be.
I’m not what's best for you,
I’m not what's best for me.
//
I refuse to be your princess,
because even I can see
you’re not what's best for you,
you're not what's be for me.
\\
You won't end up my Juliette
I don't want you to
I don’t want a perfect girl
You’re just right being you.
//
I don't want a knight in shining armour;
I can wield a sword on my own.
I'm not looking for love,
you're just better than being alone
\\
I won’t be your king,
//
I can’t be your queen.
\\//
But together...
\\ //
You will never be my Romeo. At least we'll be something.
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 1:35 AM UTC
I didn't expect such an eloquent piece of work to slip from your mouth,
An amazing set of words put together as intricate an atom bomb,
Or as an improvised explosive device, so i see,
Thus I must be careful where i tread my glass slippered feet,
and be aware of what breath of words expels from my lips.
I never expected such a skill set of destruction and warfare,
From a beautiful mouth, so deceptive, that it almost seems,
you are an undercover lover,
both beneath the sheets, and between distinguished conversations,
regarding such tentative ideals of love and the ambiguity of trust.
A terrorist it seems amongst the ranks with a finger on the trigger,
with a finger on my lips, and a whisper hush in my ear.
It seems i was blind to your type of sweet deception;
There are codes i didn't understand, and my mind was melting,
from the heat of your touch and the sublime twist of your hips.
I can see your eyes ready to deploy a subterfuge of promises,
as they look into the distance calculating the logistics,
of this moonlight illicit flit of passion;
Never did i expect such an eloquent transpose of intentions,
Even remarkably as this feels like the Romeo and Juliette of modern times.
I am the 'x marks the spot' in no-mans-land it seems,
I am the calm after the storm in the aftermath of your expostulation,
You, my love, are a sublime soldier in this battlefield we call 'togetherness'.
No-one asked you to go to this infernal devastating war;
Yet i long for your return from the eternal, internal battle,
you fight between your heart and your head.
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 1:38 PM UTC
For all of my self-proclaimed skill and finesse with the English language,
For every single English and Lit. course I've taken, every last book I've read, and all of the papers I've written,
I come to find that I am left at a loss as to the words to say to you on this subject
Because of me being too bashful, too shy and too nervous, all in a blush when discussing my emotions, and
I cannot be boisterous, I am unable to boast and roast, to showboat, I am incapable of acting my way through this
For fear that you will perceive what I say as false emotions and label my words as untrue,
So, in lieu of that, I will put it straightforward here, without gloss nor glamour nor anymore preamble -
Would you consider dating a guy like me? Could you see yourself dating me? Would you date me and maybe someday be
My girlfriend?
Because I could see myself dating a girl every bit like you,
And I just wish you knew how much
I want to kiss you so
That you might know, and more so, feel
What I feel for you now
Despite all that I cover and hide
With this noisy and verbose facade.
But, even more than that, I
Long to hug you, to hold you in my arms.
Such an embrace as you've
Never felt before and
- if left up to me -
The likes of which from another
You would never need.
I long to hold you in
Such a way that
You feel eternally safe, and
That space between my arms
Will ever be synonymous with
Safety, comfort, and the protection
That you seek out in the good times and
When the wide world grows scary and wild
And those out there try to bring you down.
So there you have it, as simple and plain as I can make it - whether to the good or the bad - it's been said, and
All that I can hope is that you know that I do mean every last word that you have just read.
Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 4:00 AM UTC
David slings a rock
Cop holsters a glock, Lizzie Borden packs an axe
Mac he packs the knife, Billy battles with a club, Tommy’s gun is a sub
Kelly’s got 1 too, Bazooka Joe Is Gum, Peter Gun not, Colt 45 is not malt
Nor a horse, hand grenades, canons w/big ***** Doc Holiday had TB
Rock Hudson *** James Dean crash his car,Hank Williams in his bar
Natalie Wood don’t float, Cain killed brother, Juliette poison her lover,
Whitey Bulger, he killed and got paid, deadman walking gets to eat
Rodney King he got beat, got beat Mama Cass Elliott choked on ham
58,000 gone in Nam, 4 dead in Ohio, Kamikazes fall 1941, again 2001
Iraqi leader w/ a rope, John Belushi too much dope, C. Manson is alive
Michael Jackson isn’t, Saturday night special is very ordinary
Fast and furious is the crime, **** Clark just his time
Pirate victims walk the plank, THINK,
Next I’ll come rolling up in a tank
Hear the whistle of my missile
***** Harry had the biggest
The Derringer is small
Smokey Bear forest fire
Greek funeral is a pyre
Too many +’s or -’s
Is electrical surges
Woman and child
sing the dirges
Walking dead
Are zombies
Fat man and
Little Boy
Are atom
Bombies
as for me
in a blaze
of glory
BOOM
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 2:57 PM UTC
If love is tied to the stars, and to fate,
to what seems to be just a fleeting dream-
Perhaps star crossed or maybe all is lost,
Will we know before the end of the scene?
Are there hints? If so, what do they mean?
What exactly, do all of these signs foretell?
Is there a theme amongst the clues, between
Half-hearted attempts at wishing well?
But on these things, we do not dwell-
Passions play should be a victimless crime.
No heaven, nor hell, nor friar, nor spell,
Could part us before our appointed time!
Can we live, with the world as our rhyme,
And as poets, play our songs to the part?
Would you be mine if I could divine
the secret melodies that lay in your heart?
So this I swear, before God, in this state-
To love you, as if this were our final scene.
And then forevermore, our love will endure
As an endless dream within our dreams.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 2:09 PM UTC
Of all the greatest love stories ever told.
Our has held up to them all.
Just don't compare us to Romeo and Juliette.
Our better than their ever was.
Better than many written in bibilical scriptures.
Our love is history.
We be written about in books.
Portrayed upon the movies scene.
Sure there will be rough spots against the happiness we found.
Our love is history.
Like his woman to the president.
You're my first lady.
Believe this lady along with this statement.
Our love is history.
Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 11:06 AM UTC
The silver moon sighs,
Softly darkening skies,
Trapped in her crystal net;
The sun parades on
With a sapphire yawn,
Chasing his sweet Juliette
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 2:26 AM UTC
Old World Juliette, it is a sad day which has come true.
My skill with the English language failed me
And I said things which no man should ever say to you.
We did come to date for a while like I had wished,
But then it all came crashing down around us
Because of those ill-advised words which I said
In worse-fated moments of desire and despiration.
I wished to be the one, your protection against the world
But all I did was turn and cut you down again.
I claim to be a Modern Day Romeo,
Thinking of us as star-crossed lovers destined to be,
But we, like the original pair of this namesake, are fated to be separated
By the poison I have taken, crafted by my own hand
And put in each arrow of each word to you I had spoken.
Then, in Juliette fashion, I came out of my stupor to find our love dead,
Poisoned by my vial - by the vileness of my own creation,
Stopped before the budding love-lily ever truly started growing.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 4:31 AM UTC
I dream of you..
My flawless Apollo
Unable to fathom
Yet easy to follow
In the darkness
I can't tell the King from a pawn
But with the death of a god
Came the first golden dawn
In a permanent sleep
I'm impaled to the bed
The most beautiful dagger
Stabbed me right through the head
Though I'm happy for that
'Cause I think with my heart
Death is but the beginning
When you play with the arts
I untangle the sword
To push you off of me
Could Romeo & Juliette
Still love with a lobotomy?
The answer is yes
I yank the sword from your chest
Then I mummify your body
And cover you in amulets
From the Book of the Dead
I recite you a prayer
"Your heart is mine
And it is at rest there."
I lye down beside you
Re-bludgeon myself
From zombie to angel
Into Heaven from Hell
Corpses in a pyramid
What perfect symmetry
Death is short
But love is for eternity
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 9:11 PM UTC
Layer, lick, stick, twist, ignite.
Exhale pungent exploration,
The dark taps at my window,
Beckoning me to join it,
Great snowy mountains broken by the tectonic plates of a Barclays card,
A burning nostril feels like home,
Search, locate, press play, enjoy,
My feet find pavement,
And the pavement finds people,
Great masses of weekend warriors,
Descend on the neon boulevards,
Sour euphoria engulfed with a wince,
Wait, watch, listen, feel,
What is that surging through me,
A storm of electric emotion,
A touch from Zeus himself,
I think the DJ has changed the song,
Or was there ever a DJ to begin with?
Look, touch, embrace, lips lock on my evening Juliette,
Or will she be my Bonnie?
My Iris retreats like a turning tide,
My pupils are the night now,
And we own the night,
For tomorrow will be Sunday,
And we all have responsibilities.
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 12:29 PM UTC
For seven days
We lived
But we were
Told that we
Could only rest
For three nights
Each could choose our
Own nights
For the first three
Days we enjoyed
this new life
Then Marie
Died
Another day
Thomas and Juliette
They died together
After finding love
Next day
Alex died
I'll miss him
Halfway between days
five and six
Three more died
They died
Screaming
For life
There's so few of us
Left
Just me
Lamar
Mira
And Jackson
At sunset on the sixth day
Mira tripped
And fell
Into the river
Lamar jumped in
To save her
We never saw them again
I am scared
Because I can't
bear to be awake
Any longer
If I don't rest
I will past out
That will be
My final night of rest
Tomorrow
I will die
I know it
But what of Jackson
He has rested
Only once
Will he live
Past our seventh day
The sun is rising
on my last day
of life
Jackson holds me
As the last of
The life
Leaves me
I'll see you tomorrow
he whispers
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 1:39 AM UTC
Ce n'est pas vous, non, madame, que j'aime,
Ni vous non plus, Juliette, ni vous,
Ophélia, ni Béatrix, ni même
Laure la blonde, avec ses grands yeux doux.
Celle que j'aime, à présent, est en Chine ;
Elle demeure, avec ses vieux parents,
Dans une tour de porcelaine fine,
Au fleuve jaune, où sont les cormorans ;
Elle a des yeux retroussés vers les tempes,
Un pied petit, à tenir dans la main,
Le teint plus clair que le cuivre des lampes,
Les ongles longs et rougis de carmin ;
Par son treillis elle passe sa tête,
Que l'hirondelle, en volant, vient toucher,
Et, chaque soir, aussi bien qu'un poète,
Chante le saule et la fleur du pêcher.
768
GRANNY SHOCKS THE GRANDCHILDREN
me I always
wore a yellow pinafore dress
displaying my what-should-not-be-seen
or a Sgt. Pepper's jacket
serving as a dress...showing off
buttocks & knickers to great effect
moved from squat to squat
lived on hash and Mateus Rosé
sex?was just...eh...there
I had loads of lads
loads of lads had me
music and *** - the twin gods
forget "I wanna hold your hand"
we were Stones fans mannnnn
sang "Lets spend the night together"
I wanted to be Juliette Gréco
read/re-read THE STORY OF O
De Sade's 120 DAYS OF *****
?morals/
yeah!yeah!yeah!
whatever
we were all of us always
trying to find ourselves
or escape from ourselves
Granda was mad
bad and gorgeous to know
like straying off the path into
the forest of a fairy story
a **** scary beast
my very own big bad wolf
an Mmmmmmmm
kind of man
"Eat me...eat me!" I'd yell at him
*** was that...what
cheered up those forever
endless rainy British afternoon
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 4:22 PM UTC
Oh you and your *** appeal,
But with a heart that does not feel.
Time and time I've said goodbye,
The I say lets give it another try.
But it would be a lie,
A lie to say that your heart does not feel.
And to give it another try,
Would be like sliding on a banana peel.
A man with a heart of gold.
Wouldn't I be so bold,
To say,
That it was our story being told of a Romeo and Juliette.
That the time for us is not yet.
What a bet!
Like a jester who dances for the King and Queen.
Let's say its somewhere I've already been.
If it had been foreseen,
The lesson would of already been learnt and,
The girl already burnt.
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 6:54 AM UTC
we talk,
we laugh,
we hold hands.
I love this.
But this is no Romeo and Juliette fairy tale.
This is going to be my fairytale
my love.
my happy ever after.
Aug 12, 2012
Aug 12, 2012 at 11:21 PM UTC
Though
I sound poetically incorrect
I heart you
Hearter
Than any man
Can ever
I’m a realist
Not a stenciled prince
Are you unconvinced?
Conniving acts
Are for those
Who can’t match
We’re misplacements
Made purposely
To find
Each other
Well,
We’ve found!
Though,
You look excited
We should settle down
Before
Anyone notice’s
This happiness
And tries to end
Ride and Die
If we must
Go out
Like Bonnie & Clyde
In the dust…
Die in the ride
We rode to death
We won’t go
Like Romeo or Juliette
Russian roulettes’
For the odds
And we have demands
**** chancing
On standings
We already have
Forget about whatever
And focus on forever
We have too much left
After this life
To worry about now...
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 1:00 AM UTC
Fallen with despair
and broken beyond repair
killed and consumed
they were forever doomed
But their love lives on
though their minds are gone
a classic love Story
that ends quite grim and gory
a great tragedy set
in the time of Romeo and Juliette
Feb 25, 2013
Feb 25, 2013 at 11:07 AM UTC
The kiss, Alber knows,
is the sign of great love
or great betrayal. Juliette
presses her lips to his.
There is spittle there
Somewhere, but neither
cares nor senses any of that.
In between kisses she talks
of the pregnant black cat.
He remembers his first kiss,
that girl whose mother never
trusted him as a boy, gave
him his first joy. Where had
it been? he asked inwardly,
pressing his lips to Juliette’s,
ah, yes, in the porch of her
parent’s house, the moon
bright, stars out like sprinkled
sugar on an expanded black cloth.
And about their heads that
**** moth. Juliette saying,
funny how they have such
low bellies, pregnant cats,
and have so many. He moves
his tongue inside her mouth,
along her teeth, touching her
tongue, exchanging warm fluids.
He presses his hands onto her
buttocks, feeling the softness
through cloth. She silent now,
and there about their heads,
that big brown fluttering moth.
Jul 17, 2012
Jul 17, 2012 at 1:56 AM UTC
Juliette drags the brush
through her hair you have
to brush it at least one
hundred times her mother
had said years ago and say
a prayer each time you get
it through and maybe God
will bless you and as she sits
and brushes her hair she
remembers her mother standing
over her when she was a child
and the hair was as long then
as it is now and oh God she
says how I hated it the knots
and tangles and the number of
times I used to cry each time
she pauses in front of the mirror
the brush held mid air sometimes
when she brushes her hair and
stares in the mirror she sees him
there looking at her as he did back
then watching her every move
his dark eyes greedily drinking
her in and once he placed his
hands around her waist and kissed
her neck how she cringed his spittle
still there her uncle his breath his
hands touching always when she
was alone and once when **********
he came in and stared and said he
thought she was becoming a beautiful
young girl now she brushes her hair
again the brush stiff and heavy gripped
in her hand and as she stares into the
mirror heavy with times and care she
thinks she sees him still staring still there.
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 3:21 AM UTC