"sirrah" poems
Sirrah, so told the Two Modern Bards knew
Jack's Union does Proud for people relate
I thought I dressed a-tunney; For in Review
This Show of Efforts which make your Art Great
They are called SONGS: Honours to their Gospel
With some Promotion they must get to Ascend
The Theme was Clear; And for Manager's Hassle
Defers deaf Youth to listen and Conscend
Grateful for the Samples. Such were eaten
By my Pod's silent but crow-cockneyed Mouth
They left me at Home; Much was Forgiven
To have me Dance quite rarely in the South.
Fie, this Average Feedback does Persist
Nothing else can Repel what I Insist.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 4:22 AM UTC
I. To sleep...
As if I needed affirmation
of the weekend from a mouse
As if I needed mutually
indecipherable dialogue
As if I need a hip social setting
when Insomnia gets off on my inside
As if I need a drink for the prodding
of my eyes or charisma for the charming of hers
As if we need a hotel or a bed
for that matter in Dormiveglia
II.* ...perchance to dream.*
Darling Insomnia
how you dazzle in your quilted
queendom of suction
Darling Insomnia
**** out the vanilla gumming
up my timid lungs like sugared venom
Darling Insomnia
I promise I won't burden you with moans of
fantasy-inflicted headaches
Darling Insomnia
let your sirrah latch his inhalation
onto your majestic ***** like an asp
Darling Insomnia
does subordination in my windpipe
do right by your despotic grasp?
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 11:57 PM UTC
Wearing just
a Toga fashioned from my black satin sheet
and a Tophat
sipping Sirrah out of a champagne flute;
It's been a crazy night.
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 5:08 AM UTC
You, sir,
I think I made the mistake of trusting you, sir.
I think sometimes they tell you people
That teenagers have nowhere to go and no one to talk to,
So when one speaks to you
You are the only one they have ever spoken to,
And they only one they will ever trust.
You, sir, are the light on the hill!
And yet I never saw a brightness die so fast.
I told you about the depression first.
Yes, I admit it, I was scared;
There had never been enough people to tell me it was okay
To be mentally ill, that it wasn't something I'd chosen,
It was a flaw of chemistry not of character.
Yet I clicked that door open for you and let you in,
That was step 1.
I didn't tell you about her next.
But to be fair, I didn't know about her, either.
I came to you about him, when I was lost.
You berated me for my trust issues;
I swallowed it and knew it and you told me to stop.
He was supposed to be the next good step.
My fault, and I know it.
Step 3 were the voices.
When I told you there were voices in my head
I tried to explain to you that I was not crazy
The chemistry between me and my brain may be bad
But it's not insanity:
Only memories, only torturers,
And I didn't need another one.
When I told you that my sexuality was not straight like a pin
But waved and diverged to both sides
That I was not a het, I was a queer
You were more kindly than the congregation
And I mistook a warning as a welcome.
I was troubled but not condemned so long as I did not "practice."
Well I did not practice for it but when I kissed her and when I kiss her
I remember your words and look into her eyes and think
That there is no practice in her or in I.
Our lips meet and I feel her warmth and her hands are on my hips
And I tell you there is no "practice"
There is no practicing for love,
Not a single rehearsal for passion and commitment.
Sirrah I would do it again and again
Like the waves I will continue to touch her shores,
No matter how many times others may pull me away.
If you meant to abandon me for me,
You should've told me sooner.
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 12:28 AM UTC
Just met you and I feel as if we've known each other longer.
You're strangely new and a refreshing change of pace.
We've yet to meet in person, yet, I find myself staring at your face.
Prithee sirrah, thine eyes are so beauteous.
You give me chills from head to toe.
Let my fingers run through your silky hair
and absolve me of all concern.
Let my only thought be of you.
Am I a helpless romantic?
Time will tell, I suppose.
Am I dreaming?
It seems as if you're my innermost desires, personified.
You knew me before we exchanged words for the first time.
I just hope that I don't know you for a long time
and feel like I just met you.
愛
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC