LONG LETTER TO A LOST LOVE
TO ROBSALA ________________________________________119
LONG LETTER TO A LOST LOVE (PART ONE)___________121
(PART TWO)______________ 135
(PART THREE)____________ 147
ANOTHER GOOD BYE I ___________________________148
ANOTHER GOOD BYE II____________________________ 149
ON A LIVING CUSHION ______________________________150
SOME SMALL RELIEF
Long Letter to a Lost Love
You beautiful mutant. The methodical man
Of set form and societal structure
May soon banish you from warmth and succor.
There has been nothing in this world like you
But perfection must be disavowed
When it’s already been defined,
When people on rungs, up or down,
Scramble to the image of that false myth.
You say you’re of a downtrodden race.
Circumstantial sorrow, cruel disgrace
Made childhood long and hard?
Isolation left you scared?
You have eternal glory, your race and you,
While I carve a lonely wake through
Useless time; waste some with me
We’ll get exactly nowhere, scarred and ugly.
Pretty colors bend us as we
Make love to more rambunctious rhythms.
Ignorance thrives for the pleasure of victory.
We still create demons to amuse ourselves
But folk tales are made glory and more complex.
Nobility skunks religion, science smells itself,
So we create to compensate, paint the concrete artfully,
Spread succulent juices all over everything.
Helpless love sneaks me back to your arms.
So sorry; I can’t resist your charms.
You float from one warmth to another,
Every man your incestuous brother.
You want too much, not from me,
And cry when you are lonely.
Please let me be your comfort, your secret alibi.
The past’s no reason not to try.
Come on….take a moment of violet life,
Melt with me into purple places.
We never had anything to sell anyway.
Life’s a bitch, a beautiful bitch,
Great big rusty nails and lots of irony.
Hypnosis has us crisp and crusty
But in the mirror we’re something else;
We move with love sometimes.
Like some apparition, in and our of my life,
You make mockery of marriage, sometimes wife,
Claw me in spiteful revenge, symbolic retribution
For centuries of grief. I’m substitution,
Have two decades practice, gobble guilt like
An emotional scapegoat. I run down the pike
When my ring finger aches for one magic day,
When I need to bleed in my messy way.
False exaggerations prostitute tears….
I could cry and scream and stamp forever.
Long Letter to a Lost Love (part one)
I’ll start out slowly,
Try not to skip and jump
Too much. I’m on a plane,
Three hours out of town.
Funny, how time spreads
Sorrow thinner. I look into
The darkness with half closed eyes
And let the night hold me.
I imagine your smile.
Maybe we ignored the signs
And strayed too far from
Our needs and greeds so, sadly,
I soar away from loving you.
Though other measures lead me astray,
My life still revolves around you
And the only ecstasy I ever found
In this plastic world of artificial euphoria.
False exaggerations prostitute tears, I know.
I could cry and scream and stamp forever.
You never wanted me, just sensuality.
We’d pass our hatred back and forth,
Gentle persuasions would hide our fears,
They’d echo through tunnels of emptiness.
But still you were no self sacrifice to a selfish boy
Just couldn’t find a reason to try love’s pleasure.
I’m nobody’s fool but my own fool,
I make my own mistakes.
You looked at me psychologically
But that’s not what it takes to hold me.
Two different spaces and races and traces
Of misunderstanding, we’re souls cast
In molds of our fates and hatred
Is all we know. To you, love is futile,
A frivolous showing of emotional weakness.
We lie to each other, sleep by the buying
Of joy, girl and boy, we lie and try to love.
We cannot connect, but it’s not our problem
It’s their malignant lie…that we be less
Last night someone took me home.
I don’t remember who but I was
There, alone, waiting just for you.
You always had to be so much,
Comprehensible but complex
So what you were to my loving touch
Was shared with strangers while I sat
Waiting for you to call. We tried to live
Together. We couldn’t live apart.
We were milk and grapefruit, Gibran and Sartre.
Affection, denied me, tore my loving soul,
My pride was substitution to hide the truth
Which chanted monotonous, “Die, bitch, die.”
Nothing could have crushed my bones,
But your disease blushed at my wonder.
As a sacrifice to a box of broken dreams,
You shaved my locks, Delilah, were paid
Your demon’s ransom. O, that I were aloof
And handsome, less proud, strong enough
To choke you and destroy my taste
For a lover untrue and a love gone to waste.
For now I’ll just sit and examine the gloom
You say you don’t need me?…Well, that’s good.
I’m busy enough without you. You say you don’t love me?
Well, that’s fine, but why do you still call me?
“I miss you” you say, “in this house all alone.”
What about the times you wouldn’t let me come home?
You’ve had enough of my misfit ways?
You haven’t thought of me for many days?
Well, that’s just fine. I’m going back
To my women and wine. You’ve locked the windows
And bolted the door? I don’t believe you anymore,
Don’t believe that you could be so cold
I thought we’d raise some kids and grow old.
I don’t believe that our love could really die
But I will not give it another try.
How could you care for what you saw in me
If all I could give you was more and more
Solitude and shameful regret? Was your life
So empty, your emotion so free, to be consumed
By any me that happened by? Die, bitch, die.
….Playful and soft, you transfused
Me with your youth. Blinded by your
Magnificence, I could not make you believe
That I loved you. I should, after all this time,
But something about you terrifies the softer side
Of me. Something tells me that something went wrong
And sometime along the way, you’d have slipped a blade
Through my heart just for fun. Something was boiling
Inside of you. It infected me, that bubbling germ,
So what could I do? The future was calling me,
Begging me to crawl away from love. It will blame me
If I fail, once again, to secure some goodness for myself.
It will blame me for a love born of shame,
A devilish concoction of our whorish hearts.
I was barren and empty, backwards and befuddled
By my youthful lust for what seemed like adult life.
In a crowded world of wall to wall faces, there was no
Inspiration– I couldn’t trust what I felt inside,
Couldn’t believe the subtle deception, back and forth,
Between emotion and mind, couldn’t disguise the absence
I felt, wakened by a different woman every day;
A different face but the same old allure
“Don’t bend to torture, be broken in love
and lust for me. Play me, soothe me, hold me tightly
And have no shame. It’s all your choice pleasure or pain.
Being alone here is what makes us the same. Our love is
Only trickery to keep us from not playing the game, but
There is no creation, no communication, no relation to
anything at all.”
With lowered eyes, I fought the battle of conflicting
Could my sorrow be but food for thought?
So when we met….
Your smiles were water sprinkled over thirsty soil.
You made riddles of my life, made the spinning of my head
Seem only natural. As we ran with the evening breezes,
Built castles in the sand of our lives, I got all warm and
Waiting for time to wrinkle and warp my youthful exuberance.
I tried to not skip and jump too much, there on the portal to
my life of love.
You were the pillars of the house of my compassion,
The giver of joy, my angel of love, and sadly, the sweet
Messenger of my inevitable doom. You made me think.
Like some lumbering river, the murky waters of my emotion
Fed an ocean’s need. It was such a wonderful burden
To listen to your complaints as you lay naked
But waiting for you to contact me, my rage turned
To tired passivity and silence was no longer deep enough
To hide the truth from me…You tried to put me in my place,
Make me a member of another race and when I was just what I
You ran for another warmth in which to hide your fear.
In the end it was so easy. There was finally a reason
For all the torn moments. The hours toy with my memory;
What did I leave behind? You kept me separate and to the
Out of your wandering way. You winked too much, not at me
And cried when you were lonely. Tell me, is love always
To make you cry and smile? You loved me hardly at all, (or
So you once said) would slide into yourself to forget my
You looked into my love to judge me. Could you really
measure its depth?
Little girl, grow up fast. Leave your breasts to themselves
And me. Get dressed for the world– We’ll dance life away.
Honey baby, sweet little child, I always did like little
The best but be a woman for me, kill me with the insecurity
I help to relieve. I don’t care, I don’t care, You look
into my love
To judge me, tear me trying to measure its depth. You’re
Of my secrets? Scared of my secrets? If you search your
You will see that you were not deceived by a charming smile
Or the pleasant while we spent together. Mutual deception
Is not happiness to me, but this is love. Spread it thinner,
Bend some more. It will stand the strain and embrace our
You said love is hard, to make you cry and smile. I’ll try
to be harder,
Slide into your depths with the brutal force you crave,
Tear at the crust that surrounds you, tenderize and soften
It’s up to you that I strive. Shaky in the night
Until you need love, I would have waited for your need.
But indication of grief that it is, all bloody and wonderful,
I decided that love couldn’t die, it’s a remembrance of
So off I fly, into the new night sky, and you, perfection
here and now,
Must suffer another malcontent, which seems so similar
To all the other loves, and, shaky yourself, how sad you must
I didn’t get bored of the unique and odd but I couldn’t play
Couldn’t let you pretend to worship me. You escape into the
Search for a newer world of thought, love with no painful
You are a queen when you exist free from frowning judgment.
You know infinity without me…And I am just shaky and
Circumstantial sorrow scars me. You talk of repression,
Fingers pointed, “She’s different” but “he’d Ugly,
Some joke God sent.” So I ride the midnight wind,
Live a scattered existence, raise my glass when I get sick to
“To glory! A toast to man and his long, long story.”
All that ever mattered was that you be true to you
And learn about love at twenty
But that chocolate man, that false sort of danger,
Was waiting in darkness to take a pale stranger.
So you, Florence Nightingale of dreamy delight,`
Fulfilled his fantasy, creamy and white,
And slept by the buying of forbidden joy,
A self sacrifice and a lonely boy.
Driven by the desire to destroy a lie,
You found your reason not to cry.
And then you brought him home to meet me….
The silence is not deep enough for comfort.
Abuse was never a gentleman’s sport.
I found warmth in you, the best and worst,
But superlative exaggerations prostitute tears.
I could cry and scream and stamp forever.
You never wanted me, just sensuality
And I just happened to be there at the time.
You got what you wanted didn’t you? You always do.
Strangers and squeaking beds make you happy?
They all stop by to scrape for love.
Your lovers seem somewhat abashed, you say?
But you’re still everybody’s baby,
Running from warmth to warmth,
Slaving the tortuous depths of many men’s souls?
Screw you! What else can we do when you remain
Remote and unattached? Nothing’s free.
You light your cigarette and smile;
You’ll enjoy the squeaking bed and get to a certain
Point. It’s been almost an hour and now you’re happy?
Your molten mentality may question the flame,
Aren’t we all the same, dirty and human?
You light a cigarette and cry as life,
Searing life, lives it’s gravity toward doom.
And something smells like fruits in the sun.
Funny round robin world goes round and round
And how I love to see you smile. Spread it thinner,
Bend some more.
Sometimes, when there’s only night to hold you,
You think of me for company
But this raspy voice screams continuous,
“I love you, I love you.” Still captured in awe,
I soar away from loving you.
My senses are dumbfounded by your art
And the love which was once a prison
Vibrates across the long space between us.
Are you still everybody’s baby, proclaiming the wonders
Of variety? Even selfish love seems love somehow,
So hide the darkness with my incandescence
But don’t try to tell me what I have to do. People tried
And I’ve always, always preferred to be free to die in my own
My hatred would not be grateful enough if all I could give
was my life and love.
But enough is enough and I say enough, enough you and me.
Will not be deep enough to change the way it will be,
Though it pull my thoughts a thousand miles.
Even though you did your best to drain my emotion,
Tire me with love, rebuke me with hatred, left to me
Maybe I’d decide to stay– Is that the problem?
If you believe there’s victory in showing me
How cold you can be, if you find pleasure
In thinking it hard to convince a person you love them,
Then be victorious, be pleased; It is all I ever wished for.
You look into my love to measure it’s depth, tear me trying
To create something mystical, trying to make it hard to love.
Why did you teach that love to me, only to send me back
With fangs dulled, much less proud for the lesson,
Lonelier than I’ve ever felt, ashamed for proclaiming former
Your lying eyes would smile at me,
Then you’d hide them in hopes that I wouldn’t see.
You’d smell of so many colognes, bait me and run to another
You must think a lot of me to believe I was so easily
Alone I remained on a drifting dream,
Begging for some truth somewhere.
My guilt and I leave you now
And hope that heaven is somewhat closer
In our absence. If I knew how
To bring you comfort, I’d be by your side.
I’m sorry to tell you that I’m yours forever
Because nothing gives nothing so freely,
And forever is lost like you are to me
But today will hold its own secret dreams
And I will be content if I must be.
I’m just a child who wants his rattle.
I’m here and you’re way over there.
You were my wife, at least in my mind,
You’d tickle me and make me feel alive
But I’ve died twice for every time you touched me.
So much depends on how you look at things so
My dunce cap fits, but loosely.
Maybe I can jostle it off
If I wiggle and jump about.
My love was becalmed near the knowledge of sin.
I was capsized for your eyes.
Yes, it’s a different world through the eyes of pain,
But sight was not enough to move me.
I thought confusion was death’s antithesis
And live now with both in mind.
I could have given up long ago,
Crucified you for your indiscretions
But my sins have their own infection
And any revenge makes us both to blame.
Hey, sassy little lady, are you still a whore
Who buys and sells your love? I’m still broke.
I look back on it now, my cockroach’s squeeze
Which separated me from a whole life with you.
I put in three lifetimes of effort,
Spent every electron volt of my energy
And attention in our fantastic game of chicken.
We careened headlong at super sonic speed,
Crashing, scattered about between dependence and worth.
You were a wonderful exception to all the rules.
If only I could have ignored you, we might still be together.
As I write these words, the sun rises and sets,
Days go by uncounted and months as well.
Locked doors and curtained windows
Hide me from the world.
No one dares intrude on my sadness.
Selfishly, I laugh and cry, always alone.
I hope that no one can hear me.
My life is ironic tension, strung upon
The bowed distance between us.
So, don’t you dare get off on some notions
About loving me too much or too little,
That’s never really what mattered.
So what, if you were just playing with me,
Checking out your femininity?
I’m still in shock, can not yet determine
The damage done. Like an electrical
Short circuit, we came together.
Our lines were crossed and fused.
How much skin did you lose, tearing yourself away?
But I forget– You set me up,
Hated me before we even met,
Loved me on the rebound in some
Deluded attempt to trade scar for scar,
To regain a sense of yourself as worthwhile.
What did you expect me to do,
Swell with pompous pride?
I forced myself to be a reflection,
Tried so hard to make love, make you love.
The me you never allowed yourself to see
Just may be all the things you were looking for.
That’s why I held on, held on to you,
But all you could do was practice for your
Inevitable sorrow. Inevitable sorrow? It’s only life!!
Such strange twisting you’d contrive to make today
A different dream of movement and magnificence.
Yes, today is our wonder, today our domain
But it’s still only life and funny at that.
Don’t you remember that you said we all were just pretty
Are you still frightened by peace and do you resort,
Still, to petty hatred to soothe your emotional upheavals,
Perpetuate your solid ideals? It’s an everything world
And solidity is still but a small, small part of your
You vary the hierarchy to suit you,
Have to be either cute or sorry.
You waste so much time, precious, precious, time
Trying to impress distant men with impossible propositions.
You are a knot hole in the wooden wall of love.
I cringe, shake and shiver to think
That a baby like you had so much to teach me.
Come here, get away, come here, get away,
Was that all you could say? You always kept
A dual reality, for your protection you said.
I prayed the finer side would be the victor
But was not strong enough to wait for the decision
That loving was simple and love could be soft.
You may never know the torture I felt waiting.
Were you waiting too? Your blood still stains me
Where I stabbed you on the floor, I guess I was guilty
For letting my feelings go. I was opiated by love,
Didn’t know what I was doing.
I guess I was guilty for believing your words
Instead of my own eyes. I caught you too many times
Taking comfort with other men, at least you could have
Afterward. I ran into darkness to escape from you
But the night was filled with questions
And I still yearn to see you.
Long Letter to a Lost Love (part two)
Where is this all going?
I love you but what am I supposed to do?
I want your friendship but crave, yes crave, your love.
I wish to see you, yet grimace at your spoiled
Fruit rotting in the sun.
Why don’t you answer my calls?
I know you’re there in that same dreary place,
Waiting for love to call. I’m calling.
Yes, I wanted some small reprieve
From your spoiled silly ways
But memories sweeten as I roll them over in my head.
The ragged edges smoothen and become polished glossy.
“She’s not a selfish grabber,” they tell me, “just the center
Of your universe and a secure little fetus.” I stabbed at
The future to see myself reborn but you couldn’t
Bring yourself to have my baby,
Were frightened that you’d think it ugly,
Born from a shameful love.
My new lady waits for morning light
To look at me and love,
Says, “Enough you and me.” I think
But dare not end it.
I will not subside.
We must fight to be free.
We must be free, we must be
We I must be somewhat happy
In a lonely place while the new
Holds me tightly and has no shame.
You winked too much, not at me
And cried when you were lonely
And when I’d touch you sometimes
You’d smile in your strange way.
All night long you wouldn’t come home
Such a mess but we got used to it.
Away from the bustle of the crowd,
In the never land of always,
You did your best to tire me with emotion,
Drain my love. If it was left to me,
Maybe I’d decide to stay but
Mania society, brain rot, skipping record, scratch,
Claw, pussy, willowing, tough meat, do put
Discord in the songs we sing. We sit
Straight but stagnate and our edges get
Mushy when we think about how
Popular opinion makes us something else.
I made you a queen, don’t you understand?
I was a tripper but for you I was a man
And you worry about being used?
Use, use, use, that awful word use pops up
And we all misconstrue its meaning.
If all words fail me from this time forward
And their meaning be never known,
Tell me, whose fault would it be:
Whose if not my own?
If all the sleepy metaphors
Fail in their fight for life
The blame’s the same…
So your love is wasted.
You cry and laugh but my soul is spent,
Hidden. Guilt is on my shoulders because
It wouldn’t be if not for you.
Love is gentle but when other measures lead me astray
My life still revolves around you.
Be silent, my love. Listen. Your heart beats
Its rhythm into my soul. Does my pounding reach your
Ears, across the many miles? When my head hits the wall,
Do you hear the thump? Little girl grow up fast,
To live a life of alabaster and onyx I’m no jacks
Of diamonds and don’t know the pose of the Jack of Hearts
But I am a card. Go ahead and play me.
Eventually, you will give more in taking than ever
In mistaking me for a selfless man, an altruist, a lover,
True, a self sacrifice or a lonely boy.
Somehow, I feel there’s nothing more to say
And if there was, it wouldn’t matter anyway.
It’s just pretty words that fit well sometimes.
Why work? Why try? Why why? We’re all going to die.
I don’t even care about me. Why should I care about you?
Is that something like what you said to me?
You have at your disposal a few good years.
Use them well, don’t waste them on me.
I have no soul, my funk is lacking,
My lady is too, was stolen before I met her,
Dying inside me and mine.
Inside you was warmth. I thought it was love
Am lonely now and miss you.
You were so young for love and compromise;
Me control growth? Cover my eyes? I tried to think I tried.
I wish this was all a joke,
That we would crumble in laughter.
Alone, I remain on a drifting dream,
Thought love would come true, be true. Torn moments,
Shredded hours and I try to remember a dream
Of happiness. Don’t be afraid, my love,
But don’t trust me naively.
I love you, of course, it’s my love, though.
You bend some more to give me hope
And I hope it’s really love, am lonely and miss you.
I’m on the brink but the abyss is not empty space.
I throw myself into the fullness of my self.
I dig at the snow for the frozen ground underneath
But all that comes is memories.
I thought no one could hurt me, that love would diminish
My pain. Your joy taught me ecstasy, your sadness
Was sapped in my cause and there was sometimes a quiet
Bliss in your eyes and when it rains I remember
And when the sun shines I try to forget…but don’t.
What great metaphors could I contrive
For the pleasure of embarrassment,
The embarrassment of pleasure in Central Park,
The first hint of fire in your eyes,
The long nights together and your gaze
In the morning when I’d open my eyes,
That blue and green petick dress
You made one summer and nothing else on,
Your arm wrapped in mine on ice,
The stranger quivering in your belly,
The times you cooed and oohed,
Our bodies and souls wrapped and tangled,
After that first night of terror, the morning
For love after mourning for love, the tension
Gone from our eyes and your face,
Just inches away from mine, so young and loving.
You caressed him with your voice and made
Me guilty for feeling jealous.
I’d fight the nausea at things you’ve done
But would gag at the stranger on your breath.
I look at faces now, compare them to yours,
See your swollen nipples, puffy in the sinlight,
See that sand, still patterned on sticky places,
See you running to town after hiding me away,
Hear your talk about my pretty pockmarked face,
As beauty with scars. You laughed lovingly
That summer but I preferred that you hate me
With respect. I miss your feathered touch,
Your deep brown and blue eyes, your disease,
Your youth, the wrinkling of your nose,
Your probings into passion. Did you really
Think you needed another love, a substitute
Superego to balance yourself with? You filled
My life with questions, gave me a future and a past,
Made me go back to the dark side and stick my nose
In the cracks of the plaster that molded my being
And your whispers still carry me back a thousand miles.
My parents told me the world was good.
Did we prove them wrong? If we did
Should and shouldn’t , bad and good
Take on a new air. We make excuses
For our excuses and try to judge
Everything separately. I could cry
and scream and stamp forever
But if you believe there’s victory
In showing me how cold you can be,
If you find pleasure in thinking it hard
To convince a man you love him
Then be victorious, be pleased.
It is all I ever wished for.
What’s in the mirror but an image
And what is painted glass?
You look into my love to judge me
Or look at the way I walk.
Now that you’ve promised yourself
To me– a friend forever– what else is there?
What needs saying, when emotional slop
Causes grimaces and sly grins? Sentimentality is not the
But was I born too late to say it? I love you.
All right. So you don’t love me, so I do live a half life
Dream. All right, don’t love me and now I’m supposed
To….do what? I had the choice, chose to play
Naked warrior on a bed of lost love, fought a losing battle
But why did you teach me love
Only to send me back with fangs dulled,
Much less proud for the lesson, lonelier than ever,
Ashamed for proclaiming former losses?
Empty glasses and, as the time passes, I sit and dream,
I sit and seem to listen, to hear. What about Lisa?
Where did she go when my troubled mind left her virgin love
Far, far behind for you? She would have been true
But I was in love.
I no longer ponder the worth of loving you
From afar. We shared what we knew, guilt and pain,
But the worst is over, the darkness came first.
While you remain remote, I let a new love grow
While I try to be true to you
But if you can’t even hide your hatred from me
You’re already lost. Don’t you see?
I see warmth in you, witch, warmth inside you.
You wanted power to love and be loved,
Had it but, blinded by intricacy,
Mistook, maybe mistake emotions for other
Emotions, confuse yourself and lose yourself.
If I might be relieved of this tale, this emotional
Torture and warn others who begin to fall
Under the same sort of spells that made me old,
I might make some good come out of a love like ours.
Love is always hard, a burden of sorts, to make us
Cry and smile and in an easy way slide into ourselves,
In and out of life.
I loved you hardly at all, played with a love so fine
But made love while you took your time. Torn and tattered,
All that ever mattered was that you be true to you
And learn about love at twenty; time does spread sorrow
So what, if you needed something more, needed to do
All you never did before– that’s right, so what?
Your bones grow dry , your breath grows short,
So play, play it out, while you still can have fun
Even if I’m the only one that will love you forever.
You tried to put me in my place, make me a member
Of a different race and love ceased for you because
Time left its mark– somehow you changed, changed me
And, like one more anchor line to cut, you cut me
And did what you must have done or had to do.
Lover of old, my old little love,
Put yourself behind me.
I don’t know you anymore.
I’ll open the door and let you
Out of my life and thought.
No I won’t but I ought to, sometimes wish I could.
You kept saying that I hadn’t told you
My secrets. Maybe I didn’t have enough to tell.
Maybe you were frightened for what I kept
Like my love, for me. It was my love, not yours.
Don’t you see? You thought you could touch it
To measure its worth, smiled falsely when I smiled
Sometimes, but mutual deception is not happiness
To me. It was love, so bend some more.
Spread the lies thinner, hide my insanity:
Keeps me safe you too, of course.
Happiness is just a thought away
Is it worthless to suffer?
Will those addicted to their shallow sorrows
Look at ours and know depth? I doubt it.
Until the world is safe for joy
I’ll keep my hope and love alive. Will you?
You don’t need to martyr yourself.
One Jesus did the job
As well as can be done,
And I imagine he smiled some of the time;
Some of the time.
Mutual deception is not happiness to me.
No matter how it feels
It punishes quietly
And silence is never deep enough
To hide the whole truth from me or you.
Some bitch has been with someone tonight,
Her eyes smile lies as she
Hides them in the hope that
Someone really loves her.
She smells of many colognes,
Baits love to run to bearded lovers,
Loves facial hair and a worm demeanor.
Singing a muscular overture, she truly is
The Florence Nightingale of sex,
Slaving the tortuous depths of many men’s souls.
She gets screwed– what else can they do?
We perceive what we can,
Spies in the house of love,
Wilder than even we knew.
I love you.
Believe me– What does it matter if I’m wrong?
Answers can be but yours or mine.
Arguing only passes the time.
Gentle persuasions awaken with me.
A new day shines in the eyes of a stranger
And I remember something about love
Not conquering all the blindness
Of love or not conquering all,
Or the blindness of love.
We’re two different races
And traces of misunderstanding
Put harmony and discord
Into the songs we sing.
We deal in human flesh and our power
Is crafted of flawed substance
So smile with me and hope or die,
Slowly from the inside out.
The last time I said that to you
You smiled in that strange way you really smiled.
We’re all the same.
Dirty and human,
Each other’s comfort
And secret alibi.
Someone said I was the jack of diamonds
Posing as the jack of hearts
That that was at least half wrong.
Remember the rustling of our skin rubbing?
Then, afterward, you would sneak away? Sneak away?!?
It’s a black widow race,
Winner take all?
So many men fall,
Give nylons and chocolate;
Sexy and sickly you accept them
And sweet and sticky they play
Until they get entranced, entangled, enmeshed
In your gory, glory game.
You catch them; They catch you; It’s a cyclical dance
The ceremony’s the same
And everyone gets eaten alive.
Go ahead, look away.
Your eyes magnify the evil in me look away, look away-evil in me
Feathered and painted, you wish yourself free.
“I’m free”, you scream but you’re still stuck,
Just the same, in the molten metal of your mentality.
Burn, baby, sizzle and sputter, go ahead and be free.
It’s the world we imagined and the way it should be.
Dangle, lifeless arms.
This disgusting orgasm
Ate at the defenses
Consumed the fear
That troubled us so.
Mutual deception is not
Happiness to me.
It feels so good
But punishes quietly.
If I see beauty as intricate
A different clone maybe,
A marred mutant,
A cog that slips,
Should I expound
My love for that beauty?
Should I tell you
What you wish to hear,
Some simple phrases,
Some obtuse metaphors?
I am here now.
All the world tried to keep me from coming,
From tasting the witch in you,
Finding the angel too.
Even you did your best
To drain my emotion,
Tire me with love,
Rebuke me with hatred.
I love you but live
This continuing saga
Of pain and pleasure because they are only
One simple way to know
The selves that we are
And love as an inward acceptance of the world.
Long Letter to a Lost Love (part three)
I know I made a spectacle of it
Love, a looking glass
Through which people could see me.
You asked, “Is my friendship not enough?”
Not when I was stabbing at the future
To see myself reborn,
See a baby born of love.
These years away from you to destroy
The devilish desires that made life
Alone a living hell,
The outward appearance of strength
And control, tricked my thoughts
Into self sufficiency, exorcised
The emotion that tormented me
But my soul hid its inner secrets
From even me, winked at the waning of hope,
The watering down of my emotional intoxication
And this is its eulogy,
The death cry of sentimentalism, sentimentality
Because painted pigs mean nothing to me
Their trim bodies and pork chop loins
Can not distract me.
I sever the connection
Do you feel its last throes of life
Across the many miles between us?
Alabaster and onyx,
You feel the man who loves you now,
The one you bend for,
The chocolate man, that false sort of danger,
Who waits in darkness to take his pale stranger.
Aloof and enlightened, you forge a new race,
Caress him with your voice to keep him
Tame– yes, I know your game was played
Like a chess board– manipulated
Was your naked warrior on a checkerboard bed
Of marriage plans, as moves ahead, I cut
The flesh you tasted in a sort of respite
To be relieved of this tail/tale,
This emotion and torture,
The spell of guilty love like fox’s for foul.
My wrist, scared of your wishes,
Aches to bleed life away,
Escape the promise of love.
As you twist the hemp tighter,
My wrists tingle, swell and blue.
You smile reassured.
(Bloated beauty’s a secret stash
So you stop the flow, for security)
Certain that I’ll come running back,
You look away as I open the door
And walk into the cold outside.
A shudder of loneliness makes me uncertain;
I wait and wait but, through the window,
I see that a book has hold of your interest.
I scratch the frost for my fingers’ sake,
“Hello, in there. I’m really leaving.”
In the freezing cold, I wait for an answer,
(I wait for the strength to say good bye.)
Another Good Bye II
Why be frank?
Why not be earnest
I sneer a lot
Call you on the phone
Call you sweet and young,
My precioussss darling dimplesssss,
You want me to crawl through Mordor
For you? Nay! Back to my darkness.
Not elf, nor goblin,
You won’t believe
But I call you precioussss
So alight my shoulder
And perch, goblin imitation,
Nibble on my ears,
You pixie disguised! Face
Gollum in the moonlit murk.
Come, woman, be! Then, be gone.
PROSE POEM On A Living Cushion (a sort of an elegy to a feeling)
Afterward, it was afterwards, after words had been worn out
and all that was left was later and all now was was
afterwards and that was all, all that was left afterwards,
until afterwards, and even then it always, somehow, was
afterwards, after she left, after I left, after all that was
left left out of my life and breezed away. So tomorrow is
something less new but when it gets down on paper, somehow,
afterwards seems at least refreshed and therefor removed
again and again for every way I try to relive it or rework it
or revamp it but that’s just a piece of the life I live, less
new but still new, left but holding on right here and nothing
was ever like this and maybe nothing was always like this but
it doesn’t feel like nothing to me so I make it all I have
when it’s really all I have and when there’s more, more today
than ever before and more yesterday than ever before and when
the something that it feels like, the something that keeps
nothing away fills me with hope I get all filled with hope
and it doesn’t matter that there’s nothing to hope for, no
reason to hope, nothing but hope to give me hope, doesn’t
matter that there are so few hopeful smiles, doesn’t matter
that I still find it, hard to find, find inspiration hard to
find, believe it will find me if I hope enough for it and
watch for it with hopeful eyes but they’re not what they used
to be, don’t sparkle the way eyes should when you’re this
friggin’ old and are still alive and so young too and so,
young too. Yes, death must be the ultimate ager, aging
babies, even aging the live ones and maybe sex is rebirth and
the hard part is the afterbirth unless it’s a nice berth, a
friggin living cushion for babies to live on like perpetual
milk flow, a cushion with plenty of room for company or at
least enough so that when the milk runs dry there’s still
something to cushion the blows from the many memories of
some small relief