Tag Archives: reflection

Teenage Dream (4RW)

We were apples in fields of Perry,

Our exercise books were the gallery and shade where we ripened.

Your gallant smile garnished my appetite as my heart galloped.

At a chance glance you stirred the meat and the juices, I couldn’t decide between hunger and thirst.

I would have licked your lips for starters, chewed on your garter.

Every note was a recipe and I wanted you to cook my parsnip

Yet I was just fishing and you were already parsley.

Like onion and garlic English and Geography brought us together

 

Fondling the fringe of our fantasies in front of our future was a natural hazard.

Playing with the shape of you was the intention but, maybe I killed us thinking out loud.

Forethought and hindsight were toll roads asking us if we had enough change.

How deep were our pockets? Was I ready for yours in mine?

What’s a perfect 10 when you’re in year 9?

We never….so I guess I’ll never…..never mind

It was real at the time.

 

Maybe you were the first brick in a very long road

Maybe we would have found the lost city of gold

Now you’re living on the other side of a rainbow.

My flag is nowhere to be seen.

You’re the pear in a Perry field because I didn’t have the bottle.

I’m not a whine seller, simply a painter of paths.

Our moments on Fleet Street… thanks.

 

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Frankfurt 1: Reflecting

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Take a panorama of paradise

Divide it into 36 perfect 10ths

Is every pixel filled with the same shade?

Are black spots dangerous?

Would you break up if you found one?

What’s your flavour of danger and damnation?

Are heaven and hell real? Do cycles turn a corner?

Are you a moving star?

Are you right stationary?

Gallant souls and wisdom court before the marriage.

Is defeat an ex in waiting?

Can we feel your nakedness through your layers?

Does your drive need to pull over?

You’ve been playing musical chairs with your best moves.

What will it take for you to stand up?

Scrape the barrel or the sky, the deep and wide or the high.

There’s a choice to be made. Black like lemonade, or lack to the fade.

Who will you be?

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Boy in the corner

Trade your suit and glasses for sackcloth and ashes

Remain pure to your past self, unmasked and passive

Stay sophomoric and tragic, take slap shots, and don’t panic!

Affray? We’ll wreak havoc, you’ll be a mascot for the moribund

Stay savvy, trade your muses and nuance for fame and famine

Pyramid schemes for your dreams, is it fair?, oh you’ll manage

Imagine what we fashion when we see through your glasses.

Tape your education through conversation then charge you for classes

We’ll rape your souls in the marriage bed and claim it never happened.

So what will it be, your roots or our fruits?

The trenches or the barracks?

Do you believe anything will stick if we hold the field of carrots?

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The End

I’m in love with….I could never finish the sentence
My regrets roused rancorous desires for regression
I was colour blind as the red flags flapped,
I felt so fly, the fact that I didn’t, feels impressive.
My ego was bedded by this boo as the crowd roared us on.
Economical with the truth about either of us being The One
We phoned in that blue light to the brain as though we were seeing
the sun.
The great depression was 3 rings away from speaking up.
Green was never my shade, yet blue was our colour.
We called a spade a spade while digging crates and graves for each other
To tolerate through desperation seemed a better vow than to love each other.
Desecrating the legacies of Father, Father and Mother.
Who we fancied remained a secret that not even mirrors could fathom.
If we get on, let’s see where it goes was the best chestnut, adage
We thought we had our onions in order so we ignored the sage.
This was a fools buffet, eat now and pay later
Needed more time to date but….
We were less diligent than a fan of James Yancey
Pilot of Aaliyah’s plane on an incredible flight of fancy
If you do best at a certain altitude, why lower the standards?
If our mutual anchor had matched us, the candle position was shifting.
If walking through hell was our job, we seemed fire resistant.
We did what was expected and found some return on the investment.
Blurring the burning yearning for affection with friendship.
The words house and mate were, for the most part, unconnected.
 The moment we took the breath away, I became we, with love in a sentence.
Now if this is a confession to someone who cannot give penance.
What are we to do with the fragments of our reflections?
We end.

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8/ 30 More Fire!

How much more love do we really need?

Does it look like more stable marriages and less divorcees?

More faith to find a way though we disagree?

Should there be less tantrums about our wants and needs?

Is it about acceptance instead of accommodation?

Is it a contract without an escape clause .

Is it enjoying the meal in spite of the waiter

How much more love do we really need?

If it truly starts with you and me….

Is self-love a missionaries position?

Is there a bible?

What’s the core values of this religion?

Are the different types of love denominations?

How do we get to more love if some loves seem hateful?

When love shows its face why can’t some fall for it?

Mass produced in many ways, is it cheapened by brand disloyalty?

 

Your love and my love should have some common ground.

When and where can this so called more love be found?

Is it in the 18 years you stayed for the kids

Believed in second chances while refusing to forgive

Refusing to forget and let he or she live

What’s love if you’re going to act like ….well I love you too much to use you as an insult

It is uncaging, reincarnating, composing without imposing

More than doting on your yes men

It’ll give you more exposure than a naturist at a winter clothing convention

Yes!  Full of foibles, fantasies and awe-inspiring flaws

Love is adding a rug, unafraid to be naked when you open the door.

Out of love we go to war and in love, we find peace.

If love makes the world go round, it takes your will just to be.

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Haiku: The Knot

the knot

Soul mates and timings
Desperation or comfort
Hell is for a fool

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Sailing

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The ship has sailed, but the sea lingers

Her fingers still fondle my timbers

The spine kindles like tinder.

Blocks shading the so-called rub of the green, my heart beats turn to cinders

When I look into the future and remember I kiss my present with the question.

Why does the sea linger?

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