September 17, 2013

 

 

Even though there were battles

and heated spats,

it’s agony without you –

Oh, how I so miss our chats.

 

Even though there were times

I could have wrung your neck,

to see you once more,

over mountains I’d trek.

 

So, to this day

even though you are gone,

you can be sure that your memory

lives on and on.

 

 

 

 

September 16, 2013

 

 

Who bought what

from whom and when

will they next buy it

back again?

 

Who sold what

to whom and why

was there never,

a hue and cry?

 

Who gave what

to the world at large,

without expecting

a shoulder charge?

 

Who lost it all,

who saw no sense,

but now has freedom

as recompense?

 

 

 

 

 

Now long lost love is

but a dying ember,

and times well spent,

they won’t remember.

 

On a forgotten spool

or misplaced tape,

lies an unreachable love,

from which there’s no escape.

 

For no magic key

or combination number,

can unlock those days,

that are but silent slumber.

 

Forever, like tomorrow,

means infinity at the time,

but in reality, tomorrow,

becomes a mausoleum shrine.

 

 

 

 

 

Now may be the time

to get in touch,

after so many

years have elapsed.

 

She might just need you

more than you think –

Her relationship

could have collapsed.

 

Now may be the time

to resolve the past,

by putting the stop

on any further decay.

 

She might still feel

the same way as you,

and be able to cast aside

the problems of yesterday.

 

Now may be the time

to make your move,

and therefore

pent up emotion release.

 

She might just be waiting,

as I suspect she is.

Get in touch, and

give her heart peace.

 

 

 

 

You’re full of bullshit,

full of lies.

I don’t believe

your alibi’s.

 

You’re full of patter,

full of french fries.

I know the truth,

I have my spies.

 

 

 

 

He never said a word,

he didn’t need to.

His eyes said it all,

and she knew what

she must do.

 

He didn’t promise the moon,

he didn’t need to.

His touch said it all,

and to herself she

must be true.

 

He never knew her name,

he didn’t need to.

But she lives on in his mind,

and helps to get

him through.

 

He shouldn’t have crossed the line

but felt he had to.

And now, a lifetime later,

still recalls a love

he never knew!

 

 

 

September 8, 2013

 

 

He spoke with words

I never knew,

like pixipummelisation

and amoranious brew.

 

He spoke with words

I’d never heard,

like nudistratum

and matricrapation squared.

 

He spoke with words

that made no sense,

like septojuranic

and insignatious defence.

 

He spoke with words

that went over my head,

like montimountiness

and stigmatatous dread.

 

He spoke with words

just to keep me impressed.

I always knew he’d made them up,

but of course, he never guessed.

 

 

September 6, 2013

 

 

When the salt in our wound

has washed away,

and the healing process,

stopped the decay.

We should feel blessed,

to be given the chance.

It’s only natures way –

the boil, to lance.

 

When the plaster of paris

has done it’s job,

and held firm the break

that made us sob.

And yet even years later,

when with oil, we anoint.

It’s always going to be

our weakest point.

 

When lovesick fever

confines us to bed,

and no amount of medication

heals our head.

We lay awake til dawn

and toss and turn,

recalling lost decades

for love we still yearn.

 

When the point of incision

cuts through the heart,

and arteries sever,

as we fall apart.

We build a defence –

a show for the world.

Though inside our cocoon

remaining, tightly curled.

 

When at the end of our days

and our heart beats no more,

and ‘Do not resuscitate’

says the sign upon the door.

And all the hell raising,

is now a thing of the past.

Yet, through agony and ecstasy

we lived life with a blast.

 

When deep in the ground

with our demons we’re buried,

and a life that was fast

is no longer hurried.

And although we may hammer

on the coffin lid,

only distant voices can be heard,

saying, ‘Farewell, see ya kid’. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There are places to put it

that are dry.

Places that won’t catch

the naked eye.

Places where it only

can be seen

for whom it is meant,

and will stay clean.

 

There are places to put it

if you try.

Places not too low

and not too high.

Places where there are

unspoken laws,

for feathered friends,

away from feline jaws.

 

 

 

 

 

I have no recollection

of your blurred reflection.

I don’t even think you were there.

 

Had I seen the reflection

of your curved perfection.

Damn it, I’d know you were there.

 

Show me a line of perfection

queued up for selection

So true, I’d have a good stare

 

But there is no selection

just the same old reflection

year in, year out – I depair.

 

 

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