Posts Tagged ‘Love’

Sorcery

Posted: February 8, 1993 in Poetry
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I have never felt power like this:
the strength to bear people’s friendship
without the artifices of forging my emotions
like the signatures of the dead
on a current document.

I find I’m liked for who I am
not everything I claim to be or wish I was;
pretense has always dampened the fires
that I was wanting to stoke;
I find the call is honesty and enthusiasm.

As soon as I found myself wonderful,
I couldn’t wait to show it of by being so –
no longer shivering in trying to be magnificent
so that I seem wonderful, I see myself
wonderful so everything I do from
my clear mind, my open heart, is wonderful.

The recognition of emotions for what they are
no matter how much they hurt in their true forms:
guilt or anger; shame, sadness; pain and love.
is a truth I must learn to find.

Wind in my Eyes

Posted: February 8, 1993 in Poetry
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I
where can I run to?
I am hiding from myself again.
I can’t turn around without feeling
what I’ve done and where I’ve been.

chorus
I’m falling away and I fall through your sky
I see the ground coming up and I forgot how to fly.
you taught me before and I never knew why
but now I’m falling and falling with the wind in my eyes.

II
I wander around in a daze
feeling strange about myself
I’m trying to keep my stomach level.
I’m trying to think of something else.

(chorus)

III
who knows where I’m going
maybe I’m just a crazy guy
but it feels more like being in love
than going out of my mind.

[unsung Pus and Zero Boy ditty]

Laura Moore in Red

Posted: February 5, 1993 in Poetry
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I
damn you and your love;
wouldn’t it be so much easier
if one of us hated the other.
I can’t hate you,
believe me I’ve tried;
I curse and strain
but I just cry and cry,
crying out for lost love:
to be able to love
and forgive,
forget.

II
I could drown in the tears I’ve cried
about loving you: I hurt inside.
the touch of your fingers, your time
are promises, memories from my mind.

III
I was clear, free from the haze
that characterized my early days
of loving and living, doing my forgiving
of all the hurt that’s ever been done to me.

whatever I need, stays.

IV
I slide from place to place
as worry gets ahold of my face
to sculpt away. I can’t stand
the tentative way you touch my hand,
that pleading look deep in your eyes
makes my foolish heart soar and dive.
I’m holding all my hourglass sand
in the useless sieve I’ve made with my hands;
the more of it that trickles away,
the bigger grows that personal haze.

Untitled Poem #144

Posted: January 25, 1993 in Poetry
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I write you a note
with the periwinkle crayon you left behind:
I am frightened that I still love you
in such abandon.
I know you feel it, too
with the turning of your stomach
and the helpless feelings.
I can’t tell you
what tomorrow will bring to us.
pray for flowers.

Inkslinger

Posted: January 20, 1993 in Poetry
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my ink gleams wetly
before it dries;
my love burns fiercely
before it dies
or so it seems,
disappears to surface in flying dreams.
love long corridors of paisley flowers
love perfect fires and books for hours
space and time,
meter and rhyme,
still my ink flows on and across
a purple crayon for my thoughts
to bring them to life, to tally my fright,
they hold me and make me, blindfolded, a Knight.

Kitty Litter

Posted: January 20, 1993 in Poetry
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if I was a cat
I’ve chased a mouse of yours
chewed it and played
to your chagrin.

dragons care so little –
true dragons, not gold-hungry worms
– that they’re made from clouds
and always fly.

an orange lightbulb transforms
a room into a Wonderland;
I made a game of room chess
of all my memories of you.

I just tell the time around here.

the hardest things I ever do
hurt like the break
of billiard balls
in my ears.
like telling you
that I hate you
when really I mean
I love you
when really I mean
I can’t let you in,
not right now
when really I mean
that I’m going to collapse
in confusion.

I want you so badly that
I can’t have you so badly.

Imitation of Jazzie B from Soul II Soul

Posted: January 18, 1993 in Poetry
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check this out:
I keep on moving don’t stop the clock
I can’t keep on without the tick-tock so I
I walk on, rock on, keeping my shoes on
I hear you sigh and sing the blues on the corner
by the storefront windows. I stop and I listen.
I remember us doing some kissin’
but I cannot live as I was doing:
chasing you around, forgiving, boo-hooing.
roads are there to walk and choices abound
I know I’ll see you around town because
I still love you just as much as ever
I miss your clear eyes and your stormy weather.
a piano reminds me of a lonely day song
that I played for all the times that I know I’ve been wrong,
but I change my tune to keep you grooving,
and like Soul II Soul I gotta keep on moving.

Lecture Notes : Quality : Part One

Posted: January 18, 1993 in Poetry
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as a man, I have searched for Quality, I think
in the smoke of my pipe-bowl,
sometimes mistaking it for “truth”;
I find it in the wind that catches my clothing.

as I’ve grown, I have wanted to love
so freely that it was change to a zillionaire:
giving without thinking of the response,
or of a response, or of that response.

as I’ve wanted I have built myself
into the most fragile sturdiness –
the only hurting comes from myself
and what I choose to believe.

Untitled Poem #140

Posted: December 26, 1992 in Poetry
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A Dog looked up
at a Crow; to fly
would be freedom.
A Crow looked down
on a Dog; to love
would be freedom.
A Man looked between
the two; to understand
would be freedom.

SoFarGone

Posted: December 26, 1992 in Poetry
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science is so far gone
it cannot see the point.
if love is natural selection
and just a chemical in the brain,
do marriage counselors just prescribe it?
do we spray it on our neighbors?
if a computer can write these poems
and ask these specific questions,
then what good are we
the imperfect human being?
if our drive to truly learn everything,
then why do we only look here, in science?
are we trying to make the perfect being;
it will be better than us.

Untitled Poem #139 and 1/2

Posted: December 24, 1992 in Poetry
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I am jealous of what you think:
all your monsters seem terribly attractive,
something to devour me right –
I mean, correctly.
you’re untouchable and yet
I know
that I’ve striped you
like being disembowelled with a Katana;
one white stripe, or a purple one
for you to look at
because I love you.

Ghoul

Posted: December 14, 1992 in Poetry
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I gnaw my way through coffin ends for him.
By night I stoop my way through hallowed tombs.
He waits below his house in shadows dim

In corridors I’ve hollowed into rooms.
He waits and watched me return with spoils
I’ve taken from the dead’s eternal gloom.

Beneath the graves, there in the endless coils
Of tunnels carved through earth without a tool,
The Bishops keep us slaving at their toils.

They don’t believe we feel; they think we’re fools
And that because we live in places dark,
Nobody thinks we love, they call us ghouls.

Degenerate, perhaps; a canine mark
To my appearance, but I still feel.
I wish I was human, to walk the park

And had not fell so far to sadly steal.

[terza rima]

Untitled Poem #138

Posted: December 11, 1992 in Poetry
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he thought of strength
in terms of eagles and coyotes:
creatures of power,
of flight and of prey.
he could hear the frogs croak
for him and for the death
he knew was behind his shoulder.
he knew that his writing
had changed. he knew that
he needed to live very differently;
to tell those he loved
how he felt, angry or sad
and live as a warrior who has
stopped the world from turning
without his knowledge.
he wanted most of all
to hold himself, that part
of his being who saw and
who guided him through
the forests and others
that he could write about
but couldn’t thread.

Whatever

Posted: December 5, 1992 in Poetry
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seriously, now: forever
and whatever comes next I
love you no matter what.
putting that into terms
crushes me; it is beyond words,
the palette I can paint with.
I can try.

nobody can make things stay
that want to go; so
it is the same with you.
a promise means the best
that you can do,
not binding forever, maybe
doomed to failure.
and I promise love to you
as my best
whatever that means…

Untitled Poem #137

Posted: November 25, 1992 in Poetry
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I want to write you
with my soul;
like a piece of bread
soaked in wine;
to stroke each word
like painting a lover,
then stand from the canvas
and murder myself
for ink.

Scarecrow

Posted: November 20, 1992 in Poetry
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I
to look at you as a scarecrow
doesn’t work; you don’t scare me
like that.
my heavy heart just tends to grow
heavier; strength starts to tear me
apart.

II
you are a singular flame
that sears me awake
from a comfortable death
of being a man with no name.
I need you to love me somewhat;
you must speak your mind
thinking through every breath,
knowing exactly where to cut.

III
this is for no one else but you,
but don’t think you’re not the one.
this could mean any number of things.

$ympathy

Posted: November 16, 1992 in Poetry
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so nothing happened between us.
is that what you believe?
is it easy to forget me?
is it easy just to leave?

I don’t want your sympathy.
I don’t know if you lie when you tell me
that you really love me.
what do I believe?
I don’t want your sympathy.
don’t stay if you really don’t want to.
you’ve got to tell me,
what should I believe?

do you think this is fair?
is this what I deserve?
you came crying to me,
and I’m the one who gets hurt.

(chorus)

iIm trying to blame myself.
you give me nothing to trust
while all the dreams of your love
crumble into dust.

(chorus)

Friends in Need

Posted: November 4, 1992 in Poetry
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On the pinnacles of cloudless happiness,
I must reach down to pull my friends up.

In the depths of darkest sorrow,
I must push to keep friends above me.

If I have all my wealth in one glass,
Then they are the mead in my cup.

And when I have no strength for the morrow,
It is these riches that carry and love me.

La Cascada

Posted: July 24, 1992 in Poetry
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Water falls as the hair and voices
Of nymphs at La Cascada.

Removing my shirt and glasses,
I place my eyes and nose
Through the surface of the pool
To be bathed by hands of water,

Falls like silver tinsel
Or ribbons of moonshine
And moss-maiden hair
Perpetually combed
By the white fingers of
La Cascada.

Her touch upon troubled features
Is like a lover smoothing covers,
Leaving pearls upon your eyelashes
for the morning.

Little Things

Posted: July 12, 1992 in Poetry
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I think I shall
take refuge in
my little dreams
of apes and frogs

little dreams of
big-eyed fish,
shedding tears never
seen underwater.

little dreams of
stands of trees
who whisper together
to protect me.

little dreams of
pools of color that
geyser happily
when I come to visit.

little dreams of
stars that know me
and of clouds that wave
as they pass by.

little dreams of
talking and
being heard when
I’m all alone.

little dreams that
I dream like birds
to wall out
the other dreams.

I think I shall
dream little dreams
of precious things
that love me.

Imitations of Sakanoe

Posted: April 28, 1992 in Poetry
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I
do not scowl to yourself
like a volcano
erupting orange saliva.
people will know you are angry.

II
do not smile to yourself
like a child who has
thought of something naughty.
people will catch you.

III
do not smile to yourself
because you are pleased
with all your talents.
it is not allowed.

IV
do not smile to yourself
like a white wall
splashed with dark paint.
people might notice you are in love

Never Tamed or Rochambeau

Posted: January 28, 1992 in Poetry
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I could kill you,
probably,
before you could react.
not now, though,
because you’re aware of the thought.
but sometime when you’ve forgotten,
I puncture your eyes
with hooked fingers,
or rip the bridge of your nose
off with savage teeth.
the potential is there.

I could love you,
probably,
before you could react.
not now, though,
because you’re aware of the thought.
but sometime when you’ve forgotten,
I admire your sight
without judging,
not interrupting your sense
of where you’re standing.
the potential is there.

the potential, flashing
as smoke rises from split rock.
whispering as dry paper
down a silent hall.
calling like idle scissors
twirled on your fingers.

I Have a Little Puppy

Posted: December 14, 1991 in Poetry
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I have a little puppy,
Her name is Laura Moore
She has a baby python
And I am hers for sure.
Her hair is red like crayons
She’s fun to tickle, too
My love for her is endless
And fat and big and true.

Untitled Poem #-4

Posted: October 30, 1991 in Poetry
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poetry comes as the shadow of a cloud
across my paper, staining the white,
and I only remember how much I was
in love with you for that moment.

Blocks

Posted: August 14, 1991 in Poetry
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I build more friends
to aid me when you’re gone.
I build songs to pass the time;
the melancholy ones
sound the best.
I build whole worlds to think about
that never get explored.
I build schemes to make you happy
and giggle and cry and love me more.
I build creatures mute and motionless
to breathe into at a later time
so they might jump to dance.
I build stories to tell myself
as I wait your return.

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