tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37593610783426882472024-02-20T05:19:57.106-08:00Sad Man on the Moon's Blue RoomThis is my Poetry blog, that's all, hope you enjoy it.SadManontheMoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10473709917310463418noreply@blogger.comBlogger28125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759361078342688247.post-39921223100006999012006-12-17T03:27:00.000-08:002006-12-17T03:29:24.348-08:00The Broken Bootstrap of thee Lawd<span style="color:#ff0000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">Our land was never ours,<br />Our flag has never hung,<br />Our wars were never fought,<br />Nor anthems ever sung.<br />And though we've never lost, my son,<br />We have never won.<br />Yeah, as long as it's been for us<br />We've yet to win<br />A goddamned thing from anyone.</span>SadManontheMoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10473709917310463418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759361078342688247.post-29967397622064798782006-12-17T03:14:00.000-08:002006-12-17T03:27:33.624-08:00A puppet play<span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>Debra</strong>: I am the prettiest girl in town!<br />I make the poets sing till they weep<br />And the guitarist sing and play their melodies<br />till the strings of their little wooden instruments snap!<br />I'm the prettiest girl in town!<br />The prettiest girl in town! The prettiest girl<br />In the whole damned town!<br />And you cannot turn me down!<br />I make all men weak...<br />( <span style="color:#000099;">Rose petals rain down, the air smells of a pink<br />Fragrant mist.)</span><br /><strong>Antonio</strong>: I'm sure you do.<br /><strong>Debra</strong>: (angrily) why aren't you singing to me?!<br />Are you blind?!<br /><strong>Antonio</strong>: ( indifferently) Love is blind. I have eyes to see,<br />And a heart of stone. Your soul is an ugly ghost,<br />But your beauty is indeed profound.<br />(<span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#000099;">Blue clouds are gathering, serpent lightning whips<br />the horizon, a witch's storm is forming, praying<br />priest have gone into hiding, the sun has turned<br />a blood red colour, Moses weeps, the mountains<br />rise from the sea.)</span><br /><strong>Debra</strong> : I am beautiful, I am beautiful,<br />I am too beautiful for you! And no man<br />Can resist me! My beauty is too beautiful to believe!<br />( sadly) Why won't you sing the prettiest song to me?<br /><strong>Antonio</strong> : ( lazily) I am the wounded heart and the knife.</span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">(lighting! and he ambles off R stage, blue door) Exeunt...</span>SadManontheMoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10473709917310463418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759361078342688247.post-33203405473571797582006-12-17T02:55:00.000-08:002006-12-17T03:14:19.827-08:00babblefish junk<span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;">" I've got to let things go,</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;">my friend, we both do...</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;">....Someplace new would</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"> be nice. Someplace I</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;">can't help but behave...</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;">...Away from here</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;">Away from these situations."</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;">There are loose ends</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;">we need to tie up,</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;">we need to speak</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;">Been a long while.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;">sit</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;">Respond</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;">"what will you do?"</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"><em>"I'll carry my bones</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"><em>down some other old road"</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;">It will never leave you.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;">It'll haunt you.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;">Shadow your ordinary talk.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;">Like ghost, really...</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;">so sad to see you leaving like this</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;">didn't want to lose you.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span>SadManontheMoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10473709917310463418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759361078342688247.post-66890382427267809282006-12-17T01:48:00.000-08:002006-12-17T01:51:50.296-08:00stuff<span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff00;">I've grown tired of slam poetry. Not to say that it isn't a viable form of art, no, not at all. There have been great slam poets. I went to the nuyorican a few weeks ago. A Canadian "poet" rambled on about god don't know....this city needs a school, its own movement outside of slamming.</span>SadManontheMoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10473709917310463418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759361078342688247.post-10640798530397057662006-12-17T01:46:00.000-08:002006-12-17T01:47:47.292-08:00Suicide of an old Poet<span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#ff0000;"><br />Floor.<br />Drops gun.<br />Dull thud.<br />Bang.<br />Leans in<br />On chair. Head<br />Hangs.<br />Slack jawed yawn.<br />Dead<br />Man's eyes opened.<br />Gone blank.<br />Sallow<br />Hue of<br />an old old soul.<br />By his own<br />Hand goes into<br />the life hereafter.<br />...Damned to<br />be damned,<br />Unforgiven<br />By God almighty<br />Amen!<br />Soiled himself<br />his pants...<br />Amen!<br />Runeth shit<br />slop it drips<br />mortition sings<br />Goddamn!<br />lawd<br />He sings<br />Goddamned!</span>SadManontheMoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10473709917310463418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759361078342688247.post-9898369555690369092006-12-17T00:58:00.000-08:002006-12-17T00:59:26.153-08:00Rainy Day Memory<span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">It's a cold, rainy day in the city...<br />...and all these faces, strange<br />And ugly in their expressions,<br />And all of these dreams,<br />And the strong scent of rum on<br />underlying meanings of words that<br />seem to wabble off the tongue of<br />all the drunks you knew and loved<br />The wind leaves a whisper in her mouth,<br />she doesn't speak ,<br />on a hundred and 85th street i met<br />one lonely walk through a lonely park<br />one lonely day spent along<br />the lonesome crowded ways where love<br />sits with hunger<br /><br />all that matters now is the warm<br />beer I am holding in my<br />left hand writing this with my right<br />now and the pad precariously lying on my lap<br />slipping slowly in time..<br />...Gravity sans friction and<br />my mind on a straight line<br />into the sun<br /><br />And what right have I to tell you<br />How to live your life if I<br />can barely stand the sight of my own<br />goddamned face in the cracked<br />moldy looking-glass of<br />my life's memories thus far...<br />reflecting,considering,looking back<br />less you get stabbed and die<br />like a dead dog in the streets..worthless<br />now no bones to bury<br />paws to dig or anything deep<br />worth dirt mentioning four...<br />on all fours on my neighbors lawn<br /><br />...23 turns round the sun<br />and I've yet to enjoy a sunshiny<br />day as of yet.....A rainy day<br />afternoon in the autumn of my candle<br />dreaming burning at two ends candle<br />of a lousy life like weeds<br />growing on god's good earth it seems to be<br /><br />I fucked a durty drunken<br />dizzy dame today...right on my neighbors<br />moonlit lawn...the grass was more of a short<br />emerald gray than a high growing green grass<br />to my knees and she on hers sucks and fucks me<br />for free...a prostitute she was<br />too young and all too beautiful<br />and we kissed and she undressed and pulled<br />down my pants in a fit of desired gravity<br />and she passes the joint before flying on south<br />was my pretty bird May<br />was my little hearts prey<br />for a night and day<br /><br />and her voice was like honey<br />her lips like ripe<br />cherries and her panties were soaked for love of me..<br />lovely girl<br />and she fucked me for free..<br />sweet sweet girl<br />of mine happy one day memories<br />this drunken poem in love<br />to answer your question ...<br />the only thing you asked of me...<br />miss you boo and your laughter<br />and I'd like to wish you a happily ever after..</span>SadManontheMoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10473709917310463418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759361078342688247.post-71776383471562668262006-12-17T00:49:00.000-08:002006-12-17T00:52:52.329-08:00Poet in LoLove<span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#ff0000;"><em><strong>what good is a poet in love?<br />-when it is the melancholic words<br />of his heart's discontent that amuses<br />the world so....<br />Pleased as anyone I know<br />laughing at his morose<br />moronic hackneyed pose in being<br />one of those old old<br />bitter rotten souls that<br />happen to be worth something at least...If only<br />For a poems senseless jibberish<br />and a couple of lines that read like gold...<br />A babblefish piss drunk<br />and wobbly wine bottle precariously<br />perched on a ball that has no sides at all<br />...yeah,a miracle really....<br /><br />and often..<br />"he's a poet? but he's such a slob,<br />a goddamned pig really!<br />smells like cheese and cheap<br />booze...hasn't shaved in weeks<br />and his hair hangs loose<br />covering his eyes<br />when the wind wind don't blow...<br />he writes poems? really?<br />well, i'll be damned..<br />damned as he...(sound of bitter laughter<br />and his happily ever after pose)<br />sickening really...<br /><br />what good is a poet in love?<br />love is a joke<br />that they won't let us in on...<br />...with a punchline that<br />just doesn't ever<br />ever really end...</strong></em></span>SadManontheMoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10473709917310463418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759361078342688247.post-70678255715633900192006-12-17T00:47:00.000-08:002006-12-17T00:49:19.248-08:00Dawn<span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">I have gone out at dawn,</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">Walking these deserted streets alone,</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">with a patience....on my way,And I'm on my way......</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">To the edge of living.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">Where moons and flowers still bloom</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">in a cold garden.</span>SadManontheMoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10473709917310463418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759361078342688247.post-45848312611660339682006-12-17T00:42:00.000-08:002006-12-17T00:44:38.369-08:00CatsKill, New York<span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;">Who was there to see?</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;">From which saddened field, my friend?</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;">Was it you? Was it you then,my windyfriend?</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;">Was it you who witnessed the burning </span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;">end of this assault?Was it you then?</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;">Who leaned into the breeze </span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff9900;">Heavy with hurricanes and lightning?</span>SadManontheMoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10473709917310463418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759361078342688247.post-14292581339633441702006-12-17T00:38:00.000-08:002006-12-17T00:42:39.294-08:00Just a thought<span style="color:#ff0000;">I've been thinking about quiting this whole writing thing, but is that possible? I've never been one to go coldturkey on anything, but my chickens beat(poetic aly spreken?) my minds fatigued.</span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">I'm thinking of leaving it off for a couple of months. spend most of the time reading someone else's work. Billy Collins, Charles Simic, bukowski, eliot, of course, neruda lorca shakespeare E.Pound...etc.etc.'s</span>SadManontheMoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10473709917310463418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759361078342688247.post-24843160404007237732006-12-17T00:11:00.000-08:002006-12-17T00:12:39.847-08:00Puerto Rican Anthem<span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;">...Our fathers drank together,</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;">Our brothers cursed and fought.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;">Our mothers danced together</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;">A sleepy time in waltz.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;">Their laughter broke the moon in two.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;">Their anger burnt the sun...</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;">and all is good,all is good,Yes,</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"> all of that is good my brother...</span>SadManontheMoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10473709917310463418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759361078342688247.post-80595770191328234502006-12-17T00:09:00.000-08:002006-12-17T00:10:39.106-08:00Haunting Love<span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#ff0000;"><em>Haunting Love. Huntress of Dark Desires.<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">ThereIn</span> the gathering twilight. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">MoonlightBreathing</span> blue.The end comes suddenly. Dead among <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">blossoming Flowers</span>. Post <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Mordumb</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">madnesslives</span> to be still-born. A mother's grief.Pain of creations desired desire to be creative.Modern <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Matrinomy</span>. Terribly wounded, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">shadowy Singing</span> sisters pray.Charming melody of seaside <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">girls </span></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#ff0000;"><em><span class="blsp-spelling-error" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Decked</span> in silky blood <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">redDresses</span> weeping wailing <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">weary Maid</span>-of-honors.Seas. </em></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#ff0000;"><em><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">Smiles Of</span> mourning women.Good Idea he had of it Mr <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">JoyceSays</span>. </em></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#ff0000;"><em>Smart idea, certainly so," Marry in May and repent in December"Long and short of it.<br />And one <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">nightThey'll</span> bring you the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">legOf</span> a duck." and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">soLife</span> limps on....Befitting storm clouds gather Above his head.Pleasing as anything to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">seaCottony</span> clouds of vengeance.<br />"When did ye return?" Emily <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">askedIndifferently</span> thinking"... Dick is sin..."Emily in fading blue denim jeans,In the arms of her lover, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">broadArmed</span> Mr.<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">CollinsThere</span> in the land of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">deadJust</span> 'round <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">th'way</span>, and he" I've returned just last week" <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">GreyHound</span> bus from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">ReadingTo</span> Penn Station...asleeping...Were you waiting long?"Thinks" The splendor of travelling cheap!"To himself thinking"Sweet taste of her ovaries"Wearing <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">moonblue</span> shoes <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">newIn</span> a striped suit splintering at the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)">seamsForsaken</span> In silence,Silent in cruelty.</em></span>SadManontheMoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10473709917310463418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759361078342688247.post-60304253588327460682006-12-17T00:07:00.002-08:002006-12-17T00:08:41.351-08:00Dancers in the Graveyard<span style="font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;">The moon watches the boy sleep ,andsees his soul reflected in the burning eyes of the sun.It was an impossible dream really.And the vagabonds were singing softlyThe blue lullabies of The Bronx.As that wild untamed band of outcastTrobadours slept so peacefullyBeneath a bridge crossing the East River.Dancers in the graveyard sing a songand the Lovers on the lawn sing along"We shot your God! We shot your God..."And the angels didn't have their wingson at all."CauseYour God's a dog!lyinglike a knife in the red'snot sharp at all,and the dogs not fedshot up and full of lead...<br />...Dead and gone and full of lead...</span>SadManontheMoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10473709917310463418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759361078342688247.post-28777337268388541192006-12-17T00:07:00.001-08:002006-12-17T00:07:28.966-08:00Shut the blinds<span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">My eyes are closed as I shut the blinds, and I sleepand dream of a thought that Ikeep heated under the sheets when my mind wakes up surprised and groggy wit ether. And I'm feeling fine as I survivenine to five beat up and easily cheated.When Iwake upto find that I 've survived crazy nightslips and fightsfist and love hips and eyes spinning,equaly bleeding.</span>SadManontheMoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10473709917310463418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759361078342688247.post-11992212513984598442006-12-17T00:04:00.000-08:002006-12-17T00:06:13.670-08:00Because of Mike<span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><strong><em>Trying to write a poem.Trying to sing a universe in song.The world in twelve words.A play In one act,one lineThen it's all over.A dream in one scene.A starry night's skyAnd a cast of young lovers.-PersephoneBurning BloodA burning eye in mindLove...As love sits with hungerAlong the lonesomeCrowded ways.</em></strong></span>SadManontheMoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10473709917310463418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759361078342688247.post-91371239398329217212006-12-16T19:27:00.000-08:002006-12-16T19:29:01.444-08:00Promises<span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">"Love laughs at locksmiths"<br /><br /><br />to himself thinking in mind speaks...<br /><br />"I will love you till the end of time.<br />Till the sun burns itself to nothing<br />and the earth folds in on itself.<br />and the stars tremble in their empty spaces..."<br /><br /><br />The man sat down<br />beneath an orange tree<br />and lit a cigarette.<br />Watching the silk fumes<br />slowly<br />Rising,<br />Gently dissipating<br />Into the mild morning air.<br />Listening in<br />on the gardeners<br />Talk. Quite pleased to hear,<br />what was to him, the sylvan<br />speache of nature's good<br />and honest gentlemen.<br /><br />-Honest enough in their ways.<br /><br />The man sat down<br />and lit a cigarette.<br />He watched the girl<br />from across the field<br />Trying to undo<br />the knots on her boots.<br />was a slender girl<br />In a baggy uniform.<br /><br />Her bright blond hair.<br />The mild morning air.<br />Smell of tobacco burning<br />and he was off<br />daydreaming and<br />Remembering...<br />...We could start anew<br />in a whole new town.<br />Change our names<br />and catch a train<br /><br />The man sat down<br />and lit a cigarette.<br />The girl stood by<br />the bulletin board where<br />the bus schedules<br />were posted, arms crossed<br />starring at a modest band<br />of clouds like ribbons<br />floating on<br />towards the burning glow<br />of the dying sun lying low<br />on the horizon.<br /><br />" We'll make it." He said, "<br />Don't you worry<br />'bout a thing, babes..."<br />" How can you be so sure?"<br />she said, " as bad as our<br />lucks been lately.<br />Feels like, well...maybe...<br />God must really hate me...<br />and I don't...<br />well... I don't know how..."<br />" you gotta have a little faith<br />...Please, for my sake,<br />Don't be that way<br />...good news will come our way...<br />just wait and see."<br />" Don't be that way, please..."<br />" Well, why not?"<br />" Just you wait and see.<br />A little luck will come our way,<br />and we'll have everything<br />We ever wanted:<br />Children,<br />a house,<br />a car,<br />a dog,a cat<br />a nice and quiet life<br />a little peace of mind<br />family, some friends...white picket fence,<br />a tire swinging in the backyard,<br />a tree, some sky,<br />a lonely Lover's Lane nearby<br />perhaps...<br />...friendly neighbours<br />borrowing sugar and such,<br />and then<br />and then Key West...Key West.<br />A pretty palm tree scene...<br />or even Paris<br /><br />In the spring<br />resting from lifes worries<br />retired from it's nine to five<br />tragedy...<br />reposed,restful<br />with little left to do<br />but love you<br /><br />and I do<br />I do<br />I do<br /><br />" we could begin again."<br /><br />And she<br /><br />" I want to live without<br />dreaming.<br />I want to breathe<br />The sea-air and wander<br />wild and free..."<br /><br />and he<br /><br />" I'll buy you a diamond ring<br />a pretty diamond ring<br />for a wedding<br />in the spring."<br /><br />"you'll see,<br />a little luck will come our way,<br />and I'll make good on all<br />these promises to keep."</span>SadManontheMoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10473709917310463418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759361078342688247.post-74754029530819150962006-12-16T19:24:00.000-08:002006-12-16T19:25:03.319-08:00Windy Windows<span style="color:#ff0000;">A dry wind that carries in it the names<br />of forgotten songs and alphabets,<br />Circling the antique angles of intricate books.</span>SadManontheMoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10473709917310463418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759361078342688247.post-26683266446818098372006-12-16T19:23:00.000-08:002006-12-16T19:24:01.390-08:00Eulogy<span style="color:#ff0000;">If life is,As many poets have held it,But a fleeting momentary dreamwe should all be loathed to awakeTo eternities grim reality.<br />Youth is but a hope of gainand gardens wherein bloomlove's sensuous roses.We will not be made to live again.......and our names will be forgotas soon as the casket closes.<br />And where are those we loveIn the hour of our greatest pain?.......They are all asleep in their bedsDreaming of tomorrowsand tomorrow's cheap,borrowed gain.while you, my distant friend,Brush the dust from off your eyesTo wake in some distant planewherein all poets sing in praiseof bygone days and long lived friends<br />Hymns to the suffering soulsWho on wings of woefulmeloncholic hopeDie alittle while each day.......And long to fly from where their bones will remain......And all that's leftare the sharp cliffs of highpassionand sentences writ......Though your bonesto dust will changeYour words shall not decay......And may you rest in peacetill the coming hourOf our waking hour...<br />if life is truly but a dream...</span>SadManontheMoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10473709917310463418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759361078342688247.post-60994155191012073922006-12-16T19:20:00.000-08:002006-12-16T19:22:12.209-08:00Je suis<span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;">Je suis seul. Je suis un poèt. Il est bon d'être seul. Il est mauvais d'être un poèt. nous sommes les saints en arrière, ou les diables à l'envers. Anges, terriblement beaux. Solitude de grace blessée. et endroits chauds.</span>SadManontheMoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10473709917310463418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759361078342688247.post-5527052654713222402006-12-16T19:18:00.000-08:002006-12-16T19:20:45.574-08:00Ms.Lovelace she says<span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#ff0000;">I tried to patch the broken pieces of a picture,<br />But my hands trembled a bit too much, Nervous<span></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#ff0000;"></span><br />it seems, and the blue-jay in its cage doesn't sing,<br />nor has it any reason to do so. perhaps<br />Matthew's letter sits unopened by the papers on the table.<br />and suddenly, in retrospect,<br />I suspect I am alone.then someone shakes<br />the phone rings and breathes rhythmically<br />to the tune of some undiscernible heart-beat bop.</span>SadManontheMoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10473709917310463418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759361078342688247.post-24143377701101891382006-12-16T19:15:00.000-08:002006-12-16T19:18:07.382-08:00Emblem For a Keepsake Locket<span style="font-size:180%;color:#ffff00;">Your heart is like a little house burning with no love to put the fire out.</span>SadManontheMoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10473709917310463418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759361078342688247.post-25251436775148815012006-12-16T19:14:00.000-08:002006-12-16T19:15:39.613-08:00In an Insane Season<span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">Between dreams and memories<br />Hangs the bitter fruit of your love.<br />An anxious kiss<br />on the lips of insanity.</span>SadManontheMoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10473709917310463418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759361078342688247.post-35567878966987201642006-12-16T19:13:00.000-08:002006-12-16T19:14:28.215-08:00Lover's are always drunk<span style="color:#ff0000;">Lovers are always drunkLovers are always wailing.This is what brings them joy.If someone were to ask me about love,I just wouldn't know what to say.Just thinking of it brings me to grief.Lovers are always drunk,Drunk on the wine Poured from the lonely one's heart.</span>SadManontheMoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10473709917310463418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759361078342688247.post-26624929248050330282006-12-16T19:11:00.000-08:002006-12-16T19:13:33.879-08:00Inkwell<span style="color:#ff0000;">Was an impossible dream really,And the world was without words.And in silenceThe suffering speache of a peopleA modest mouse-coloured peopleWithin a word wasGhostly gray,And no one ever hears a word they say.One by one the Butterflies go offDrowning in the inkwell.And a band of gypsy thieves Sing in memory of their mountains and Heights,As no one falls out of the skyAnd love falls backwards into death.In a word,a whisper,the final cry,A meloncholic shout!</span>SadManontheMoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10473709917310463418noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3759361078342688247.post-43926930367653855522006-12-16T02:02:00.000-08:002006-12-16T02:04:06.743-08:00For Destiny<span style="color:#ff0000;">We carry the love of our most cherished ones in our hearts.And Though they may leave us, Our love for them will not leave us aloneIn the sadness of our missing them.Remembering the smiles they've smiled,The words they spoke and songs they've sungWe will never loose our love for themNor will they ever be completely gone.<br />Downpours bring empty, barren fields to lifeand so your tears will , in the endprove goodAnd spring's bloom comesnot long after the stormsthat bring our loves to lifeLeave our shipwrecked heartswashed ashore.<br />Sadness is suffering and sufferingis a prelude to peace and true happiness.Time heals all woundsAnd love will mask the remnant scars of these hard earned wounds,I'm sure.<br />Love truly laughs at locksmithsand so it doesn't make much sensemy love, to keep your sadnesschained and bound in silence.......sadness is a symptom of yourLove and so set it freeand weep if you wish,weep till your heart is spentYour tears will soon be driedby the lovers kiss.InThat love that just doesn't endor ever die.<br />Spring promises her fragrant gardens of love blooming in her souls beautybeneath the bright glow of aflowering moon.<br />You'll be happy and in time real soon.<br />I promise</span>SadManontheMoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10473709917310463418noreply@blogger.com0