Storms

You raise storms beneath my skin
Each heartbeat a thunderclap,
But your green eyes are akin
To a soft breeze on my lap.

As your words rain on my ears,
Drowning worlds within my mind,
So the darkness disappears,
Leaving my heart’s dusk behind.

Lightning teeth between your lips
Flash a smile in my soul’s night.
But it ends like an eclipse,
Leaving me in shadow’s light.

And then like a passing gale,
You are just a memory.
And the days seem dry and stale,
And I am but Gregory.

An answer

I was sold in days of old
for a bag of pieces, thirty.
Though I was blessed from above,
Yet alas, my enemies

They were bold, the lies they told,
And they showed me no mercy.
How they pushed and how they shoved
my frail body on a tree.

So as I gaze upon thee,
my poor, lonely Gregory,
I see you are always kind,
to strangers who oft have less.

I can feel your empathy,
but also your agony,
though you think me deaf and blind
to your heart’s deep emptiness.

But know this, my aching child,
I promise soon you will meet
the soul for which you so long,
the woman of all your dreams.

Just hold on a little while.
She will be fair, bold, and sweet.
Know that I am never wrong.
Nothing is e’er what it seems.

Like a sword within the fire,
You must first be purified.
Like a wine inside a flask,
You must lose all bitterness.

Each new day you must aspire
to be just and dignified.
In this life, it is your task
to harbor no false regrets.

Learn to love, but not to yearn,
and above all, love yourself,
for if you curse who you are,
you assume that I have failed.

All things through work, you must earn,
Love sits not upon a shelf.
When you wish upon a star,
let your faith be its bright tail

A Prayer

In the shadows of my heart,
lurking behind the specters
which guard my heart from you,
there sleeps a little light.
 
But what keeps us both apart,
like iron-clad fetters,
is the mere thought that you,
so dazzling and bright,
 
might not even exist,
because God’s will might be
that I must live my life
as a lonely recluse.
 
So my soul, clenched like a fist,
screams and pleads with Destiny
in lofty clouds above
to let the specters loose.
 
And this tiny sleeping light,
which some men often call Hope,
seeks either the will of Fate
or my tongue’s deliverance.
 
Thus each day is like a night
in which blindly I grope
for a key to the gate
in the mansion of Chance.

Tempête

Je me demande si quand je serai vieux,
Et ma jeuness ne sera que mémoires,
Je me demande si je serai heureux.
Etant si seul, je ne peux point y croire.
Combien de femmes mes yeux ont-ils suivis?
En ésperant mes regards retournés?
Combien de rires ont semé ma folie?
Quoique paisible, secrètement tourmenté.

J’aurais voulu amour avant amie,
Comme un Chrétien, la vie avant la mort.
J’aurais donné mon cœur avec oubli,
Mais l’amitié est le plus grand trésor,
Car le voyage vaut plus que l’abordage.
J’aimerais y être sans avoir essayé.
Ah, ce voyage, il m’offre aucun soulage!
Quoique paisible, secrètement tourmenté.

Ces belles lettres, écrites avec fureur
Ne furent que mots étranglés sans pitié.
Ma langue nouée par une timide peur,
Causera-t-elle ma solitude damnée?
Je pense le mieux, mais ne dis que le pire.
Ma plume flourit, mais ma bouche est fanée.
Mon amour fou, je ne peux que l’écrire.
Quoique paisible, secrètement tourmenté.

May Tomorrow Come

My palms are wet, my throat is dry,
My heart with yearning breathes a sigh,
For well I know, a kiss held back today
May never come tomorrow.

Who knows what Fate has stored for me?
It may be love, or misery.
But well I know, a kiss held back today
May never come tomorrow.

Why did I wait for you to break
This bashfulness?  My worst mistake!
For I should know, a kiss held back today
May never come tomorrow.

Maybe I wish that you will see
That only you can set me free…You may not know, a kiss held back today
May never come tomorrow.

If you could see into my mind,
These very words, then, you would find:
“Do you not know, your kiss held back today
May never come tomorrow?”

I pray you not to think me bold
If more than touch, I want to hold,
But you must know, a kiss held back today
May never come tomorrow.

H2O

The red tide of your lips
washes through my senses
and floods my heart with desire.
like a tsunami, your hair
crashes against the rocks of my self-control
and fills me with recklessness.
Your smile is the eye of the hurricane,
unhurried peacefulness
amidst my furious passion.
And each minute, I pray
that like a river into the sea,
you will rush into my arms.

Reminiscence

Like a swan, graceful and proud,
You glide across the lake of my eyes.
I am left with quiet desperation
As beauty ripples out from you.

You glide across the lake of my eyes,
Your smile leaves a wake of hopes.
As beauty ripples out from you,
My heart is flooded with uncertainty.

Your smile leaves a wake of hopes.
I fish for something to say, but
My heart is flooded with uncertainty.
My words are but sunken rocks.

I fish for something to say, but
Your beauty drowns all my thoughts.
My words are but sunken rocks.
You have disturbed the waters of my existence.

Your beauty drowns all my thoughts.
I have been sadder ever since
You have disturbed the waters of my existence.
Everything was so peaceful before.

I have been sadder ever since
You have disappeared from my life.
Everything was so peaceful before
The tides of Life carried you away.

You disappeared from my life
Like a swan, graceful and proud.
The tides of Life carried you away.
I am left with quiet desperation.

Laundromat Dreams

Thoughts of you
tumble and turn in my mind
like my clothes on the spin cycle,
and the contained hum of the machines
is the mantra which lulls me back
into your world.
Through half-closed eyes, I see you
float your smile to me, and I remember
that it was here I first saw it,
a smile innocent yet devious,
with your freckled nose crinkled on the bridge,
your wooden hair cropped short,
your blue eyes steadily washing over me like a spring stream…
a reflection in the rippled pools
of misty fantasy,
I sigh to myself philosophically…
your voice is but an echo
bouncing off the silence of my drunken stupor,
boredom,
faint enough to be too distant,
clear enough to be too close.
A loose coin clanking irregularly
against the window of the drier is
the lifeline
which binds me to this world:
it jars my senses, reminding me that
I am here, and not with you.
The drier stops, washing
me back into my body.
I put another dime in the slot,
hoping
to buy a little more time
with you, if only in my dreams.

Rock

Jolted from my assembly line past,
Enraptured by a dream-carved future, my meticulous soul
Needed you most, like a rock roughened by the icy winds of time
Needs a particular sculptor.   you offered yourself
Inside my life, like liquid fire offers itself to the steel which will slice
Form and breath into a formless and breathless matter.
Eventually, by your making, i will be, can be, nothing less than the
Realized repetition of your most heartfelt and craved visions.

my

Form is borne of your dreams, they hold everything.  dream,
Anticipate my lips pressing softly against yours, feel the
Need to whisper my name self-consciously under your breath,
Turn in your head like a chinese puzzle the image of my face, let
All that you see around you be a blueprint for my calling.
Slowly, make
Yourself mine.

The Love Song of John Smith

How then should I presume?
And where should I begin?
Dare I, dare I assume
My words her heart to win?

Am I to be a brute?
For them it seems to work!
O, Passion, bottled fruit,
So trapped by my pride’s cork!

Love seems so natural
(In my mind, ’tis but said!)
Yet how phenomenal
That I am so afraid!

So drowned by sirens’ songs!
So maddened by their charms!
Each day this body longs
With agony, cruel and warm.

The hero in disguise
Is he whose tongue is fool.
I cannot speak those lies!
So silence, then, must rule.

A silence fraught with pain,
Madness bound by a string.
A traveler waxed in vain,
For still the sirens sing.

They know nothing of it!
And still I am to blame.
Must I so calmly sit
And watch their botched up game?

O, Mephistopheles!
Tempted am I to bet
That of those fair lilies,
Any one could I get.

The devil with my care!
I know just what to say!
The color of my hair
Grows whiter every day!

And yet, what if she mocks
Attempts to bare my soul,
And hurls against the rocks
The words to make us whole?

What foolish beast am I,
So trapped in my own snares?
From Courting must I flee
For having found her bare.

Melancholy, my cave,
(Of hope, I am bereft!)
I hope one day ’twill save
The few words I have left.

But no!  Leave me to grief,
And let my tears be proof
That Love’s only relief
Is to be kept aloof.

For is this what I seek?
To gain a nightingale
Whose thoughtless chirpings reek
of boredom, rank and stale?

And is this what I want?
A moulded empty mote
Who constantly must chant
A ritual learned from rote?

And yet, what else is there
Among trivialities
Where cruelty laid bare
Doth hide in niceties?

Am I the sole remains
Of empty faithless lines?
Or am I, then, the Fool
(And do they see the signs)?

My temple has no place
In worlds without a faith
Where Truth is but a face
Where Love is but a wraith.

So let me die in peace
Each day a little more.
One day, my hopes will cease.
Eros will be no more.

As summer turns to fall,
Then fall into winter,
I must forget the Call
To make them all better.

Their games will become Truth.
My rules will never be.
And then, as passes Youth,
My desire, set free.

Let silence be the rule.
Let Pain be what I praise.
If I am thus the Fool,
Then Love be but a maze.

Go on, you oafish boys,
And sputter all your lies!
If women be your toys,
My dreams, therefore, are sighs.

Aphrodite, goodbye!
You were my only love.
But now, Boredom’s dead cry
Is all that rings Above.

And now he speaks to her,
Not caring what he says.
And as I look at her,
She seems as in a daze.

She slowly nods her head
And feigns to hear him speak.
(But how her heart is dead,
For all his words are weak!)

A Cerce with a swine,
(Yet still her smile she keeps!)
His lust, the potent wine
Which lulls her to her sleep.

I yearn to offer her
The treasures in my tongue.
I need to rescue her
From boredom’s plaintive song.

How then should I presume?
And where should I begin?
Dare I, dare I assume
My words her heart could win?