Observations From The Barber Shop

So we brokered no thoughts of desertion
When the prophets confessed to their fraud
And the sinners who watched from the dance floor
Demanded their share of our God

How I loved you forever and ever
As I sang the song Sweet Adeline
So we waltzed to a tune that was silent
But our steps could not keep the time

Ah we danced to a jig that was broken
As the candle burned low in the night
From the wax of each candle we moulded
An effigy golden and bright

Then the effigy stood on a bar stool
And recited the mantra of pain
Then to all of the fools who would listen
It recited her mantra again

Now our feet they are bloody and swollen
As the music continues to play
We have danced every year of forever
We have danced for not even a day

Now I bid you fare well for the evening
As the partners continue to change
And they play Adeline everlasting
Before turning over the page

Things To Do When We Sleep

Ten thousand
words fell to
earth,
blazing like
sun's.

Each carried
a prophetic
vision,
that scorched
my conscious,
and remained
late into the day.

Then I became
the little Buddha,
sitting without
distraction,
my perversions
unbridled,
my demands
exacting,
my thoughts...

Controlled?

Resurgence

You told me I was
always at my
best in the
dead of
night.
Words
that were
profound
with musical
accompaniment
made us weep.

Oh how you tested me
with questions on
sincerity, until
with relief,
dawn broke,
and we slept off
the intensity of our
sexual reassurance.

Thoughts On Love, And Other Things

So he picks up his marker
To highlight the line
That all men are holy
All women divine

But the thoughts that he'd written
Where tainted with pain
He tried to ignore them
They followed again

So he chained up his longings
And no one could find
The power to read them
From deep in his mind

Now he's watched from the window
As birds disappear
Another wrong season
Another bad year

But through every long winter
He fashions his tools
To paint out of darkness
And write about fools

We All Should Be So Cursed

As weak as any man I call

to you night demon,

and beg for torment

that must only last forever.

But I have seen you with Samael,

and know you will never be faithful

to only one ideal.

You who carry no original sin

will eat out the sinner,

like a vampire,

lusting for the sons of light

from Babylon to Israel

and beyond.

Ah, but I have heard

you know his name,

and are forever cursed

to lay down you children

for your pride.

No wonder you rage

daughter of Hecate,

creation of Hera,

lover from Adam to Gilgamesh.

But I know you only as

lovely Lilith,

looking for a place to rest.

Right then, all you budding poets and writers.
If you would like to have a try at getting some of your work published follow my links section to,
http://poetrypages4u.com
and the rest will be explained. Go on you know you want to.

The Things I Mislaid

I found my understanding
on the Internet, but avoided
the fashion Buddhists, when
the sent out for vegetarian
lasagna, while meditating
with knees knotted to remind
them of their piety.

I found darkness
in a bitter old well, where I would
visit frequently to draw from
it's purity, and wallow in the
self satisfaction of my own
sacrifices.

I found my wisdom
in a copy of readers digest,
while waiting to see how many
points I had scored,
and if suicide was still not
an option.

I found my strength of character
where it had always been.

I would like to introduce my friend and fellow poet Myst,
and if you go to my links section you are certainly in for a treat.

Leonard Said

Leonard said,
I am content,
is this the end
of my life in art.

can happiness
hinder articulation?
light heart
overcome
dark dreaming.

I sleep
at your breast,
like a child
walled up
from pain.

But alas Janis
you must leave,
again
and
again
and
again

One Legged Man

One legged man,
himself confined,
swore with profound eloquence,
his mind understated.

Yet language not withstanding
our lady's feelings,
locked in concise English,
was all he said on the subject.

Do Not Worry, Just For Today

So we bled the unknown soldier
For the ones who knew the score
But the barrels of our weapons
Held no flowers anymore

Then the souls that we abandoned
Called for mercy from the dark
So we marched to their salvation
With our pipe band in the park

Yet the mothers stood forsaken
As the children walked away
Though they yearned for our protection
We had nothing left to say

For although we came as prophets
Of the unborn and the mild
Are we also called to stand by?
Every lost and unknown child

Found In A Humidor

A Poem By Carol Lynn & Jim

And so I write to you, my love,
unspoken thoughts that plague my brain,
while others wait for evening dreams,
spinning to restful places,
back and forth to heaven,
I dance with fear of losing you...
long past days of worry, far into madness,
pacing the floor of the ocean counting steps between.
Breathing no air, unable to swim,
an anchor less ship, with arduous task
of camouflage, never revealing
my whole self to anyone.

Though I write, I may never send,
shall I burn these words as prayer
to indifferent gods, maybe flame will light
these corridors of endless uncertainty,
then become the eternal torch that
burdens this desperate soul.
But I will carry this beacon on high,
and though you are distance,
my light may guide you back.

It's here I'll wait for you, my love,
hallowed hours spent praying you'll return.
I'm only palsied marrow now,
all that's left gone dead and numb.
Should I try the unfathomable,
divulging this inner truth, hoping for
emancipation, freeing all that lies within,
what may come of that?
Should I kneel and weep, professing
I am nothing without you, while you stand
akimbo, amused by my devotion.

Is this waiting a futile thing,
my arousal a fools game,
lonely among millions to chose from,
yet none measure to your ideal.
Forgive me if this is unseemly,
but my platitudes are a desperate ploy,
a last ditch volley of shock and awe,
a strategy for your surrender,
a treatise for your consideration,
a white flag, if all else fails.

Jeanne d'Arc

Then morning came as answer

Called to my lady's prayer

Yet night time had devoured

Our maiden sweet and fair

~

It's true I always craved her

Though never would I tell

The many who had loved her

The many who had fell

~

Her battle cry we followed

Great banner flying high

Heaven wept and angels sang

As she gazed at the sky

~

But fortune was arrested

Lancaster brought her down

Staked a claim for blasphemy

Then staked unholy ground

~

A flame can never purify

Or smoke and ash obscure

This heroine so perfect

This child who was so pure

~

But now her war is over

She never can come back

But I'll keep fighting for her

Oh my love, Jeanne d'Arc

We Try, My Love

I played you some music,
but the tone was downbeat and devastating,
you laughed,
and claimed it suited my melancholy nature.

I cooked you some dinner,
but the feast was drab and pointless,
you flinched,
and told me it was an acquired taste,

I read you some poetry,
but the theme became lost and confused,
you wept,
and lied that the words were beautiful.

Alone But Never Lonely

My tree fell near your house,
you were...Cold
so you butchered it for fuel.
But that old tree and I had seen so much,
I had nursed it through the empty winter
I had counted the leafs on its bare branches
I knew the texture of its rotten bark
I was aware of its suffering
I am glad it comforts you now
I am happy your toes are warm
I am delighted your toasting fork has a purpose

How Long Shall I kneel, On Your Eggshell Floor

How long shall I kneel, on your eggshell floor?
Will I stay here head bowed?
Afraid to ask you to stay
Afraid to ask you to go
Waiting for you to decide
Waiting for your just sentence
Asking for your unjust sentence
Asking for mercy
Begging for nothing
Begging for something
Wanting to love you
Wanting to hate you
Needing to hold you
Needing to let go
Desperate to say so
Desperate to say no
How long shall I kneel, on your eggshell floor?

Envelope Worker Seals His Own Fate!

Envelope worker seals his own fate!
I smiled at the non intended pun,
but not the dire consequences
the envelope worker had found himself in.
I suppose he had only himself to blame,
as I have blamed myself over again.

The bus driver grinned, and proudly declared
your my only passenger today.
It's your attitude,
I have observed people prefer a kindly nature.
My shopkeeper is kindly,
and enquires at my health
as he hands over my favorite brand
of smoking kills.

I leave the driver to consider my advice,
and continue to ignore my journey.
I turn to the next headline.
Fishermen win lottery and push out the boat!

If I Never See You Again

If I never see you again
The sun will still shine
Only to burn me
Rivers will still flow
Only to drown in
Birds will still sing
But carry no tune
Angels will still speak your name
But fall on deaf ears
Music will still be composed
To be played badly
Verse will still be written
But carry no rhyme
Dawn will still break
To my broken heart
If I never see you again

Torquemada Lay Down Your Burning Effigy

Torquemada, lay down your burning effigy lest you scorch the Earth.

Quell your fanatical enthusiasm for shaking your fist, and proclaiming-

repent, you are all off Gods Christmas list.

Torquemada, release the poets and the artists to their work.

Or rip out eloquent tongues, and chop off long fingered hands,

and let them be silent monks.

Torquemada, will you forgo the new inquisition, so that you may-

stamp out the insecurities of faith, with courage, passion and hope.

Or issue you proclamation of waste.

I used Poor old Torquemada as an analogy to make my point.

What I'm trying to say here is that faith, no matter your believe should be rock solid.

No matter what people say about your religion, it is only ever said through lack of knowledge.

But asking question of faith can only serve to strengthen it.

I Always Thought Your Eye Were Lovely

I always thought your eyes were lovely.
Such a well of secrets, you never truly revealed to me.
Oh how much depth they hold, I could sink forever-
but never want to return to gulp sweet air.
Ah such despair is mine that I am not yours.

I always thought your smile was lovely.
Lips parted that question ready, but never asked of me.
Those lips I have never kissed, I know are gentle,
but sent to torment me, every time they say-
my love, you are never mine.

I always thought your hands were lovely.
So warm to hold, gentle would be their caress.
Nails polished to perfection, finger tip to tip,
but willing to rip, this heart from its home.
But for your part, unready and alone.