Principles of uncertain origin

Now the body of love was found dying
Of a wound that I wrote on her back
From a text that was not illustrated
With instructions not printed in black

But my plea of puerile was accepted
And the statement was carefully read
To the jury who solemnly listened
But insisted on Coleridge instead

So they sent me away in my shackles
With a note I could never appeal
Of a sentence I hardly could finish
And a verse that should never reveal

Still I work at my only redemption
Adding stresses each time that I pray
To the Angels who ponder my ravings
That I scratch on these walls every day

Sonnet in blue #8

If destiny should ever be as fair
And gentle as your touch upon the skin,
That wakes a man from slumber and regret
Of love that was reluctant to begin.

Then purify the future with a kiss
Upon the lips that whisper mystery,
Of truths we left abandoned in the past,
Consigned with all that’s gone to history.

So lay your head upon this dream of white,
And rest a little while in beggar’s arms.
Then I shall weight my sorrow on your breasts,
And tie it up with ribbons and with charms.

First one with lace, and then the next with gold,
That’s woven softly through the next lie told.

Pondering my epiphanies,
brings an overwhelming
self congratulatory

sensation, equaled only by the
certainty of their falsehoods.
Gods do not speak to me,

but merrily nudge me in the
ribs, and wink three times.
Ah, but this is my afternoon

muse, bright and airy.
Those forced out at night
are so much darker.

As the god of the lottery grabbed for the reigns

As the god of the lottery grabbed for the reigns

With the devil behind him, he reached once again

For the strength and the longing to pull in his mare

Then he grinds to a halt, but the devils still there

 

Now the god he was slippery, careful but wise

And he sang everyday in a clever disguise

O he sang of the sea, and he sang to the air

And he sang of his loss without seeming to care

 

Still the god of the lottery clung to the reigns

With the devil still chasing, and doing the same

So they ride for the morning, they ride to the night

And they ride for the chasm with manic delight

 

Now the god he was gifted with finesse and skill

And he danced everyday at the top of his hill

O he danced for the girl with the Spanish guitar 

With a promise of love that would never go far

 

But the god of the lottery clings to the reigns

As he chases his devil across endless plains

So they ride for the desert, they ride for the sea

And they ride for the thunder that’s eternity 

Zeus Impending

Four letter words bloom like petals of invitation, opening a seed that denies nothing. Yet I fear my imagination, as it takes hold our stresses, once more puncturing that rose of delicate perfection. Whisper sweet though, remember time is short, but intense with forever.

Taking Liberties With Methuselah

I flogged my pen across the page
In search of something true
But all the words I plagiarized
Were written just for you

I used a clever metaphor
So cunningly disguised
As songs to praise the deep blue sea
That really meant your eyes

I wrote about the sands of time
Yet kept the meaning terse
And gambled that you’d understand
My need beneath this verse

One Hundred And Sixty Syllables

Gather the roses I plucked from your sin
Careful the thorns that will bloody your skin
Place them in vases with water and wine
Tie them with beauty and feed them with time

Forsake the words that were highlighted red
Erase forever that stain on our bed
True that I held you in passion and pain
Sure of the sweat that would follow again

Empty the vials where we brewed up the dark
Grind up the glass so it won’t leave a mark
Scrub all the floors where the evidence lay
No one will know that we left it that way

Ponder the needs of the next who will come
Line up his heart in the sights of your gun
Write it all up in your poetry book
Just like they taught in the classes you took

This Broken Sonnet

If just one single teardrop here must fall
To drown these feelings formerly denied
And taken with the salt to pass it all
Onto the very rose that we despised

Yet roses are averse to stay in bloom
Whenever subtle winter calls your name
And standing with his hands inside your gown
He’ll find no warmth to feed on, just more pain

But thoughts of pain were never far behind
We’d only propagate this love to win
I’d heard an old cliché that, love was blind
And had to hang a lantern on that sin

Yet sin is just the reason we must hide

From all those broken sonnets strung outside

Remembrance

Now we carry you home nameless soldier
From those red fields you ploughed long ago
And the flowers we gathered to give you
Were all plucked from a blanket of snow

Did you march with the promise of glory?
Through a countryside tainted with shame
Then you climbed on the back of the donkeys
Who refused to remember your name

But the poems you sent they destroyed us
Though we savoured each line for the pain
Then we locked them away from our children
And we never revealed them again

So we built you a tower of honour
Which you climbed with your gun on your back
Then you rolled up the flag of surrender
And prepared for another attack

Now you stand with your face to the heavens
As we stand with our backs to the sea
And your rifle is loaded and ready
Then is handed to someone like me

This Transient Thought

We are all born smiling,

you said. But images

of toothless men-

babies, did not ring true

for me. Because I remember

the tears from the struggle

against freedom, and the

certain pain that would    

surely follow.

Yet I am now overwhelmed

to give it voice.

 

Then why do it?

you ask. To hide

the truth my friend.

Who would think to

search these ramblings

for real meaning, but

find anything other

than a good idea,

on a cold winters night….

 

written by a man

of few words, with an

awful lot to say.

 

 

Desperate For The Impostor

From carving reckless follies in the night
I stretch a bitter hand so you will know
My heart is dull and failing in the light
As fire in your breast no longer glows

I stole a pot of honey from your room
In jealousy I smeared it on the walls
I prayed you’d never catch me in the gloom
Especially when spite and anger calls

Positioning myself outside you head
I'm constantly reminded of our time
Remembering those roses on your bed
And how I waited patiently in line

So now my dear I hold a scarlet cure
Some little pills to swallow one by one
But so convinced your bleakest heart was pure
My love provided bullets for your gun

Now let me take a lifetime to adjust
To all the gifts you laid down by my side
And as I gently veil them in my dust
I bravely cross the line that you provide

ANNOUNCEMENT

If anyone is looking for a good read over the long winter nights which are really not that far off now. Then you must check out the latest books from myself and some of my friends.

http://lulu.com/jim644
http://stores.lulu.com/braveheartbard67
http://stores.lulu.com/marilyn_thompson

Good reading

In Between Nowhere

Collecting driftwood from the shore
She carves in words with care
Then asking where her thoughts came from
There in between nowhere

She stole my heart five thousand times
Accomplished with great flair
And every song and poem sprang
From in between nowhere

Then when at last my aching heart
And soul no longer care
I read aloud her words of love
From in between nowhere

I'll tie some chain around this heart
So no one else will dare
Remove it from my resting place
Lost in between nowhere

For Carol Lynn & Leonard
Leonard for the inspiration to write,
Carol Lynn for the inspiration to try and do it properly

All That We Are is a Broken Promise

Let me bury all my sorrow
Collected through the years
Then lay atop a wreath of words
That sounded insincere

Next take away my pen and ink
And cast them to the sea
But as the moon commands the tides
Lies flow on back to me

Now dismantle all my weapons
But leave this soldiers gun
To keep away the hounds of truth
Surrounding everyone

Ah but if my war is over
I'm not afraid to cry
That the harlots and the valiant
Must give love one more try

Aphrodite Gives The Game Away

Shall I love you
with the passion
of a martyr?
Becoming
lost in the
futility of the
moment.

Or should I
at least resort
to the excuse
of a coward?

Confessing,
behold,
I am but a man

His Ambiguous Writings on Love

I knew a poet,
who used obscure
metaphor, to justify
untruths about those
he loved.
But as time passed,
each lie was taken
daily, and used to
prop up the illusion
of his invincibility.

I have become superman,
he would declare.
Yet was concerned
his new found
redemption, would
one day be denied him.

So he took to falling
in love, all over again.
Analising each experience,
in a scientific study of self
denial. Then one by one
documented the disasters
that would follow.

But at last, when each tale
became the essence of
his existence, he recited
them all back to his victims,
and the whole thing would
start over again.

Where The Silent Ones Sleep

A Poem By Carol Lynn Stevenson Grellas & Jim Murphy

The grave where every stranger rests
There lies an echoed soul
Beneath the wilted flower beds
They sleep where truths are whole

Oh friend please come and walk with me
And hear of all they tell
The lessons learned from lives before
Where fossil bodies dwell

You see the stones engraved with pain?
But markings never speak
About the loves who came and went
Those hearts that never sleep

And if you see a pulse sometimes
A swelling in the ground
That undulates and permeates
The silence all around

Then let us knell before each plot
Our ears pressed to the soil
And eavesdrop on the lives that were
Attached to mortal coil

I hear the crying of a girl
Who died while giving birth
The hour set upon the stone
Departure from the Earth

But when I take a closer look
The name inscribed is worn
Though I can see the time she died
Was right when I was born

So now I'll listen carefully
As if afraid to pry
To hear the soldier calling me
Who was prepared to die

From bunker hill to valley forge
We always fought with pride
But heed these words I tell you son
Use freedom as your guide

And as I pause to read his name
So plain for all to see
It was the very same one that
My father gave to me

Be still to all who feel the wind
It stirs the restless black
Wild horses gallop in the night
To bring each rider back

One by one, ten thousand more
And with each final breath
Anothers born, another dies
As birth begins with death

Now when at last we turn our backs
On souls who were so dear
Whose voices keep on calling us
And beg us to stay near

But hand in hand we walk away
To plan a life that's true
Yet always carry memories
Of hearts that we once knew

If you would like to learn more about Carol Lynn Stevenson Grellas. Please visit
http://www.carollynngrellas.com/

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?