10-07-2014, 01:43 AM
When you wake up
for the first time
For the first time? We wake up a lot.
after a weeklong bender
besotted by barbarism,
That's a fair and balanced understatement.
brought by the bottle and the poke ;
the television screaming with
second rate ads
and cut throat capitalism -
You realize you might have a problem.
That's an even richer and potent understatement.
When your heart is broken
by someone you were never
really sure you were dating,
It takes three lines to say it, and I wouldn't doubt or complain if it took more.
and love only comes as a way to stave off loneliness
and a mad drummer moves into your spare room
after 6 months exile, it becomes obvious to have
wine for breakfast.
This is some of that everyman assumption that so many poets like that alludes to nothing and supposes, rightly, anything.
The haze of a silver screen starlet beams across
50 years, still alive and dripping with sex.
Enchanted by her nebulous eyes
calling to recall a passionate evening
rolled in sand and sea foam,
distant city-lights bathing everything silver and timeless-
hair the colour of sunset,
hands the skeletons of birds,
lips the colour of wine
playing Rhapsody’s across my flesh.
Confusing love for lust again.
That stanza would be almost perfect if it said the black and white colour of wine, but only to me. I don't know about other readers. I don't pay attention.
And I don't mean black and white colour of wine has to be worded that way.
But the last line about what's being confused is another nice, flippant, understatement for a poem like you write.
They say that “Love is the only cure”;
It’s also often the cause.
The end ruins it all, but in a good way. As if you were saying, To Be Continued, Obviously
for the first time
For the first time? We wake up a lot.
after a weeklong bender
besotted by barbarism,
That's a fair and balanced understatement.
brought by the bottle and the poke ;
the television screaming with
second rate ads
and cut throat capitalism -
You realize you might have a problem.
That's an even richer and potent understatement.
When your heart is broken
by someone you were never
really sure you were dating,
It takes three lines to say it, and I wouldn't doubt or complain if it took more.
and love only comes as a way to stave off loneliness
and a mad drummer moves into your spare room
after 6 months exile, it becomes obvious to have
wine for breakfast.
This is some of that everyman assumption that so many poets like that alludes to nothing and supposes, rightly, anything.
The haze of a silver screen starlet beams across
50 years, still alive and dripping with sex.
Enchanted by her nebulous eyes
calling to recall a passionate evening
rolled in sand and sea foam,
distant city-lights bathing everything silver and timeless-
hair the colour of sunset,
hands the skeletons of birds,
lips the colour of wine
playing Rhapsody’s across my flesh.
Confusing love for lust again.
That stanza would be almost perfect if it said the black and white colour of wine, but only to me. I don't know about other readers. I don't pay attention.
And I don't mean black and white colour of wine has to be worded that way.
But the last line about what's being confused is another nice, flippant, understatement for a poem like you write.
They say that “Love is the only cure”;
It’s also often the cause.
The end ruins it all, but in a good way. As if you were saying, To Be Continued, Obviously