Roadside Attraction

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He took her flesh, left her heart on the side of the road

She braced for the concussion, the reverb of her soul

Distance crawled out of every crevice, left her open

The stars aligned but the moon found the sun was stolen

Lovers turned and tossed in passionate waves

Detours abandoned to follow what each one craves

Thunderous applause called from a gray sky,

Her abandoned heart picked up by a passerby

 

(photo credit: <a href=”https://www.flickr.com/photos/stuckincustoms/3145980733/”>Stuck in Customs</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;)

Visiting the Ward, 1899

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The clatter of the silverware, the wisps of flowing golden hair, so unjustly were the trays prepared that no one noticed we were there. In those halls where moans bellow like bulls showing off their fevered pride, the mindless and the asylum dolls traipse the corridors. You can ask but they’ll scarcely reply, for oft went reason behind the locks, and forward marching they’ll deny that any of them belong. So we stood, aghast at those in tattered and unkempt attire, as urine’s pungent aroma filled our nostrils full and we lacked the stomach to view them all. One young girl, not more than 9 played hopscotch with a baby doll, then shrieked and tore its head clean off; bit her fingers til they bled, and I was never more relieved to take our leave when soon enough we heard with dread that our stay had been extended and we’d not leave as we’d intended. This was no time for fear they said, lift the chins upon our heads, and to our rooms they soon led. I, for one, shall surely write to the physician in charge of our miserable plight, let him hear an ear from me, for this is no place for us to be. Mistake I yelled and turned to my friend, but found myself all alone and knew that she was not with me and knew this place was now my home.

Drifting, liquid, untamed thoughts surged from her mind onto the floor and no one came to rescue her as she banged her head upon the door, and her moans flowed into the others that echoed through the corridor.

(photo credit: <a href=”https://www.flickr.com/photos/funky64/4729890087/”>Funky64 (www.lucarossato.com)</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;)

Clipped Wings

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Birds in Flight

 

Like a little parakeet, her body soft, her beauty sweet

She takes her water and her bread, never hungry before she’s fed

She sings a song that’s all her own within the cage that is her nest

 

Oh for freedom’s rarest gift, she’d forsake the safety

Of her wired home, to seek that which the wild bird knows

Light her feet upon sand or bruise her wings in foreign lands,

 

Enjoy the company of another to fly away before she smothered;

If destiny did not bound her to the sky, she’d seek the heavens for to fly,

Touch back down when need be, to remind herself that she is free

 

Perched upon a beaded swing, her world a little house so fine

Sings a tune pretty to every ear, but sad the melody of her mind

 

 

(photo credit: <a href=”https://www.flickr.com/photos/thomashawk/5581519819/”>Thomas Hawk</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;)

Lovers at a Crossroads

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Him:

He wants to be free but doesn’t know how and the struggle is in the seeking, the suffering is in the now when he longs for the kiss of the woman he desires, but the shadow of another leaves him feeling like a liar. He’s a man living in the spaces between each breath, trying so hard to know himself, and no matter how much he wants another life, he’ll stay in this place that gives him such strife. He must resign himself now to the truth of this path, ‘tis as simple as a problem found in first-grade math.

 

Her:

She can’t be his plaything, for she’s a woman of flesh and bone, with a heart that beats pure behind a wall of solid stone. She’s a need for a man who knows how to break clean thru, expose her, make her vulnerable – none of which he cares to do. As sad as it makes her she’ll say goodbye, for she’s got to live her truth and not this battered lie. They both knew this moment would come anyway, may as well make it now, may as well be today.

 

 

 

photo credit: <a href=”https://www.flickr.com/photos/marcelyne/2515487161/”>marceline</a&gt; via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;

Sass In the Satin

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I’m not often caught by surprise, used to be common til I

Drowned in men’s lies, and then you appeared before me

Like a cloud across the sky, better keep moving lest you

Get caught by surprise; see this Southern belle as a quest

You need to con, or fall for her completely…wouldn’t

That be fun? Oh geez don’t let my bud catch any of

Your dew, for the heart squeezes tight when it

Considers me and you; berries on the bush, yes

The temptation is one for the ages, whispering

“Live your truth” are the voices of the sages; and

We shall surely dance around this rhythm we

Know; marionettes flail their arms and legs

As we clap for the show; gentle is the touch,

Sweet your very taste, lustful on the vine,

Your hands are full of grace. Throw caution

To the Wind, let your freedom find a trail,

No justification needed when you

Set that final sail. This is but a rhyme,

Don’t be so morose, figure a bag of candy

Is sweeter than your prose, and just as I have you,

You’d surely take flight, as a bird with healed

Wings after a grounded fortnight.

 

photo credit: <a href=”https://www.flickr.com/photos/paloetic/4576171463/”>paloetic</a&gt; via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;

Beer and Napkins

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Shy guy with the soft smile and gentle eyes,

She found herself in that awkward place where

The gaze floats unintentionally, holding

Brief moments of curiosity and attraction,

Belly flutters and the wonders of discovery

Flavor the air like honeysuckle in bloom,

One drop of its sweetness desired…

He inspires with a gentle kiss and a whispered

Hunger to feel the rhythm she moves to; oh yes,

They will dance

Over a Glass of Red

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Eager is the night, stars’ egos on display,

(Shhh…their charm lies in their confidence)

Anticipation heats the space between reaching hands

You speak, and your words are golden streams,

Heard as a blur as I watch your lips with need;

I know your kiss, as you do mine

The waiting is torture, but exquisite, I’m sipping

The moments like you do your glass of wine

 

(photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/kubina/153871205/”>Jeff Kubina</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;)