Poetry

I wish you were crawlinginto my roomsmelly and dirtyfrom a long day’s workso I could get you a pilland a drink of waterand take off yoursocks and shoesshirt and pantsand put you to bedand hold your headto help you sleepfor real.

There are birds in the parkWho may sing a songPassed down through generationsOf the girl who loved a boy There are birds in the parkWho won’t believe the songUntil they see it for themselvesAnd you kiss me again. There are birds in the parkWho were born this yearAnd those who will dieBefore you are here.…

Dance me to the end of love and let me rest upon your song for only then will I be Done and all my faults will be long gonewater and sky might someday fill the great divide between what is now and where I hope my heart resides

Let me see your faults and caress them. What you feel are flaws are only the lines dividing what is uniquely you from what is banal and undesirable to me. Give me all of your broken pieces and warped sensibilities that I could hold them too. For I don’t want just the good in you.…

Build a business and a sand castleBe a father and a daddyTurn me on and turn on a recordFind my soul and find me fascinatingMake love and make dinnerIncite laughter or a revolutionFix a drink and a squeaky floorHold on forever and never hold me backDive deep and drown me with your love

Turn me on and turn on a recordFind my soul and find me fascinatingMake love and make dinnerIncite laughter or a revolutionFix a drink and a squeaky floorBuild a business and a sand castleBe a father and a daddyHold on forever and never hold me backDive deep and drown me with your love

Chipping away at the rotted woodTo replace it with newBleaching and blanching the exposed beamTo kill any parasite still living to rot out the foundation of all that’s been builtSanding to the coreHard to breathe, hard to kneel, hard to seeHas it all been cleaned, cleared of its flaws?No way to know until it’s too…

When it all seems brokenAnd lost to rotThe mold has come.Chip itScrub itBleach itBlanch itSand itFind itThere’s a foundation still thereIt’s covered in filthand tough to seeBut I know that it’s thereI believe that it’s good.

Storge. Philia. Agape. Eros.Yes.It’s that kind of love.Unparalleled, unprecedented.The kind that tears down wallsAnd builds bridges.Gives modesty to the sinnerAnd peace to the berserker.Creating joy from nothingnessAnd softens my browDefacing the facade of laughterTo replace it with pure joyAnd virginal smilesAnd love for all mankindEven more so love for just one manWho offers his soul…

Sneak off to meand run awayjust for a dayor maybe a week. Give me a momentor two or threeto carry me throughuntil my dreamsand fantasiesbe rechargedto wait for thee. Offer me a tasteof what my future holdsand let me knowwhat joy it will beto be near youbody, mind and soul.