Playing with Fire

A look so playful and full of fire
Dark eyes full of pure desire
When you're near, sweet music plays
You broke my will...please have your way

Not so very long ago, in a land not so far away
We bantered and played...never thought of you that way
With Winter winds you went away, how I missed you so
Then without notice, I looked, and you were there..
All you had to do was smile, no words you had to say

The first time that you touched me and my senses came alive
You left me wanting more of you, even just to hold me tight
Shivered me timbers and rocked my world with a simple kiss
I know what I would ask for, if I could have one wish

What every woman wants..someone thoughtful, gentle, kind
Lost track of times that we made love, but I kept that in my mind
For if you knew, you surely run, I've had these feelings for awhile
What I wouldn't give right now, just to see you're smile.

The pain is nagging, and it takes you a very long time to realize what it is.
Is it the actual object that pains you?

No, that isn’t it. You don’t know what it is but you can feel it.
You can feel the truth buried deep, but it is hidden away, and you can’t find it.

And one day, it just hits you.
The truth rushes onward and it washes over you like a strong current.

It’s not the object, it’s that you don’t have it.
That’s it.

Then you realize that it isn’t true.
You haven’t let the whole truth hit you yet.

Finally the real, whole truth reaches you.
It’s not that at all, it’s who DOES have it.

People just like you.
But you don’t have it.

And if someone gave you the object now,
It wouldn’t matter.

Because the others had it first.
They weren’t better than you.

But they were chosen first.
And you were ignored.

The pain hurts now more then ever.
It isn’t a nagging anymore.

It’s a sharp stabbing pain that goes away with time,
But in it’s place is an aching pain that will never go away.

And it hurts because you don't know.
You don't know why.

But it hurts none the less.
The truth hurts.

Another poem for class
But I figure I wrote it anyway, might as well display. Again not exactly my style, a little too formulaic, but this one's a little closer to the sort of stuff I usually do.

The one that got away

From high on my perch,
I surveyed the crowd;
A flash of brown hair attracts my stare,
And I swoop down from my father’s shoulders.
I was the eagle,
She was the osprey.

This social room in the church
Was my sunday school territory;
But since the day Beth came to my class
I’d devoted my cunning to another goal
I was the panther,
She was the prey.

I stalked through the room
Dodging inadverdent elbows
Seeking the only one there shorter than I
I careened around neighbors, coursed past the priest
I was the hound
She was the hare.

But I’d lost the sight
And never had her scent
My hunter’s instinct had gone awry
The social hour was ending
I was the wolf,
She was the moon.

Then I heard her quiet voice
Bared my fangs, and could said nothing
So she smiled, and left, and I smiled
And thought the world would end.
Slow-witted, I was a two-toed sloth
And she was a sparrow, aloft on the breeze.

I plodded back to my tree,
Took wing and crashed
Back onto my father’s shoulders
But as we moved into the street I shook my fur
Dropped to the ground, growled at a cat
I was a beast, and Beth- who’s that?

"Druggie's Paradise"

Locked tight inside the
tangled web of my mind,
I found a shelter from the cruel world
in a land hidden from the blind.

Paradise, I call it,
because of the relief and peace it gives me,
it's absense of pain, hatred, war, and the insane,
make life seem as it should be.

I descend into my paradise
whenever the pain gets beneath my skin.
How could a paradise of such great size from a needle
be such a sin?

But as I visit my paradise
and see my angels nightly,
I notice a change that's been happening on the outside
that to all the people that once loved me, has become unsightly.

My paradise has taken away all of me,
exactly what it has taken, I can't tell,
but no one can save me, the needle's in me,
too late i realized, that Paradise is hell.

I'm all for this wonderous holiday,
This festival of fun,
I'm already having a great time,
And it's only just begun!                                                    

To the Unwashed Marketing Department,
Get out your plans and fast,
Bert the Turtle shall be a demigod,
Don't let this opportunity past.
And Bert, I know you're reading this,
The ethics are my bag,
You can gice to someone else,
My ration of radiactive slag.
I think this year I have a thesaurus,
It would cause me joy,
One that can be integrated into,
My battered ol' PIPBoy.
For the kife a poet is dangerous,
Before a poem comes to fruition,
You need a handy supply of words,
To avoid inane repetition.
To avoid inane repetition,
You need a handy supply of words,
To avoid inane repetition.
If it's not too much trouble,
Please bring to me,
Some anti-spam deodorant,
Would cause so much glee.
I have procured some wonderous things,
For my treasured peers,
Ranging from caps and stimpacks,
To legs for overseers.
I've also got a stick sharpener,
For our diligent Doom,
Don't let on any of this,
Coz I'll surprise them soon.
                                                    

To contribute to the sumptuous feast,
I'll bring Oz's best,
Our world famous beers and such,
Will surely stand the test.
We have a large range of road kill,
Ready and on hand,
It's just so hard to catch the blighters,
I'm sure you understand.                                                    

On the subject of the rules you listed,
I don't want to cause a fight,
But can I possibly use them elsewhere,
Or, are they copyright?                                                    

Thanks for the inspiration,
It's a truly great idea,
Hang on, I've got to go,
I think that Bert is here!                                                    

Cheers from the Land of Oz

Haiku

Trouble brews, gods of
Chili are at war with gods
Of cheesy evil.

A hidden message?
Surely I'm too old for such
Sophomoric pranks.

While drifting through a daydream
Upon the stoop I sat
The realization of my insignificance
To that of the average ant

I do not have an army
My weight I cannot lift
So, really what's my purpose?
Through these thoughts I cannot sift

A light that beckons far away
Cast an eerie glow
Looks so peaceful and serene
Yet, I don't think I should go

The void that I call life
Only changes is in it's size
A vastness so indefinate..
The darkness of my mind.