Ambivalence in Poetic Form

In an imperfect world I have no say in
Who lives or dies,
Who sinks or flies
But who rocks the skies?

Who throws the stars?
Like the shadow mars
My empty heart.

There is no perfect hope,
Only the hopeless are worthy.

Yeah I'm scared!
I've got a right to be!
You're so afraid of me
That you can't see what's inside of me.
So let me walk through your heart
Give me the tour,
Once and for all
And quit your stalling
I'm only calling out to you
'Cause I need to know

Is it true?
Can it be done?
Can two separate people
Truly become one?

There is no cruel hate
Only the violent procreate.

So pardon my ferociousness
And I'll throw an anorexic twist
Into the heady readiness
That belies your unsteadiness.

If you'll change your stance
Catch your balance and your breath
Stay focused, think ahead
'Cause I'm high on death

There is no perfect lover,
Only love itself is perfect.

"You're just too good to be true.
Can't take my eyes off you.
You'd be like Heaven to touch.
I wanna' hold you so much.
At long last love has arrived
And I thank God I'm alive.
You're just too good to be true.
Can't take my eyes off you.

Pardon the way that I stare.
There's nothing else to compare.
The sight of you leaves me weak.
There are no words left to speak,
But if you feel like I feel,
Please let me know that it's real.
You're just too good to be true.
Can't take my eyes off you.

I love you, baby,
And if it's quite alright,
I need you, baby,
To warm the lonely night.
I love you, baby.
Trust in me when I say:
Oh, pretty baby,
Don't bring me down, I pray.
Oh, pretty baby, now that I found you, stay
And let me love you, baby.
Let me love you."

- Bob Crewe

Hey Baby

Don't ask me to address
The nature of my direction.

If only all my stress
Would evaporate with affection.

But instead I take this test
Constant rules like an infection.

Maybe it would be best
To cease my relational dissection.

I don't want to lose,
I just want to love:
But to choose to refuse
Seems the obvious plan
But without love I see
Only pain where I stand.

Please,
Hold my hand.

So Follows the Farewell Ferry

And there's the call,
For the final fall,
A twist, a wrench
A foul stench,
And then the curtain call.

And there's the mission bell,
Heralding the start of hell,
They are too dear
To keep me near
So I carefully choose where I dwell.

And then the crying lamb
That bleats through bleakness grand,
What horror throws
Its painful lows
Until you cannot stand?

It is the teary face
That ends the human race
What games we play
So we might stay
In our feigned creator's grace.

It's hypocrisy
For you and me:
But you and I
Can't explain why,
We show but cannot see.

Sisyphus' Treadmill

I feel like I've run a marathon,
At one-hundred miles an hour.

No rests,
No breaks,
Just twists and loops
On roads like snakes.

Yet at the end of the day,
When I sing my swan song,
To conclude the race,
My triumph in the throng
I don't know how fast,
Or how far,
Or how long.

"A Goodbye and Celebration of What Might Have Been" or "Regret"

How heavy is the kiss goodbye,
For the distant friend,
To usher in the end.

A friend that could have been,
One step closer,
A quaint composer.

Perhaps in her stead,
I'll find solace here,
In the depths of my head,
With my memories dear,

And in fantasies sleep,
Through dreams without end,
That the friend I can't keep,
Is not
On whom
I depend.

Don't jump until I've put out my hand.
Don't cry until I've made you hurt.
Don't dance until your innocence has ended.

And don't forget who I am,
Or what I've done for you.

I'll cry myself to sleep so you won't have to.

"I have nothing to say." She stared back at me, her eyes folding back over to the glazed expression she wore so often, the thin patina of disinterest. God, she knew just how to get under my skin.

"Well there's nothing more to talk about then is there?"

"Not really."

"Can you even call this a conversation?" I said nothing. The wine had turned sour in taste and stodgy in texture.

Triangle Triage

Darkest flesh of
The cold as we struggled through
The rain, meekest we
Searched for the warm breast
The flash of chest that meant
Life,
In the best of that sense.

Ostrich Head

Child,

Be grateful for
Your family,
Your fate is not starvation.
Don't be

Foolish,

Your love is
Juvenile,
Puerile, and infantile,
But you've got style
That's for

Sure,

You can run away
Still weigh
The options as you

Flee.

Water Waka

Draw closer to the
Water's clear fulmination.

Dread not its passage.
Though the moon glares greedily.

Instead make love to
The calm beauty of the lake.

She rises, she stands
Only when her father turns,
For he, the moon, is jealous.

My Romantic Nature

Please,

Let me see
That face,
So free.
That grows towards the breeze.

Like flowers to the sun,
Warm,
Fun.
But no daffodil or daisy may
Like you can,
Make me crazy.

And it's hazy
How only you can exist
And yet your presence,
Makes me twist
With effervesence.

My innards swarm,
They are a hive where
Dread insects thrive
On convolution.

Fully Appalled by the Reticent Toot

Nothing turns the mind a bit
Like the sound
Of the unwound
When lit.

And no-one reads the earth so profoundly,
Like one who walks its circumference,
Then exhausted sleeps,
So soundly.

And when there is silence,
And the countdown begins,
I choke on my laughter -
For her awkward sin.

She weaves to and fro,
Then, like the clouds, breaks wind.