It is a glorious night
with the pale moon bright
an evening full of thought
upon thy touch I sought
the desire of your caresses
feeds my unconscious stresses
and the sight of your eyes
the memory—oh goodbyes.
O what would I give if I knew
that I could see my lady anew.
For, my lady, patience is precious
alas the waiting—that is truly arduous.
Resting my gaze upon your softness
no contact—but my eyes
feel you, caress you—
The softness of your golden sheets
flowing in the late evening breeze
yet——nothing moves.
Just the rolling drum deep inside,
its pace quickens:
a driving, rushing beat.
With every moment,
with every passing breath,
The piercing calm blue of your eyes
torments my imagination with your sighs.
I’m a man of nineteen
a man of forty and thirteen.
Liking beret hats
and videos of cats.
But I realised—in this world
nobody is that bold
every night is a purchase
as you sink further from the surface.
On this surface, real love is found
where feelings of tender romance compound.
In today’s transactional society
decisions require no piety.
What is this supposed to mean—
how can I unsee what has been seen?
Does love as we know it exist no more
just one-night stands making you feel empty and sore?
This world, though, I’m willing to discover
with many conspicuous secrets to uncover
I just hope in the end I’ll still be me
Still being the gallant, courteous and gentle man I would like to be.
She is like the sun
radiating the world’s love
her beauty is plain to all.
She is like the sun
glowing with joy and laughter
her smile is never stretched thin.
She is like the sun
I see her every day
too afraid to approach; will it burn?
She is like the sun
I’m waiting for a cloud to come
waiting for my turn.
But what if this chance
never fits my stance
and I’ll be forever waiting
waiting for inexistent romance.
I write this poem
in a place of art
a place of love
of tears,
of long-lived years
and a great many dreams
where people come together
each day
without fail,
we come together.
Come together
to come home.
To my friends:
now, a new chapter begins.
You, who have stood by me
while all else deserted;
You, who could see
what really mattered.
Those of you I joked around with
or engaged in staring matches
being normal: a myth…
You, who also had sweat patches.
Then there were those closer;
more than just friends
those to be hugged tighter (or pushed further)
to steer clear or worship as godsends.
The Beethovens and Puccinis
astounding, so incredibly talented
others, as dry as ten-day grissinis
or like ancient blades—blunted.
Peculiar, bizarre or perplexed
your faces have been;
while I was not vexed
some things cannot be unseen.
The future world leaders
and the future garbage men
all learned literary readers
some wishing they said “amen”.
The party animals
with seemingly bottomless bladders
others, mammalian cannibals
starting already to climb career ladders.
To be very brief, indeed,
it matters not whence you come
or what devils you believe in;
it’s the shared experiences:
those are second to none
and the cameras we have smiled in
putting aside our differences.
I have a message unsmall:
I love you all.