IN WHICH, FOR WORLD POETRY DAY, I AVOID A HIDEOUSLY CROWBARRED-RHYME THAT SOUNDS LIKE ‘BILSTON’ BECAUSE ‘MY FAVOURITE LIVING POET’ DOESN’T SCAN.

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If his words married mine, we’d sure show ’em
I’d put rhymes in his pipe and he’d smoke ’em
And I figure words would spill with one trigger of the pun
And we’d have a pretty nifty little poem.

Neither of us would be Beach Body Ready
Yet both of us would, ’til our state was revealed t’ya.
I’d be the Last Busty Wench shown on Ballot Paper View
And he’d write in Venn Diagrambic Pentameter.

Sonnet 2,238

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imageSubconsciously, I wanted to be whole
I’ve known his face, his voice – my entire life
The way he looked and tasted to my soul
He’d manifest in daydreams and at night
If fully woke, I’d go and write him
down
In hypnagogic state I’d think him up
In sleeping, I’d make sure he was around
Then he’d be there in dreams or writ in book
My dreams were where he saw me at my best
Not trapped by waking ties nor misery
No hearts be broke, no ‘fessions be confessed
But love made by subconscious wizardry

Yet more to come, a twist to be revealed:
It came the day he proved that he was real.

IN WHICH FROST IS REWORKED

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Infinite roads diverged in a wood
Delighted I could travel all
And be one traveller, short I stood
And walked as fast as I could fall
To new twists and bends in time and space;
Then took another and the next,
And I kept the smile upon my face
I sleeved my heart and welcomed guests;
And all the people on those roads
Had driven me exactly the same,
For many loves became my foes
Those fake loves all writ in true love’s name.
But I kept hope and walked some more
Not knowing if roads would lead to death;
I doubted doubt, unsure of sure
Yet I fell in love with all I met.
Infinite roads diverged in a wood
With finite and unloving men
Most travelled ones were misunderstood;
For love, life, I’d take them again.

 

AFTER

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She lost and loved and loved and lost
Before she loved The One
And then she loved a little more
To make a more expensive cost
Before she would be gone

She drank and drank and then she drank
Before she drank some more
And then she had a drink or two
To make the dark more dark and dank
Before she hit the floor

She slept and slept and then she slept
Before she slept so deep
And then she slept a day or two
To make awake be from her kept
Before she slept a week

She died so slowly from the wine
Before we knew what for
And then she left us with herself
To make reminders of the time
Before, before, before.

SO BEGAN

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So began the sweet rescue of he

In his eyes was the death of a life

As I met love so he set me free

Both releasing and holding me tight

In his eyes was the death of a life

I knew then that he’d always need me

As he kissed me our day became night

And his own eyes they learned how to see

I knew then that he’d always need me

As he looked through my eyes to my soul

There he touched me majestically

As my logic and heart lost control

As he looked through my eyes to my soul

I could feel my heart melt as it wrote

A new story that hadn’t been told;

And sheer poetry oozed from the poet.

I could feel my heart melt as it wrote

Where infinity crossed on the eight

A new future connected us both

With forever our infinite fate

Where infinity crossed on the eight

We made love to each other at once

And we massaged each pain and each ache

And we shared all our needs and our wants

We made love to each other at once

We made spacetime replay on a loop

Love eternal was our sweet response

With a twisted and Moebius truth

We made spacetime replay on a loop

As I met love and he set me free

As our love I declared from a roof

So began the sweet rescue of he.

Sonnet 2,909

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If love be real why then must love be hard?
What takes true love decades to manifest?
And why must lovers casually discard
What once was true, once put to true love’s test?
If hope be useful why do I lose hope?
Do planets hate me so they misalign?
If breathing matters why then do I choke?
If fate be written what is fate’s design?
Which roadfork or which junction should I take?
As roads they split yet paths they do converge;
Which person soothes the pain and calms the ache?
To what extent should fighting fight the urge?

The answers lie within no other soul;
Nor heart, nor other mind, but in mine own.

HOMEFUCK

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Write a place to call home, in a poem or tome
And imagine it’s real, where we’re two, not alone
Take me here, take me there, hold my legs in the air
While we kiss as we fuck and we fuck as we stare
Do it now, do it then, do it over again
On a bed, anywhere, anyhow, anywhen
Make it long, make it quick, as we fuck, suck and lick
As we mend all the parts that nobody could fix
With a kiss, with a smile, do it fast, take a while
As we turn it down low or we crank up the dial
Give it hard, give it soft, give it all that ya got
As we make it to bed or we fuck on the spot
For it matters not now ‘bout the when or the how
All that matters is that you are here with me now
Dirty fucking is pure, and soft lovemaking raw
As you cum deep inside me, or else you withdraw
For there’s no room for sin and there’s no room for guilt
And our love is the mortar cementing this build
Our fuckpleasures are true as we love through and through
We replace and embrace this new me and new you
Give no worry nor care to the when or the where
It’s a love that is real and a love that is rare
When we’re old we will sit and we shall reminisce
‘bout the love that began with reciprocal kiss
For this love, if you note – which to us we devote
All took place in our hearts in this home that we wrote.