I watch the glistening stars
waiting for thy presence
thy brown eyes
a pulse through the universe
bound
connected
to ne’r be smothered
infinitely
Penelope
be mine
I watch the glistening stars
waiting for thy presence
thy brown eyes
a pulse through the universe
bound
connected
to ne’r be smothered
infinitely
Penelope
be mine
Mrs Khan
had a nasty man
who hit her hard
with a frying pan
he made her weep
and make her sleep
outside with the mice
in a garbage can
she ran away
to the USA
moved to a town
it was called Bomb Bay
there she met
her soulmate me
who made her smile
and feel happy
“Fuck it”
said Hyacinth
to her husband Clive
lets use a Bucket
and go for a sex drive
faded
by shadows
and mist
remote
beyond reach
I devote
myself
to her
perhaps in my dreams
she
in the distance
I shall hold you
and squeeze you tight
I won’t let you go
without a fight
my feet take me
to the place
I need to be
on the way
to your lovely face
I get excited
about it’s eyes
and dimples
reflecting
modest grace
lure me with your innocence
and beauty
and let our hormones
do their teenage duty
zip your lips
if you speak
but have nothing to say
if you use them
to kiss me
I just might let you stay
I have the hots
for you
said the stove
to the pan
I may turn up
the heat,
at least
that is the plan…
she
was born
with many a thorn
prickly
yet blossoming
in my light
not to clamber
over yours truly
much to his delight
holding reds
fragrant and fresh
she stands firm
with puissant pose
now stuck
in me
I embrace her sting
my beautiful
English rose
you can keep me
forever
in your imagination
but reality
requires a tad more
moderation
the fresh smell
of springs’ air
rosy cheeks
her skin so fair
she seeks
a naughty boy
who wants him
for her butterflies
and a bit of joy
all the while
her precious
innocent smile
and insecure
female stance
wants to control
her butterflies
before they start
to dance…
he is fond
of an occasional blond
but prefers a brunette
in bed
instead
I will take thee
by the hand
and I shall wed thee
in Maryland
when you dance
with tulips
you color
the room
whilst carefully
holding
the large stems
attached to beautiful bulbs
in the spring
you move
gracefully
whilst you do
your thing
mellow
yellow
You need hands to hold someone you care for
You need hands to show that you’re sincere
When you fear nobody wants to know you
You need hands to brush away the tears
When you hold the brand new baby
You need tender hands to guide them on their way
You need hands to thank the Lord for living
And forgiving us this day
You need hands to show the world you’re happy
And you need hands when you have to stop the bus
But the hands we love so dear
Are the hands we love to hear
Are the hands that You give to us
Everybody holds the hands that You give to us
Hold on, I don’t believe it, fantastic, that’s so wonderful
~Malcolm McLarren – Sex Pistols
1 marriage
2 people
3 kids
4 pets
5 years
a lot of fights
a divorce
a scheister
plenty of money
and many tears
what’s
with you…
without me
entwined
are our heart strings
connected
at the core
I never use to notice it
like now
in time
before
early on a sunday morning
w hen everything is dead
I hear the church bells ringing
lying in my bed
alone and lonely
lonely for you
I am by myself
but my heart is here with you