love Poems and Poetry


there was...	there was a moment or two in his mind that still seemed real in a world that too often seemed surreal and swift to knock a person down. relentless life. living outside the time- line is dangerous work, standing in line waiting to time travel perhaps with a bag or a towel or a pint of beer. small smile. she would know the reference maybe.
bittersweet	i'm dying the note said and the other travels all day and all night, drops everything in that moment & arrives quickly and sees that the other is really ok. maybe. -...we're all dying eventually. that's not funny. -some sooner than others. what is wrong? -they don't have a name for it yet. it's a new dis- ease.
Sunday is for love	Sunday is for love. that day most of us use to rest and get ready for the next week. weak willed lovers leave worries for monday and if some- one wants to spend such an important time with you it must mean they truly love you. Love is for sacrifice and Sunday is for love.
i consider love	perhaps too damn much for my own good i sometimes feel like cupid who sets my poet eyes on a lass or lady and within a fornight they've found their prince charming and are so happy it's hard to feel sad. i consider love an internal force with external indicators and an external force with internal indicators.
october (fest)	a cheap beer and no cheer. alone w/not even a barstool to sit upon and stare behind the bar, memorizing the odd collection of items kept back there. back there. festering thoughts. i purge with art. i create with emotions felt and visions shared - those moments, that whole collect -ion of words. ionization of base chemical patterns of electrical impulsive thought. i keep looking off the path to this side and that, hoping some other half on some other road will stop and slow down to my pace (quicken?) and chat for a while and not
The Human Weapon of Mass Destruction	The heart is a bomb, just waiting to explode. Once you turn it on: "Fire in the hole!" Tick tick tock, it's a heavy load there time on the clock but you know it's gonna blow You can't make it stop when it's trapped below Diffuse what's on top to make the countdown slow Encased in the body wired to the skull one weapon so godly most don't even know They keep it on lock but I do have hope that some lady fox will tell me the code
Flakey Stockholm	The monster of spiritual politics is missing from the day he scooped me in his mouth. When I was there I found my left hemisphere electromagnetic pulses that I rarely contact. I think I talked too loud, & smelled too much of hormones. For my words had him spit me out, because of a little defiance on my part. I didn't know a beast with such power could have such a fleeting response. & so I sit there, & he blames me for the days our mouths missed. & I don't even know where his cave is.
Haiku for lover sleep	We go naked in bed! Lazy like rubawhile Two worlds collide And seasons change
Closest to her Heart	On the arms of the Williamsburg bridge, tumbling brunette curls, Lisa’s hands sneak to her center, to unclose her tarnished heart-shaped locket, which forever drapes a rosy fragrant neck—her cold, velvet skin where pecks from my lips freshly smudge like fingerprints grease up a photograph. Excitement locks my knees, finally granted the gift of her secret within. But what I see dumb-founds me: hog-neck man, shaven, posing, smiling in suit and tie, cheesing—instantly the lenses in my eyes rip, burst straight through my pupils, stick like flypaper to
blackhole hate	or, escape; cell by cell i feel com- pelled tow- ard the black- hole. naked ex- cept for its effect on surrounding sp- ace and most likely time. no way to tell. no way phsicially to travel through those holes in space where the weight of the universe is more per square inch than anywhere.