LOVE POEM #52 – SATIATED

I didn’t think I’d write a poem

that was fueled by hatred

but I think it’s about time

that my hate was satiated.

 

Or that I was appreciated

or that you reciprocated

 

‘Cause this whole time

I’ve been pulling strings

so your pain could be

alleviated;

 

and I’ve been deflated,

like a popped balloon.

 

Who knew that it would end so soon?

That you would play me like tune

and I’d be playing the buffoon?

 

Now every time you’re in the room

I can’t help wishing for your doom.

 

For someone to come in,

take you out, and

leave you buried

in a tomb.

 

Too much?

 

Well let me say it without a doubt:

You better get the extinguisher

‘Cause now the fire’s coming out.

 

You told me that your love was free

but all you did was sell me pain

and now you’ve put that blame on me

so you can watch me go insane.

 

You watched me

kill, murder, maim, shoot, slay, and torture,

while you

still furthered pain, out making disorder.

Saying

we were a thing; that I gave you a daughter,

but when that beauty popped out

I knew I wasn’t the father.

 

So go to hell.

——

 

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LOVE POEM #51 – LOOSE CHANGE

They told me the girl on the street corner

was a dime a dozen. Which is why,

when we stopped at the red light,

they threw coins at her

before speeding off, laughing

like little pigs, all the way home.

They didn’t see in the rear-view mirror

how she fell to her knees, crying,

scrounging to pick up the loose change.

 

Perhaps that’s why when I saw her

marching down the aisle

at the dirty supermarket

I couldn’t help but ask her

why such a dame would scamper

after a few dozen nickels.

 

And she told me that in life

we all just scrounge for enough change

to make our empty selves feel whole,

even if, in the end, we are just half dollars.

 

It was then I felt a prick,

and I told her, if she wanted,

that I would buy her a drink,

pay a penny for her thoughts,

and we could chat the night away.

 

She agreed with a smile, on the condition

that I wouldn’t be charging any hidden fees

or sticking her backside with my taxes.

 

It was a pro bono night, indeed.

 

The next morning I walked her home,

and we stopped at the same street corner.

She found a penny, heads up.

It’s your lucky day she told me,

handing Abe over to me.

I cupped it in her palm and told her

luck be you, m’lady.

——

 

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LOVE POEM #50 – HOW MANY POEMS

How many poems till she realize she matters?
How many poems till she escape this disaster?
How long till she makes her defection?
Stands up for herself
And fights for her own protection?

I
Get the impression
That all the rejection
Normalized his affection
And led to her concession,

But I’m
The only one with objections.
The only one with obsessions
The only one with confessions.
The only one with depression.

So where in the world
Were all those processions
That told the girl she’d be saved
By divine ascension?

It was a lie.
It was a lie!

Saying when pig would fly
Was like waiting for goodbye.
Told the world I loved her
And her rivers ran dry.

So goodbye.

Goodbye.

——

 

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LOVE POEM #49 – SCHADENFREUDE

The Germans made this lovely noun,

which we adopted into English

somewhere in the mid 19th century,

precisely so I could talk about you today

 

with the utter respect you deserve.

You have spoiled me these past years

with your tantalizing lips, your perfect

hair, and your illustrious body. Too long

 

have you called me your sun and stars

behind closed doors and through keyholes

only to remind me that when we walked,

we could never walk together. Not while he

 

paid your rent. Not while you needed him

to get through college. Life is expensive.

That’s what you told me on the mattress

between sweat sessions in the apartment

 

last Tuesday morning before classes. Yet

the only expense I suffer is your big smile

every time you see me down the hall,

trying my best not too look at him

 

standing with his hands on your hips.

You don’t even hesitate to reach up

and pluck a ripe, juicy kiss from him then,

just to make my day taste sour.

——

 

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LOVE POEM #48 – MUDDY WATERS

The smoky voice, crackling

with the coarse rhythm

of an ancient studio recording,

asked the dimly lit room

to turn the lamps down low

 

and with the smell of

smooth Marlboro cigarettes

lingering after the heat of passion

she felt a quiet flame reignite

 

that she had thought was lost,

burnt out like the kindled fire

that was her first marriage.

 

Their silhouetted figures,

glistening with sweat in the moonlight,

sat sticky against the oak headboard;

limp thumbs tangled together.

 

He ruined that sweet moment,

as most men do,

when he turned to her

and whispered “I love you.”

 

That was all it took for the sweat

rolling down her chest

to freeze to ice, and soon

she was swimming

in muddied waters.

——

 

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LOVE POEM #47 – BLUE LOVE

I’ve spent all this time being midnight blue,

That I have lost my time to be with you.

You, the girl painted American red—

You’re the girl I can’t get out of my head.

 

You, the girl I sat next to for a year.

You, the girl whose smile could commandeer

Every man’s heart from here to Ireland.

Oh, the things I would give to hold your hand.

 

Do you remember that Slim Shady verse?

You’d rap it and be completely immersed,

And I’d almost forget that you showed me

The whole realm of music that is country.

 

You, the girl who wore those star-and-stripe boots

(Sorry if I ever checked your caboose).

You, the girl who loves the Anaheim Ducks,

You, the girl I know really love to…fish.

 

Oh, I know that you do it all the time

But that story is for another rhyme.

Tonight, I’ll lament ‘bout what I’m missing—

‘Bout how I wish ‘twas you I was kissing.

You, the girl with hair colored like a dove.

You, the one that cursed me with this blue love.

——

 

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LOVE POEM #46 – WHERE PIGS CAN FLY

I met a girl named Victoria

And suddenly I knew the meaning of euphoria.

It was like she had fallen from heaven

(‘Cause from one to ten, she was an eleven).

I thought, in truth, it was an angel I’d seen,

Because no one more perfect had ever been.

There was a shimmering smile in her eyes

That no mere mortal could have devised.

 

‘Course I’ve never been a religious man—

Never one to think there was a master plan.

But I was struck dumb on Earth that day,

And for all my words I could not say

What it was that she meant to me…

‘Cause together’s something we could never be.

 

Yes, perhaps there’s some perfect world

Where I end up being with that perfect girl.

Where hell freezes over and pigs can fly

And she breaks up with her perfect guy.

——

 

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LOVE POEM #45 – LOUNGING

Picture that night,

Lounging with Bob Dylan

Neil Young, and Louie.

Quite a night to be alone

Together.

 

The dark, hazy room,

Filled with a slight tinge

Of cool-blue smoke,

Where time passed

At a walk, not a run.

 

That’s the place I want to go back to,

A night before the fights,

Before the jealousy;

Before we were consumed

By the need to be adults,

And we could just be people.

 

Laying on the L-couch,

With our heads cradled together,

Our glazed eyes watched

While the ceiling spun ‘round,

 

Can you remember it, dear?

The distance in your eyes

Was an adventure then,

Not a plague.

You were so beautiful,

So alive, so calm.

 

Can you remember it?

I can.

 

I can still smell

The midnight air

Drifting through the window.

I can still hear

The chorus chanting,

“Keep me searching

and I’m growin’ old.”

 

I can still see you,

Lying there like a rose,

Red-lipped and thorny.

I can even taste the wine

That lingered on your lips.

What a night that was.

Can you remember?

 

If only you could.

——

 

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LOVE POEM #43 – GREETINGS

In your simple song

Was the rising melody

Of a water’s crest.

 

And you were the sea.

At once calm as still silence

And wild as fire.

 

The downpour of rain

Couldn’t dampen your sunshine

When you plucked those strings.

 

And when your song peaked

It broke like a crashing wave

In swift harmony.

 

I felt my heart race

Parallel to your plucking;

Like it was your strings.

 

In blissful release

I felt the song end, and knew

I must say hello.

——

 

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LOVE POEM #42 – TO THE SEA

“To the sea,

To the sea,”

She cried out to me,

“To the sea!”

 

And with the brisk summer air

Riffling through her frizzled hair

We shuffled our way through the sand.

“To the sea!”

 

We had smuggled in red wine,

And were feeling mighty fine

As the children tottered by.

“To the sea!”

 

In her tie-dyed summer dress

Standing ‘fore the water’s crest

She looked like Venus born again.

“To the sea!”

 

And I took her hand in mine

Wishing I had a bit more time

Before it all came to an end.

“To the sea!”

 

But to savor what time I had,

I held myself to feeling glad,

And, for the last time, swam with her.

“To the sea!”

——

 

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