All the knowledge
had disappeared
All well rhymed lyrics
have been adjusted to tune in/with

Romantic unquenchable yearnings
permutate,diverse this unending
word pool of aesthetically stolen

Shamanically borrowed artistries
energy packed and sipped into
shape, forms, symbolic  arts

Arosen on the riparian arrival
of Myrh, Vanilla and Rosemary
scented waves crashing Angels

My pen blots under the old red Pine Shade
Ink fingertips dyed black, other times Pelican
Blue.

There will always be Paris

Written For The City I love
Jude Kyrie

*There is smoke in the air tonight.
In the old city that has seen many
wars and tribulations.
But smoke clears
those left will move on.

I do not want to
remember Paris like this.
It is so easy to do.
In the cold sadness.
I want to see the sprinbgtime
on the banks of the Seine
with lovers kissing
as the blossoms appear.

I want to see the artist
creating the beauty of the old city
and its lovely ladies.
I want to hear
Edith Piaf singing
La Vie En Rose
as only she can sing it.
With her heart full of passion
and love for the people of the city
pinned to her sleeve.

I want to be young again
and fall in love
with a beautiful french girl
her kisses sweet and tender
her heart carefree.

Tonight my tears flow like rainfall.
But it cannot last
not with Paris.
Not with its life blood
spilled on the streets.

I love her too much
and I will return
For tears are not the way
for us to say goodbye.

My inner demons have looked me in the eyes for the last time yesterday.
They screamed, clawed the floor for help.
They pointed to my head, my heart and my stomach as they are all golden like they once were.
I named them all after bad habits and bad addictions.
Their eyes are red and their skin is black. They never spoke, but one of them told me in a soft voice, 'I hope it all works out for you.'
Thank you, guilt. I hope so, too.

Wintry boughs against a wintry sky;
  Yet the sky is partly blue
    And the clouds are partly bright:--
Who can tell but sap is mounting high
  Out of sight,
Ready to burst through?

Winter is the mother-nurse of Spring,
  Lovely for her daughter's sake,
    Not unlovely for her own :
For a future buds in everything;
  Grown, or blown,
Or about to break.

When you were single, you suddenly decided to join us.
Spent most of your days hanging out with us.
Made yourself a part of the group, which we all welcomed.
Treated you like a sibling almost, banters and jokes abound.

Months passed by and we saw you with your partner.
When you told us you found your special someone, we couldn't be happier.
We should have known though,
Your spending time with us was through.

When was the last time you joined our gatherings?
When was the last time you talked to us about anything?

Now that you are no longer single again,
We seem to be of no use to you.
Now that our friendship has reached a strain,
We seem to be dead to you.

Some friend you are.

I'm fully aware
Of the sadness in your kiss,
But the softness of your lips
Makes it easy to bear.

And yes, I am conscious
That your kind hands are calloused,
But I will always hold them,
I will always be there.

Sometimes I daydream
Wonder what it'd be like
To just be next to you
Be able to reach over
And hold your hand
Look into your eyes
Maybe see something there
That would make me stay
Hope you feel the pull
Just as much as I do
But it's all just a daydream
You're miles away
Lost trying to find you
And I'm here alone
Daydreaming about you
What it would be like
To actually meet you
Be wrapped in your arms
For the first hug
Hear your voice
By my ear
Maybe you'll say something sweet
And I can grin at you
Oh God these daydreams
Are going to **** me
One of these days
But I do it anyways
Let myself pretend
That you'd be good for me
And good to me
Make believe that you see
How I feel
That I care about you
Instead of being blinded
By your choices and ignoring me
Cause that hurts the most
You're too busy
Partying, drinking, smoking
To see what's in front of you
That I have feelings too
So here's to the guy in LA
Who's too busy being a *******
To notice me