Let**

It’s painfully silent in the speakeasy
And this newfound peace makes me queasy
I lug around a heavy suitcase of deceit
For hiding one’s damning devils is no simple feat

Me

I stalk through and survey my domain
Hunting excellency among cheap cologne and horns of the midnight train
Right then, spotted her face and struck my most potent sneer
I could see past the plastic smiles in all their thin veneer

Make

Wait until she leaves the bar to drag her back inside the killing fields
Quickly hush her chloroform cries and keep my eyes perpetually peeled
I kiss her nape and fly away from the world’s wears
Whisper “You’re a gorgeous doll neatly wrapped in silk and nightmares”

You

Safe within the grasp of thickets, I force her grin and lick the dimples
Get struck with horror when my vision spots one too many pimples
I cry with the straw-filled fiends illuminated by lantern light
Then embrace my honed craft, without delay, for all waking hours of the night

Better

When all points of perfection fall out of quiver
When the sorrowful scarecrows look upon me and shiver
I’ll cut out my beauty’s flaws from largest lump to smallest sliver

.

Hide behind those rooftops
Staring down upon the crowd
Tossing little messages
You dare not say aloud

Looking over shoulders
Every shadow that you see
Assuming something lurking
Like a long lost refugee

Stir the *** of sewage
That along the street does flow
All will know the truth is there
In spite of what you show

Spread it to the audience
Or anyone who hears
Fuel the mass confusion
As you amplify their fears

Silence can be golden
Though it’s not your chosen art
As a stone that cries for moss
the rolling soon will start

Clinging to a chimney
Spewing signals made of smoke
From the fire down below
Conspiracies now stoke

Leave these happy people be
They’re none of your concern
Questioning the same as me
When will you ever learn

If my heart is my compass,
then you are true north,
the first and the last,
the only set course,
you are also the east,
and the south,
the most and the least,
my home and my house,
the only one to which I invest,
because you also are my west.

For you are the present,
the here and the now,
the reason I don't relent,
the why and the how,
if there was a question,
you would be my answer,
the name that I mention,
as you are simply her.

While I was asleep last night
Someone's painted the whole world white
They've turned the raindrops into ice
Like pretty jewels they look so nice

Pretty patterns on my windowpane
Perhaps the fairies have been again
Icy flowers and ferns are there
Fairy foliage everywhere

The dormant garden sprang to life
A pretty picture overnight
See the trees and bushes all
Decked as for a fairy ball

Daddy says it isn't so
Fairies disappeared years ago
If they were ever here at all
It's just the harsh winter weather, that's all

Mummy says “They may have been”
But I shouldn't delve into things unseen
I'll be watching out for them all right
They may return in dead of night

Keith Wilson

What is it about poetry
that so consumes you
Brings you to your knees,
cowering in a corner
of your own delusions
Reading in between the lines,
finding what is not really there
Dropping hints of absurd defiance,
collecting spoonful after spoonful
of puzzled meanings and chaliced dreams

Flowing symbolisms, metaphoric landscapes -
Where bushes are bluebirds
and sidewalks - bridges of no return

Why do you reach
into your pocket, searching for love
on white paper folded into a square,
when all along it faces you -
not in ink, but in smiles
expressing exactly what is felt
No boundaries or disguised emotions
penned in rhythmic sequence,
only true love, standing on this sidewalk -
which is only a sidewalk

What is it about poetry
that so consumes you,
when love is waiting – just outside the lines