As I draw your lips near,
Embracing all adversities,
Keeping true a premise,
Let us not set a feeling free.
Let us hold it tight perfected,
Together, like burning suns
Imploding, as final bursts
Of energies, a theory,
A star rid of infinities.*

© 2014 J.S.P.

Standing tall with beautiful petals
After awhile of being admired
A shadow was creeping upon me
It was a struggle for sun light
The weeds stealing the water
And wilting away
Until the gardener spotted me
Carefully dug me up
Without pulling my roots
Place in a *** and gave my light
Water down and supported my stem
Now I can grow
To standing tall once again
I am admired by others
But belong to my gardener
I have her to please
In her viewing pleasure
I couldn't have been picked by anyone else

The masked man would come to my window
but never crossed the grill to be inside
he seemed to fly while talking of tomorrow
what he spoke took me on a dark ride!

I see you child progressing to be a man
moving places running races knowing need
reaching farthest far and beyond till the span
feels too long and you’re weary of the speed!

I see you child going on a long trek
falling down getting up roaming wild
find a heart make a home and then break
in that wilderness sob like a child!

I see you child wide awake in the night
burning for pride hollow vain
while flickers out the last candlelight
darkness drowns the gathered gain!

As my fever weighs heavy on eyes sleepless
the dawn seems mercilessly slow
I know what he meant by a child’s progress
the masked man that came to my window!

WARNING:  Horror*...Readers might find this poem offensive or distressing.
_____________­_


1)
I know
once I was just like you
I was young and furious too
the world was too much
everyone made you feel
so hopeless, you think you could ****
I know exactly
how you feel

Like the time
my parents kept on and on
about responsibility
I had to look after my things,
that made me mad

And then I decided
I must assure them
I would grow up to be responsible
make them feel confident
I must put them at ease
so I did

And the police asked me
if I knew where they'd gone
and I showed the cops my perplexity:
“They were always 
responsible
in everything -
 how could they
just go away 
and leave me like this?”

The police and lawyers searched the house
and they found the will -
my parents had left everything to me
and had put my siblings
neat in order
stretched out on the dining table
in the basement kitchen


2
Like the time
then at work
the colleagues went on
about responsibility
and they conspired:
I was irresponsible;
they were conscientious;
I was a freeloader
Ah, the judges in one's world

the judges of one's soul

and one day
they found a worker in a bad state
dead and lying naked in the clichéd
pool of blood –
in the toilet, of all places -
with the words: *“How irresponsible”
on the floor

Everyone was in a state -
I moved inter-state
I was going places


3)
Dear, oh dear

don't cry

Darling, oh darl

don't bleed

There was a time when I married
(everyone finds it's a mistake;
they either **** their partner
or, to continue living,
they **** their own spirit)
but I was determined to grow
my body and spirit -
can we not get conventional? -
so I had minced pie for a time
and no one could bring
my wife back home
you see
wifey got
too comfy
and see she had this thing
(after respectability)
about responsibility
the role of husband and father and
parent and homeowner, mow the lawn
service the loan
and all that crap –
I quite believe she was going mad;
maybe she walked away into the woods
Was that responsible of her?

Dear, oh dear

don't cry

Darling, oh darl

don't bleed


4)
I moved into the woods
built a little cabin, below the rocks
and covered by the trees;
yet I had visitors
who had come astray into the wilderness

Someone wanting space for the night:
“Is there enough room in your cabin?”
“Why,” I said, “there’s plenty all round”
I was vegetarian
but the destitute offered themselves to me -
the religious might say:
God fed me 
even in the wilderness! Ha!

A wandering woman one evening,
she offered love in return
for shelter that night
She let me lick, taste her flesh
“Bite me,” she said
offering a foretaste in our foreplay
Why would they not leave me? –
these wanderers, the intruding world

No, I had not come in like Thoreau
or the Unabomber – but maybe
like the misanthrope Timon of Athens...
afraid of my own hate; but the innocent
seemed to be drawn in as to a...an...abattoir



5)
And now here we are -
I have come into your space, your cell;
gates and doors
yield to my fingers, if you must know
(always good with my hands,
good with my teeth)

And we are here
each against one's wall -
and each wants to know
who is responsible
for this mess
Who made all this?
Who was insane to give us all this?
It was a mad God

or a meaningless universe – 

either way, there is no responsibility
You and I are agreed

Here we are
each against one's wall
considering who will eat who...
*Make your move; I am famished

a learning experience
- the detailed
timing and precision

- a certain etiquette
in the rise and fall
of hands and feet

i learned the walk
- mirrored on the toe
of a spit-shined boot

shooting imaginary doves
in white gloves -

the proper fold
of the cloth
- tight and taught
with stars above

the tri-fold - not
a trifling thing we're told

the color of a mother's tears
and grip of a father's grief -
the why in the cry of a child

- sad song of the bugler
on a windswept hill
standing in the detail.

r ~ 10/29/14

I like the type of boy
Who isn’t overly sure of himself
Who fakes his confidence
So he comes across bold and fearless
But secretly needs reassurance
Though he never asks for it
But he allows his nervousness
To show once in a while
I like the type of boy
Who holds onto things
Far too long
And can’t let go
Even when it has come time to
And even when he really wants to
I like the type of boy
Who isn’t afraid of emotion
And takes feelings like a man
Without treating them
Like something undesirable
I like the type of boy
Who would prefer to read
Rather than smoke ****
Who would choose to watch an old movie on a Saturday night
Over getting drunk at 2AM with a group of strangers
I like the type of boy
Who over thinks everything
I like the type of boy who gets jealous
‘cause it’s kind of cute
I like the type of boy who is passionate
Who has powerful emotions
Who never does anything halfway
Who means what he says
Who isn’t out spoken
But considers his words
And uses them well
Because he knows their value
I like the type of boy
Who yells when he is mad
Isn’t afraid to disagree with me
But is never unkind about it
Who is willing to listen
Who is willing to talk
I like the type of boy
Who will tell me I have a beautiful soul,
Not a beautiful face or body
I like the type of boy
Who calls me something deeper than pretty
Who doesn’t shower me in in meaningless compliments
But when he does
He means it
And he says something a little more original
Than calling me pretty
I like the type of boy
Who has a darker side
But doesn’t let it overpower him
Who can handle my darker side
But is one of the few people
Who can bring my out my brighter side
I like the type of boy
Who doesn’t mind when I act crazy
Who isn’t afraid to yell when he needs to let something out
And isn’t afraid to whisper either
I like the type of boy
Who messes up all the time, over and over again
Who has regrets
Who shows remorse
Who cares about stuff
And isn’t “too cool” to give a ****
I like the type of boy
Who uses proper grammar
Who is willing to tease me
And joke around with me
And make me laugh
I like the type of boy who isn’t afraid
To be afraid
I like the type of boy
Who likes the type of girl I am








…so basically the non-existent type of boy :P

Repost if you like the type of boy or girl that most usually wouldn't and comment, telling me the type of boy or girl you like.

Those messages on
Life
They are pretty good
Like a rose plant
With blushing flowers

But who can escape
From tomorrow

Even the plant has
Thorns

Be happy
Be normal
Be confident

These words are
Easy and
Free of cost

But, how can we
Really

Understand life
And it's journey

aren't real.

Love is only an ideal
a belief we live
and never achieve.

But love stories we need.

Only its conjured spirit
makes some sense

of our existence!