LAlady70

You thought of me     and spoke my name And then you felt     all my pain You now wonder if all you did     Was done in vain

You are an old lost soul knowing not which way to go should you go here or should you go there the course is hard to tell though you have researched it so well

I long to taste your lips of wine     Tasting of sweetness straight from the vine          Having the feeling of knowing thou art mine

You can go back to where you came     Just don't expect it to be the same          Everything will be a brand new game

Love is fragile Love is kind Love should never mess with your mind Maybe someday this you'll find

My mind spins round and round Every time that you're around You cannot see What you do to me As I keep my feelings locked inside Where no one can find I've had my heart broke so many times before I cannot bear any others walking out the door

You "loved" twenty thousand times before And chose me as one of your ladies galore Well I discovered your others out So you no longer wanted me about You took me for all I had Which had made me very mad But now I can see How lost you are to me And I can let all those feelings be

The Kiss she stands in fields of wheat, in linen the colour of rush a hand, lightly calloused, sweeps slowly across her cheek, around her ear, through her hair                       a slight gasp....a faint smile an arm, tender and strong, slides softly down her arm, to her waist, around her back                       a nervous sigh....warm sweet breath drawing her waist tightly... bending her head gently... he smiles                       love in his eyes....a smile true leaning down, he touches softly his lips to the corners of her mouth                       a soft purr....he feels her rise he gently press

The Need I want. I lie on cushions of leather and lace, and I want. I sit here in comfort of this High-backed seventeenth-century Chesterfield Smoking sweet Cuban cigars and Sipping rich Oriental teas. I stare blindly into The burning hearth. This yearning heart. Phantom shadows of laughter Pitter-patter across The walls and ceiling. I am a man of misery and wealth, Jealous of the men of empty pockets And children. These glasses that frame my sight Are of the color gold, not rose. Old paintings adorn my walls whose Time-worn canvases I would gladly rend For a cheap Kodak of a family. When seen by society, I am A man of

Hate me, despise me, But know that you will never be rid of me. I am the wretched beast inside your heart. I am the very weight of your insecurity. I am the feeling of dread that binds you, Slithering through shaking veins. To me you are but a simple host, And while you suffer, I will grow. Feeding off the pain that tears you apart. I'll put into words and call it art.

Life is painted in abstraction, the way your love was always ultra violet, and burned through the pores of my skin, a spreading cancer, The impartial truths, numb lies, which hide behind green eyes and rising smoke leaving me held suspended in all the varying shades of black and gray. An Impressionism which at first from the distance vaguely resemble the shape of men but the closer you become the more it begins to fade into blurred lines. Cubic-like you are all sharp angles, hard edges, cutting, incomprehensible uninviting, and yet with a strange foreign allure, you cut to the bone, severing ligaments. Dream-like I submerg

Eyes Toward Heaven I see thine eyes of ocean bleu, A mellow yearning calling me; For my heart will I give to you, And scale the mount and swim the sea. But, nay. See I thine soul yearn, too. But for another's company. Can I not dream, and can't I gaze Upon the grace of angel's wings; To picture myself in your praise, And wearing one anthers rings; To listen through an unseen haze Onto the notes of love thou sings. When I float down from clouds surround, And am on pedestal no more, I plant my feet firm on the ground And unlock gates of heaven's door. Oh, then perhaps I will have found My angel, then I'll search no more. A R

Ode to a Battle Lost in Time Yon hill ahead, deserted of its fame,     Holds memories of heaven and of hell. For it was here two thousand soldiers came,     And here only a few would live to tell. With bayonets and smoke, and gunfire blazed,     And men's lives lost whose life had just begun,          The blood that spilled and filled o're crimson pools, Along the ruined land that they had razed.     The acts occured that day can't be undone,          Nor make, again, of stones and bones grand jewels. The smoking guns, the choking of the throats,     The calvary, a-stand from row to row, And firing in the midst of dark blu