Sonia, Summer Fridays, Fireworks...!

Summer Retreat...

Its Beauty was Its Only Reason to Exist (its only excuse)…

Pondering the potency of your peacock pride,

Leaves my eyes as bloodshot as my bowels. 

While spring showers the desert with salad Sunday memories,

I paint the plastique power of a lover’s persuasion on a canvas of Monday’s insomniatic dreams.

 

I’m steeping in a swamp of your sepulchral speech,

And your Libra’s lunacy casts serpentine spells upon a piscine compulsion.

But spare no shred of sorrow for its recipient’s regard. 

 

So here’s an ode to an age-old peasant’s predilection for a princess in her panties. 

It seems that all of her pining for the pacific came in vain,

It seems that paternal protocol kept her pinned to the pacifier. 

Now, seeming, she’s dreaming of her dungeon in daddy’s dominion,

(Voila!)

Vanished is the vinegar and the velvety veneer of Venus’ convictions…

 

You are Hurricane Katrina, the Cold War, and the fall of the Roman Empire…

You are the rain on Good Friday and the sun in the dead of Winter…

I am the stars and the moon, alive in the heat of summer…

I am the alligator tears cried from the lies in your dark brown, diamond eyes…

 

Keep your watch tonight miss moonlight for it’s only a matter of time,

A sign of the crimes, committed while feigning a change in your state of mind.

 

As the sun does its dance and divorces the day,

You’ll be showering with your sugar daddy, your sirens singing.

Then a symphony of serenity will sink your integrity and sirens no longer stifle the shrieks of insanity…

 

While upon the shores of serendipitous solitude,

The sun shall return to find harmony in the heart of the day.

And superman shall scrutinize my falling star through the skies in your eyes….

And for a second, the soundtrack from a motion picture shall sing sirens, ringing in your ears.

 

Now binging at dusk is your dingy, seasick secret,

Cringing through a memory of sex on Sunday mourning,

It’s your slurring scorn for your father’s warnings…

Your shameless stunt, you’re stripped and stark, blushing naked,

An obdurate affront to everything so soft, and sacred…

Mondays II...

The Peasant...

Mondays...

My Education...

Martha Washington's Pool

I squeezed and sucked on your favorite pillowcases in search of your squandered scent,

I thought we could salvage something…

Stoned and skinny I’m a slave to I should have,

Yet it’s hard to believe in, even If I would have…

 

Do you think about me as the bread is rising?

 

I am speaking to you as your tea is steeping, 

staring into your eyes with that sinking feeling,

and believe it or not girl, it's your cup, it's your cup...

 

Now you’re drinking to me as my head is fading,

I’m begging from your belly while your heart is still swaying,

"Join me baby girl, beyond the lines of Washington county!"

 

When was it that you last said never?

When was it that you last left?

 

It's never lonely out on that creeper trail,

and even the frozen Holsten will tell you, "it aint never cold!"

 

Do I think about you when the blues is playin’?

 

I'm speaking to you once again, this time your tea is on ice,

You sip sadness through a straw and the world around you cries.

Oh, your stares, those skillful eyes,

on a satiny screen through 2,324 miles of lies...

 

But you always had me right where you wanted me... (I’d go anywhere for you)

And now I drink to my regrets, take the odds on my memories. 

So stuck in my ways, while you're the model of change,

“I guess I have a short memory...”

 

Well, well, well… Do you think about me now that you’re bored (ing?) as hell?

 

Do you remember when it was, the time that you last loved?

Is it now or was it never? Your memory is short, would you even remember?

It’s been ever so lonely out at the Venice shore,

And still the rollin’ ocean roars, “All is fair…(in love and war)”

 

10 Things Yesterday...

Run...

1.   My Straw

2.   Half of a corona from last night

3.   A comforter from Lucy's room

4.   My dirty Macbook

5.   The Sopranos (season 6)

6.   Pro and College football

7.   Pro Baseball

8.   Her and her underwear

9.   A jug of water

10. A lot of time... 

Disintegration (Losing hope in recovery)...

I gathered you up

All of your lies,

your eyes, 

your truths

and your demise...

All of your self-,

your -pity,

your -disgust,

your lack of -...

If only you could see what you look like, 

stare at it,

as if your skull and bones were fabricated, created inside that mirror...

And still,

My eyes, 

my stare,

and my ears' hear, 

all hate to contemplate...