I love your attitude
your solitude
I love your pride.

So sad and poignant
(and some day passing)

this feeling unforgettably tinged
with regret for the people we wish we could be
for eachother
the people we were,
forgotten.
The person we could one day be
for us-

That juvenile and swollen appetite's
not worth the linger
and you know,
and my strong hands are hot to hold
you know.
You know it all-
when fate or circumstance
can peel at layers of you
leave you naked
shaking at deception
in lust's cinematic dress.


...

You'll never hear this again
except
you need to hear this
all your life:

I wish I could always be
so careless with words like I am
when my poor heart is breaking;
I wish
I could always
smile wryly
at jazz and at blue notes
and sweetness, dripping
and pain.

I wish some joy could free my thoughts
my tongue
my words from chains,
those eerie iron links of everlast,
the way that ache
and undeveloped potential
become my backbone
and set me to soar
set to fly.

Devout adherence,
here.
Obsequious
and jubilias
faith.

Become the man you dream of being.
Call me in the morning.

10/05/2005

Author's Note: On hearing Cohen, Jones and Simone. Penned most of it in English while the notes and rasps of words came and found me. My poems come long and delirious now. and sometimes riotous. The words and phrases and images flow again. Here I am. I wonder at where I must have been when I left.

Posted on 10/05/2005
Copyright © 2024 Trisha De Gracia