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JiminyC wrote:Gracias. Not sure its advisable Mat, but thank you.

I've been torn apart by these two women (TWO!!! (actually I've torn myself apart to get the wording right) ); the one on the train today, her beauty drives me completely insane, today was the second time I have seen her, and I couldn't bring myself to approach her, even though she got on my compartment when she was half a train away at the station...

I have resolved to talk to her next thursday if she is on the same train and we happen to be in the same compartment again, though I cannot imagine she will suffer this embarrassment again; mind you if I don't attempt to get to know her I will end up back in "care" for good! I've never been so moved nor so confronted by beauty, my state of mind has taken two serious blows now from simply sitting opposite her, it is ridiculous and it is, essentially, sad for me and for her.

Though I just went for a jog in the rain and have resolved to let these feelings move on, well, until next week!

Anyway, you can be sure to be kept posted of my affairs in some form or another, I am resolved though to find again some more flame and youth to add to my postings. Thanks again for the support.
Jim.

Dear Mr Jiminyc, I am not sure whether to be proud or sad! I have made the final 2 and yet whilst you talk in great detail about the beauty of my rival you have nary scary a word about the beauty of my mind which so enflames you equal to her ("the bitch") and beyond.

I know you will have the strength to make your decision and get it right. I think Thursday speaking to her is a terrible idea and I hope it doesn't happen.

Yes, Our Lord, lived a live of the Body as well as the Soul but he didn't go round saying he was choosing between 2, now did he. Where is that in the Good Book?

Kind Regards

Paula

REMEMBER, WE ARE ALL HIS CHILDREN*

*including a vacuous horrid bitch

Um.

Oh I am fickle, I am modern man;
I cannot aspire
To the Lords master plan
I look up at the cross
Atop the local hill
Lamenting
What a jagged little pill
They’ve still not put me up there
Those silly little dills
Oh I am vain, I am modernitus
I'd take all your souls
Then set them alightus
I am in the depths
Of self-flagellation
Wishing that the Lord
Would build a new nation
Then there is Paula
Dear little Pea
Waiting oh waiting
For poetry that must
Accommodate thee.

I wondered where you'd gotten to Paula, try not to fall for my font its just lines and lines and lines, and as for my sexy ass – shame on you!
P.s. I really don’t have a sexy ass, for all you assy folk.

I Pray

I, I, I, I,
Yes you
I, I, I, I
Yes you
Heart felt
Song as free as the Ebola virus
Generous as HIV
Courageous in love
As
You want, perhaps

Eyes, eyes, eyes
Terrible
Tell me about it
Nurture your heart
In this thorny nest

I, I, I, I,
You are
You will be again
As will I
Meanwhile wash
Take the water
Salt or fresh
Wash it all away
Just don't scrub too hard

Patience
I, I,
You are as I am
We are
Or were
When will we be again?
Wash it clean, perhaps
Repent

Eyes
They are taught such sharp glares
Eyes
They are bought at shopping squares
We are preposterous
We are maniacal
We are human
After all

I
Yes you are
I would have you no other way
But today
I’ve nothing
See it in my eye
Hear the distant music
Love is
But I am
Atoning

Love is
To grand an organ
For me to play

I
Love you
As I must
Until our dying day

One day
I will hear
These words
That
I
Pray

One day
I will hear these words
I pray

Children Of The Battlement

You, you fought a war 40 years ago
Your brother died eight years after
Crossing the street
The fight you fought
For the lives you love
The blood that was
Still drenching your bed sheets

Still there is talk
Amongst the civil folk
Of the battlement
Of the yolk
They say it is all Unjust
War should never be
Sadly, you and I can only agree

You, you came back from the jungle
A hero, a man
You’d served your country
Won gold, a true Olympian
But you did not feel any celebration
Nor hear any accolade

Eyes, they averted yours
Hearts ran
You learnt of the sentence
Of the murderers and the damned

They failed you
They failed you
Even I, another man
Can merely try and carry you
To what’s left of the promised land

The war, another war
So many goddamned wars
It filters down, down
Down
To Clans
Drug barons
Punks on the street

Penultimate resolution to eyes that cannot meet

There is no just war
There is no just life
Justice try’s to uphold the Law
But love
It is in strife

You, you fought a war 40 years ago
And every day since
We all now walk beside you
The enemy, the damned
Your ex-wife, and your shrink

The machine of war
A beat up pickup truck
Now
Upon the junkyard heap
Oh Lord, make it so, make it so
For if not you
Who can?

Little Longhorn

We’d been travelling
Edward and I
We’d gone from coast to coast
Upon the Isle of White
There were strangers
We were strangers
It was all relatively
Strange
Then there were chips
Upon the beaches
They were nice
Eddie whined a lot
About his rhododendrons
He’d seen all that he could see
I was perfectly happy
Sitting in the shade of the big trees
But you know
You know
A holiday
I suppose they come
And go
I don’t know darling
Really
I don’t know
Next year we’ll take the kids
But right now I am inclined
To, well
It’s a little embarrassing
But adopt a child
In Ethiopia
Perhaps even
Change my vote
Next time

Lingo Loco

Reading it, READING IT, Reading it
It looks like shit,
Reading this, reading that
What am I looking for?
Yes, yes yes, Yes yes yes
No!
No, oh no no no!
Well, I don’t know,
What is it?
Hmmm
Mmmm
Possibly
What? The phone?
Who is it?
Oh, tell them I’m busy.
Yes, no, yes, no
Oh,
I don’t…

A Good Doctrine

It is concerning
Indeed, very concerning
Concur, one to three
These drawings
Of angst
Of failings
Of mummy stabbing daddy
With a cleaver
A worry
A worry
My what a worry
That the lad should be scribbling
These things
Of thee
You’ve of course
Some cause for concern
Concern yourself
Of course
Well, if…
If you weren’t
Already
In a hearse
Yourself
With me
But do relax
Do
There’ll be other times
Renewed
Not just that last time
When
In shards of lime
We buried
Half of Europe
For you
He is a Plague
Very much a plague
Oh yes
Conquer, concur, take fright!
We’ve no real
Resolution
In destitution
We will renew
Our murmuring
Respite
So relax
Please do relax
Please do
What other options
Have we left now?
Time will tell
Time
Tells all
It’s just a little sad
It’s always
Too late
Debate it
Yes by all means
Go ahead
Go ahead
You’ve very few options
Left you
Not until
All is said
When we lie down in this deathbed
Do we realise
The significant view
Abated
Abated
Lines wholly underrated
That worship
The worshipping mew
The spire
Conspire
To retire
My fire
As
What was lent
Is now
A glorious hue
Such glory our love
That we knew
The boy will be fine
In boarding school
He will be
Divine
If
If only
Only if
His drawings
Of you
Are refined
Now really I must bid you
Adieu
My steed rocks on the table
If you must
Than you must
Delight in mistrust
It is after all
The best
The one and the only
True
Fable
That and of course our disgust
Disgusting, overtly lusting
My, my, is that the time
Is that you?

The Candle, the Cradle, the Cause.

Upon the late hour
Sits the lone scholar
Riding upon the motion of time
The ineffectual labours
Of long lost law

There are tears in his eyes
There are cars driving by
The moments reprieve
The wind just a sigh

The work cannot be finished
It is a life
It is a mission
But to read over manuscripts
It is so much more, without the derision

The echoes in the chambers
Of inconsequence
Disfavour
The Lords of those crumbled edifice
Who worked upon popular misgivings

Now they give thanks
To the fallen bricks, empty barracks
They wander empty corridors
As the scholar bends himself some more

There are rattles in the kitchen
Upon the stove the bottle’s heated
The infant at her side
Both sombre in their midnight pride

The scholar bends down to his chore
Finding light
But to late for more
The hour of another day
Passed before syncopations fray

The candles blown out
They meet in the hall
The three are blessed
The work is done

At least for today

2000 +++ Years of Turning Water into Wine

So you wandered onto set
The lights were dim
The donkey’s load beset

You looked around saw love
Your mother there wailing in the throngs of deliverance
A star with your name on it
A town not unlike many other towns
Around that time

You learnt of Law and majesty
From a bunch of guys
Who knew a thing or two
But it wasn’t all happening for you
Nor a lot of people

Who’d heard of compassion
The right thing to do
But then off to the colosseum
To watch them get eaten by lions
Stuff like that

Seemed to be happening
A fair bit, strange shit
It wasn’t by any means
Anything new

You didn’t have a father
But you did,
You didn’t have a hope
Not that your business went bankrupt either

You just got to that age
Where you thought
I’d like to see a change
The spirit of the world
Opened up inside you

Of course this is never really appreciated
It gets in the way
Of the lion eats man show
It just gets in the way
Of what, God knows

But you sure as hell caused a fuss
A stir
What you said was alright
It’s helped a few souls
Helped feed the world
I suppose
I don’t know

Where do you come from
Where did you go
There is some possibility
You watch over this whole show

Perhaps with a smirk
Sometimes in tears
The voices of some
Others of fears
You’d know them by now
I don’t doubt that

Well what you said makes sense
The Samaritan
The loaves and fish
The hands that with the touch of compassion
Heal

Yeah, I guess
I suppose
Like I said
Nobody knows

But a soul, a life
The worth of compassion
It is in everyone
And I think you know
Its even coming back
Into fashion
In its own idiosyncratic
Popular rations

God knows what comes after that
God knows…

At the Christmas Table

Upon my Left
Sitteth Motley
He is Our Cat
He has never been
Motley
In his life
But that, so be it,
Is his name

At my right
Sits Wiggy
Rather more apt
A name
For Our Dog
He will wig you out man
Oh yes
He will
Well, not really

This is the seating arrangement
The meals vary
Motley is having a dried dish of
Well
God knows what they put into those things
Wiggy
He will eat his meat
I am having leftovers
It will be dinning
Extravagance
For three

The pulling of the crackers
May pose a problem
Especially if I lost to both
As they are not in want to share

The jokes should go down nicely
Reminding us why
We’d rather just be alone
Him, him, and me

Overall it should be a lovely Christmas dinner
I don’t foresee any real problems
Not if Wiggy has his siesta
And Motley manages
To get out of the house
And run free

Merry, merry Christmas to thee.

Penny For Your Thoughts

How quickly did it wan away
The life force, the child at play
Asking for a coffee to catch dissention to forget to pray
How quickly did it wan away
From monumental moments
To a creaking husk
The lovers inside the attic turned to dust
The foyers of our entertainer’s soul
Turned to rags like the old dust bowl

How quickly did it wan away
The moments when his life did play
A role that moments could not dissuade
The penny of our time our mind
This conceived construct conceptual reptile delight
The mormons socialist
The moron’s motorist
The heckled dead the dead heckler
How quickly does it wan away

To life’s affront a head caved ache
To mysteries of old that yearn the body snake
Fore to more our lives are run
To end down mythology
To end up there in mid air
To end strike midnight
How quickly does it wan away
Each new bubbling payday

On the Question of Authenticity

There he worked: daily, hourly, quarterly and then some
more, he laboured in vain they say, they always say
that labours are in vain; that which courses through the night
and takes a hold

Of all these things, special holy ritual of
life, that spans back beyond knowledge and goes
forward into the breadth of where we cannot hold.
Is it all industrious, his illustrious
career that took him from our bosom our
pride and joy, a place we held and
nurtured him with our milk

Of ages.
Now they say he copied it all, that
he was no more original conceiver than I
of he and what nonsense can that be.
He who walks head down now, not
looking into the eyes of the clanging horde with smoke
billowing from nostrils, he just goes back to write it
and face the same old accusations, he says
he doesn’t care.

But I know he does.

The Flower of Truly Meeting

A penny for your thoughts I said to her
she took it beckoning me to watch where she would place it
At the mall in the plexiglass covered reception of charity
went my penny and we watched it spiral out of sight
She turned to me and she was just as clear
Showing me where every word I spoke to her was travelling
I was moved to the depths by the care she gave every utterence
You are just as clear she said to me
and it allows me to enjoy every word I give to you
How can we hold to such beauty I asked
She gave me a Golden Splendour
A flower that blooms for one day
She smiled and was on her way


Jack

Does anyone know how to turn this into a poem? I think it has some potential

I like it just the way it is Jack, though I guess we will have to arm wrestle over the title. Cheers, keep up the good work.

A beautiful exchange, Jack... come back... come back... come back...

Really beautiful.


~ Lizzy