lovecanbereal Poetry (146)

The fake,
The hollow fake;
The Impostor.

The one-dimensional one;-
Shallow as a wading pool.

The empty vessel.

The one, who puts on another's robes;
But who, underneath, is just a monkey.

The one who wishes,
To turn the freely given;
To a profit.

The one, with no discernible talent;
Will be exposed.

Beware, the anti-plagiarism software;
Beware, the originals, on my USB.

Beware, the original Time and Date Stamps;
Beware, the CS Copyright Warning.

Beware!



© lovecanbereal
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Like a Navigator, using maps of old,
I now consult my list for one more story,
Which I bring to you; (If I may be so bold);
As it yields to become Poetic Glory;
Which may skew the facts; - and yet it must be told,
By myself (now somewhat old and hoary);
Now reconstructed from the "mists of time"-
As I settle to the rhythm of my rhyme.

So locked down from Covid, in old Sydney,
I watch the news in intermittent bursts;
Feeling now, I well could lose a kidney;
Or catch the Delta Strain (which could be worse).
Nonetheless, I must write on, and give thee;
A true account of my 'lover's curse';-
And like the night-time rain, which falls relucent;
I write now of my life without inducement.

I drank the years away, let me tell you,
Time vanished in solution down the drain;
And yet I have the wit to now renew,
My memories, and half-forgotten pain;
Therefore, before, this rhyme now goes askew,
I will write down my story bold and plain;-
Concerning of a girl in Quaker's Hill*-
An encounter that was an act of will.

Does anyone remember Lavalife?
The lonely heart's club, using just the phone?
And if you do, you may have met your "wife"**
(Though not for me 'cos I am still alone).
Not that I was looking for such a strife;
But like the "poor stray" I need a loving home;-
I've swum in murky depths - yet they're pellucid;
And no one knows where they may find their cupid.

And yet the introduction service worked;
It worked a charm (as it was meant to do);
For as a lover, none of this I shirked,
Because ev'ry woman's diff'rent - so would you?
And so I put on my very best shirt,
(Having now a destination's rendezvous);
Her name was Anne **- she met me at the station;
Close to paddocks, (as the suburb was then).

The year two thousand and three, (maybe four),
My list is incomplete, and not conclusive;
At any rate 'twas Anne, she opened her car door;
We introduced ourselves, which was conducive,
To further happenstance (and maybe more);
The conversation did not feel intrusive;
And pretty soon we're both at her abode -
(I would have gone there sooner, had I know'd).

Anne and I were sitting tete a tete;
But not for long - soon we're on the sofa;
Another glass of wine to feel replete;
And quite soon after both of us in bed were;
Then making love betwixt the clean white sheets;
During which (and something like a gopher);
I went beneath to taste that furry heaven;
Which beats hands down the taste of bread unleaven!

Thus, the lovemaking, it did continue;
As rolling overhead a thunderstorm;
Pelted raindrops down the bedroom window;-
While lightning forked in phosphorescent form;
It gave me recourse to remain "in venue";
My prospects of leaving were now forlorn;
Now her on top, she tosses her long mane;
And where I was, I wished there to remain.

Her body womanly, her skin quite alabaster;
As I watched the ecstasy upon her face;
And her reasons, I never thought to ask her;
We're happy, private, and not in disgrace.
It transpired that her husband left her;
When he found a younger girl to take her place;-
T'was that (and maybe her diabetes);
The rogue was gone - with no need for entreaties.

As all good things, they must come to an end;
(I was happy, and so was she, in fact);
And of this tale, I do not recommend,
Superficial judgment - I don't retract,
A single word I've said, (or verse I blend);
So, you've had another anecdote, I'm back!
The CS poet, they call lovecanbereal;
Whose verse, and meter have a silky feel.



© lovecanbereal
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A woman's beauty may well surpass her soul -
A woman's beauty won't be revealed to all.
A woman's beauty - for the man who sees it not; -
That man will never see - that's his sad lot.

A woman's beauty - only seen in glimpses-
When two stranger's eyes meet - perhaps on a train;
And as we go to work in the rush hour, -
A quick glance may hold all of her power.

A woman's heart is soft - with a finesse -
The fair sex - and I'll call it a grace; -
Yet her love will go out like a light -
For the man who doesn't treat her right.


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Why is it men must sometimes beg a woman?
(That's even worse than on a bended knee)
To grovel like an insect on a common -
For something that should basically be free.
At twenty-two and feeling that day wanton
(T'was not a thing I should have done for thee)
And only once - two hours to get it on
So beg I did - and her name was Sharon.

Well at last that girl she then relented
(Just maybe out of curiosity)
You say by now that I should have repented -
Not mired myself in promiscuity?
I say this: to refuse an ego dented
Is to plunge in black despair - monstrosity!
I wheedled and I begged and I pleaded -
Just so I could give her what she needed.

She about the same age in St Peters*
And we were young and not at all in love
Well I'm just glad that no one came to meet us
(As we stole into a bedroom up above)
An act designed by nature to complete us
(And something to myself I had to prove)
At least that day we had an empty terrace;-
Wherein - and very soon - our hearts did race.

Good reader, I should spare you the profanity;-
The act performed - and that act only once.
On her part t'was a form of charity;-
Go through the motions - defy common sense.
Well, what is young lust but insanity?
A fever of the blood (our recompense)
I met her years later at a funeral
Where she thanked me for that single numeral.




© lovecanbereal
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Oh the joys of being a Heathen,
To be free of religious Brethren.

To see things as they really are,
And to not see God in ev'ry star.

The Cosmos is vast (that is true);-
But religion makes the mind askew.

So it is this: (I humbly ask);-
Please see things as they are.

Do away with Wishful Thinking,
Which makes you stupid (like you're drinking).

Kick that Opiate; Religious Smack;
Kick it down to Hell and back!

Kick that Habit - Religious Smack;
Get that Monkey off your back!

There's probably Life (apart from us);
As we sit on our Speck of Dust.

There's likely Life (apart from you);
So respect this - as I do.

To lift the Veil, to see things clear,
Is all I ask - in this life so dear.

You will have a new capacity,
To see the truth, in its veracity.

And aliens likely have their God,
For me, I'd rather have a dog!

What makes you think God cares for thee;-
On this Earth - with all its cruelty?

For me, I think there's Nothing There;
There's just a Void - not even air.

And so I do not fear Oblivion;-
It would be nice to have no worries then.

Oblivion, then, does have no worry;-
So why then, to the Bible scurry?

If Aliens have Gods, they're not the same;
As our Earth one - hence end of game.

Is there one God, or maybe two?
Or even several - is this true?

How can there be only one True God?
I think it's all a load of schmod.

There's a possibility of Reincarnation;-
Another life's encore/ovation.

If this is true, then there's Karma;-
So don't do a thing to ever harm her.



© lovecanbereal
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Her hair fell down in starlight tinted tresses,
Splashing every wave in silver light;
And all is hers when Earth Goddess undresses;-
(Old soul in young body makes her spright);
True only if my memory confesses,-
Her presence makes for earthly delight;-
A woman with a spirit from the stars -
When Venus lies juxtaposed with Mars.

Maybe all the planets in alignment,
Will suffice to bring an earthly visit;
To draw a man from his heart's confinement;
Is the reason she appears (this I posit);-
When she senses in another one refinement;
She descends from her celestial closet;-
From ancient dust that once was made in stars;
To haunt some lonely soul in city bars.

I see a distant star - is that the Lady?
Or just a lost diamond from her ring?
If I search the Milky Way, then just maybe;-
She fleets among the dust to find her king?
And in her star-clothes, luminous and hazy,
Her celestial vibrations she will bring;-
Though sometimes she will act - (as through a minion);
Earthly Affairs just part of her dominion.



© lovecanbereal
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To write more verse, before the Impulse dies,
To find a way to live out what life's left,
And let my mind free in the bluest skies,
Before I gasp and take my final breath;-
To find that heart where we are best allies,
Before the Reaper's sickle means sure death;
So when it's finally over - this life's game;-
I shoot my soul into the sky as Spirit Flame.*

To tell of what has happened - best I can,
To remember fleeting beauty when she came;
And tell of every girl to whom I ran;
(Even though I can't recall each name);
Well most I can, (when I was a younger man);-
And in my kismet, I will feel no shame;
Well, where's the shame in a person's destiny?
When we should live out what was meant to be.

And so I'll entertain with more vignettes,
To keep all poems honest -(like before);
One more time, I'll say this: "there are no regrets";-
Many's the women, and many were the whore;
With whom I've slept - (that is aiding and abets);
I've been to strange places, been through many a door;-
I count my self lucky, to now survive;-
So I'll write myself dry - while I'm alive.



© lovecanbereal
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The End Times are almost here,
So now it's time to be sincere;
The cause not quite so Biblical -
More decimation environmental.

Cancel Culture, and things gone mad,
History drowns in a sea of sad;
Creative content not rewarded,
Starving artists, and life gone sordid.

Every one pushing their own barrow,
Censorship makes thinking narrow;
It may be that no one's right -
So shit on Nature (despite her plight).

Still, the senseless urge to breed,
Another million mouths to feed;
Babies dying in the dust -
Adult to Adult, there's no trust.

Now cut down the Amazon,
You'll only know when it's all gone;-
So f*ckwits (like B*lsonaro),
Can make a Hell (where he will go).

And to top it all, now there's Covid,
(Though there were plagues before Ovid);
The difference is this one's man-made;-
To make us sick, (before we fade).

But that's ok (just don't ask Chyna);
As it violates the World's va*ina;-
And who decides just what is "truth"?
You'd best believe "fake news" - by Ruth!

So curse the cults, curse the Pope,
Curse us all, when there's no hope -
(The problem here was Evolution,
There seems to be a convolution).

Man-made God - that's his mistake,
Now's too late to apply the brake;
Many species have died out -
What makes Man think that he'll "win out"?

So come one day, when there's no one here,
Because fools ruined the Biosphere,
Man will have himself to blame -
'Cos self-deception's a stupid game.



© lovecanbereal
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Rapt in attention
As the pace car quickens
Horses score up behind
Like a phalanx
Seven off the front
And five behind
Makes a full field of twelve

Drivers in formation -
Now bursting off the arm
To settle down at speed
In two neat rows

The first sectional is fast - 27.6 seconds
And they are going like last weeks pay out there!
Back markers get busy and the field has already
Covered 600 yards

The driver in front plays on the reins
In an attempt to slow down the field
Only to hear a three wide train -
All flashing silks and thundering hooves
Now rushing around his outside

Eight hundred meters are gone
And the're already three wide-
Has the favorite gone all too soon?
At six to four on she makes a bid for the top
Only to land in the breeze

Another fast split 29.2 seconds
(Only slightly slower again)
They burst past the post
And out rings the bell-
Another fast lap now to come

At the burst of the bell
Horses quicken their feet
And drivers lean back in their gigs

Number one she still leads
Flashing silks gold and green -
Will she be an Emerald City girl tonight?

The driver leans back harder
To slow down the field
And succeeds in a 30.9 second split

The mare gets a breather -
But now they come faster
Rushing three
And now four horses wide

The home turn approaches
And they all fan out
To each get a shot at the post
The crowds on its feet screaming and cheering
For the tough little mare to get beat

The favorites now gone
(Loud swearing beside me)
But still the game mare just hangs on
They flash past the post
And I can see now shes lasted
To get up at forty to one!


© lovecanbereal
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Caught in a rip - the beach was unprotected
And no lifesavers there on Christmas Day
Where father now my life he resurrected
As I sunk in the white spume - my mortal clay
Was close to drowning - had he not detected
My Mums alarm - and witnessed her dismay-
As I sunk so very close to drowning
He leap't into the surf - his own life risking.

There I was - half drowned and hearing bells
Stuck in the vortex of a boiling surf
So very close - indeed- to where death dwells
And only nine years on from my birth
Drowning vitality in stormy swells
(And being too young to know just who to curse)
Though - almost - I did not live to tell of this:
Fighting - panic - drowning - in the sea's blue abyss.

The surf's wild spume of salty spray engulfed me
Dragging me into the current's vortex
And now the puppet of an angry sea
Where life can end so fast - like a shipwreck
I started to relax - my strength left me
I tried in vain to signal my two parents -
'Twas strange that the only thing I thought then
Is that I did not want to die a virgin.

I raged and struggled against Neptune's chains
Dragged beneath the boiling sapphire surf
Heroic George a hero now remains
And in this way still proves a hero's worth.
I - growing weak - almost - felt my last refrain
When father rescued me from a watery death
Both heaving against the roiling turquoise waves
At Narrabeen* my life my father saves.

In this rip, he found a lucky sand bar
We stood on this while the swift current raged
And would have dragged us both into deep water
(The current had just for a moment flagged)
On an incoming wave, we now toward, were
Carried thus to the shore (more swept and dragged)
And lying both exhausted on the sand
Now thanked "the Skies"^ that we had found dry land.





© lovecanbereal
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First blossom and first love are beautiful
To see affection in my girlfriend's eyes
Like flowers on a bush are plentiful
Although - amidst - a few thorns did arise.
Growing in confidence - though still bashful
We think first loves - perfection realized -
From my pen - this poetry - now unfurls
As I try to explain why I love girls.

I don't write here to talk about a fling
Or our first faltering indiscretions
But of the kind of love that will take wing -
(What teachers can't explain in lessons).
Now any kind of loves a funny thing
And it is blind and heedless of directions -
More so when we are young - it's free and feckless
Not conscious of itself - so wild and reckless.

A few years on and how do I compare -
What once had been so innocent and free?
When we broke up all was a black despair;
Till I saw other girls surrounding me -
Other maidens - blonde - brunette - and so fair -
(Though it is true that "all is vanity")
I could see the most sensible directive -
Was held by those with feminine perspective.

Go forward a few more years yet again
From this bountiful cornucopia
What some call affection - no one can explain -
Compared with first love's bright utopia.
Still, I need love - like a desert needs rain -
Any girl you have you make the most of her -
For all are beautiful in their own way
And when the sun is shining - go make hay.

Every native blossom has its tree
And every human soul a counterpart -
What's wrong for you - may be just right for me
And vice a versa (until death we part)
Every woman has a kind of beauty -
Be she virtuous - or be she a tart -
From my pen -this poetry - has unfurled -
I hope this explains why I love girls.




© lovecanbereal
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If she is a free spirit;- let her go;-
If she is yours;- then do respect her.

It's a woman's want to let her feelings show;-
And she'll be not yours if you neglect her.

If sometimes she is childish;- you should know,
She's born to raise a child;- look after her.

And if you have ever fought "man to man"
You'd know how much a punch hurts;-

So be a Man and do not hurt her.



© lovecanbereal
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