cafetwo2010 Poetry (644)

She is but a humble seed craddled
in the warm arms of mother earth

Enshrouded in darkness her loving stem pushes quietly and ever
upwards towards the sun of life

She is but a bud of hope when her
tiny peddles and dew drop eyes
smile at the kiss of spring

Daily she is nurtured by the light
of life as she begins to stretch
her sleepy peddles towards the
heavens

She is but a messenger of love..
a child of eternal dawn

Who is the female movie star I'm most
attracted to. There's actually 'maybe' three
or four that are very close but the one that
drives me crazy you must guess. Do you
really know the kind of woman that can
pull my chain? Take a guess. She's a modern
actress. She portrays herself as pretty much
down to earth and a one man woman.
Ok madiens..who would I really be attracted
to? Do you know me. I've dated women
with her personality. But maybe you can
teach me the error of my ways. I'm all ears.
God bless the maiden detectives.
And knight's will win an engraved bronze
shield.
Good luck. cafe2

Give, give, give,
me something..
Something that tastes like
your girlish dreams..
Give me your pensive gaze, the
one that drank a forlorn sigh
in a lonely cup of tea
Give..shall I plead?
A taste of your bare feet
touching the pristine leaves
of a dew drop forest
Give of the music that makes
you dance naked in a crimson
sunset
Take..from me the fire of my
loins by the rivers edge
Make me, make me the king
of your soft breasts
Slam me, chase me, run me
until I capture your soul and
imprison your hot fleshly legs
til they break my back in tigress
passion
Make me more, make me man,
make me your violent desire
Give me..the taste of your souls
wine
Let us climb to the summit..
upon that red jagged clift that
juts dangerously over the ocean
And let me drown your flesh in
all the manliness of me-

After all these years..
I'm still standing in
the rain
It's still just me
The lonely walks
The empty chair accross
from me
The dreams at night
The hope
The dying hope
But these old shoes
keep walking
Ever walking
The die has been cast
The dice have been thrown
You never invite me
to dinner.

When I think back on my childhood
days, and the wild wonderful world
set before me, I sometimes wonder
why I had been lead into such a
fools paradise..
Cotton candy, and roller coasters, yo-yo's
and sling shots.. Really?
Camping in a tent in my back yard with
school buddies with flashlights listening
for any sounds of the boogy man.
School buses and homework gave way
to teenage years, and gradually young
adulthood
And as all dreams must awake, so to
must ferris wheels and bright lights
come to a grinding hault
For the boogyman had been waiting
in the shadows
He had come to kill and destroy and
there was no refuge in camping tents
with bright flashlights
I was now on the run hiding in the
shadows, and paradise had vanished
in the haze
And stooped down in some dirty alley
way I trembled and cried for my
paradise
But through the rain and cold the old
street lamp lighted before my innocent
eyes the world and all its wicked glory
You..were the boogy man.

A real woman:

Who doesn't lust after me simply
for a lock of my hair.

Lol.

Is it Friday yet?

Truth machines we
humans are..
Ever rumaging through life's
yardsale of meanings seeking
some validation of our self worth
In the pouring rain we thumb
through threadbare platitudes cited
by those who have gone before us
and for a quarter there's a carrot on
a stick for evey lustful sensibility
Yet, the machine cannot stop as
natures stupendous anomaly of the
me seeking me perhaps has its roots
in some devils trick
We are a species of disembodied spirits
searching for a body with legs that we
may walk to the throne of our own
Godhood
If we are one of another we will not
have it..little gods without a sceptre
is second class diety
The truth of all trues must be handed
us with mathematical precision
We will not be denied the ultimate..
Yet as we scrounge around like worms
burning on a hot sidewalk the still small
voice of our creator whispers within the
confines of our hubris
Have I not shared my power with you,
and have I not given you all things?
'For who but the crown of my creation
could think such thought's as thee?'

Only the lonely fine last nights
tears in the palm of their hands..

Only the lonely pour their
souls out to walls that
cannot hear

Only the lonely can see their
quivering lips in that old
cracked mirror

And only the lonely will hear
a weeping God mend their
broken heart-

What have I to give thee
that you do not already
possess
Am I not a sojourner through
life as thee
I built you cities and vindyards
yet you sit upon your terrace
and gaze at the stars
Your heart yearns for that mystical
union that beckons you from heavens gate
I gave to you children that danced
in golden fields of wheat and you
saw them prosper in the earth
Yet, their tiny hands became fists
of vengence and your heart was
broken
Your silk black hair I combed in
evening mist, yet your hearts desire
languished for some home beyond
the stars
And when you died I blessed mother
earth for her warm soil cuddled you
in a babes sleep til your dream angel
carried you into unapproachable light-

Poet's practice pleasing prose prolifically
penning plentyful poems perceptively
penetrating peoples pensive propensities

Writers write weighty words warning who's
waring willingly when winters wise women
wear warm wraps worring woefully where
wicked ways wrangle wtetchedly

Mamma me-a marveled merrily marrying
Michael-Mary, meaningfully measuring
many miles, moreover making mindful
mixing metaphors marketing marijuana
massively manevering maclicious men
manipulating mankind-

For months we traversed the
high seas, and scorned the
mountainous waves
The sails were strong and I
sheathed my sword staring in
defiance at this tempestuous
sea
The crew grunted in sweat and
muscle tending the oars
The Viking island of Dugal had
never been breached by the
foot of mortal man
Still, she remained captured
in that dank and insurpassable
cave by the hellish dragon, and
I steeled my resolve to free her
We entered the straight of Canfire
on the 23 of May, and the trecherous
clifts forbode certain doom with
errie echo's through the jagged
sentinals of black rock guarding
the Canfire shore
This maidens trust burned in my
soul and my loyal crew have sworn
on pang of death to breach the gates
of hell to do battle with the beast
We approached the vast black hole
of the caves entrance in the deathly
fog of morning
Screams echoed from deep within
the caves interior and we rushed
headlong into the mouth of this
hollow pit of terror and my sword
lighted as a crimson fire and I
rushed toward the firey roars and
volcanic smoke that issued from the
mouth of that massive and thrashing beast
All night we fought the beast
Half the crew was devoured by the
whipping tail and razor teeth
Yet in the green swirling fog I slashed
with my last ounce of energy and
scooped up the maiden quivering
within the clef of a rock
I carried her to the ship and dressed
her in tiger pelts and adorned her
neck with stolen jewels
Their was nothing left to do but
incline on the ships deck and roll
in the sweat of desire as a silvery
moon sat like a white ghost on
a black sea-

I languish in chains..