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Poem

When you’re shaken and stirred by your love for another
And the song of the heart sends the head to the nether
When you clean all the grim off the hope to discover
The pale ghostly figure of a once strong lover
Standing over your shoulder and in the path before yer

All the words that was spent, all the touches too
How the blood pays the rent when the heart’s overdue
How the future’s forgotten when the past clutches you
How temperament is timed to the reenactments untrue
In the old habitual view of the beacons in the blue

All the wistful dreams admired in the over-exposed night
Secretly mishandled in the darkening morning light
Brilliantly disguised amidst the many a broken right
All pent up, packed and unboxed at heart’s aching sight
For the hard-eyed delight of which no ashes reignite

It’s a curled lip glossy spread and a pout at the ghost
It’s a damaged motor chanting on the road to the coast
Where lone-isle weary figures are cloaked standing on post
Claiming their measure, their misgiving, their bitter boast
About the thieving dream-host to whom they gave their heart most

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