His stoic, weathered façade
Subdues an ancestral angst
Silences the unwept tears
Of duty’s diligent dissent
Soft lights mock his withered soul
Highlight the emptiness of now
Echoing forever’s endless “OOOOM’
As darkness swallows all
The thorn means no harm
For it is but a Rose’s champion
Sworn to solemn solitude
In service to his queen
The flowers open wide
Their scented sensuality
Pandering to the buzz
Of pollinations gigolos
A forlorn star
Sits on a passing cloud
The knowing do not know the unknown
If they did
They would know
What they don’t know
Central Park's cool event in May
Brings the gigolos out to play
Ilene says, "Its true!
They're all over you!"
Its Banana Split & Run Day
This is sage advice,
At gigolos don't look twice,
It's a pandemic world,
Solo orgasms, guys and girls,
All around the world,
Blip yourselves, dudes and girls,
Then on with the happy pants,
Back to work online, us ants!
How do I know all this?
Google's life coaching is the blip!
She misted into the bar
and stood blinking in the neon wash
Her gaze meandering
over tribal councils
of youthful conquest and conflicts.
Curled trestles of burnt blonde
hair framed her naivety.
Greenest eyes with hints of jealous dragon scales.
Red satin shirt worshipped her shape
and time stole her space
The murmurs of mirth
and sated thirst
could not daunt my gaze
From a tortured corner
a group of amazonian's
poured over a beer soaked table
a voice chipped the silence
"Susan.over here"
The slightest smile burned upon her face.
She shimmered by my table
to take her place within the gaggle of shadows
Eyes devoured her as she made her way
Unwanted advances spurned
Gigolos and gents rebuked
As the night unfurled my thoughts
could not erase that moment
played and savoured more
Night had stole the night
as orders were refused
Watched her group fit their armour
and re-attach high heels.
In the midst of drunken laughs
and squeals
And as her hand pushed the exit door
I stood and voice pardoned words
"Susan"
her hesitation turned to turn
and unfamiliar eyes met hers
"See you later"
My impertinence produced the slightest grin
and a moment shy of sin
Acapulco
I’d love to go down to the sea again,
The sea and the Holiday Inn,
Where some of the guests are awfully fat,
And others are awfully thin,
Where the average age is a hundred and four,
Give or take a year or three,
‘Cos another senior citizens’ tour
Has come to see the sea.
I’d love to go down to the sea again,
And lie on the golden sands,
And watch the dark-eyed gigolos,
As they roam around in bands,
I’d love to sit at the Patio Bar
And get ever so slightly pissed
“Have another tequila old boy ?”
“Well, one, if you insist.”
I’d love to go down to the sea again,
Where the con artiste is king
Where it only costs you an arm and a leg
For a genuine silver ring,
I’d love to go down to the sea again,
It’s the only place for me
Where it’s twice as nice
At twice the price,
Acapulco by the sea.
An Uplifting Poem
Tornadoes lift houses
Gigolos lift blouses
Breakfast Tongue Twister
Popstar tops charts
popping "Pop Tarts"
Poetry for Goats
Poets form words
Goats form herds
Goats Listen to Poetry
Poets choose muse
Goat chews shoes
Poet Gives Up on Goats
Poet wrote fair
Goats don't care
Wicked, Evil Grin
Word play criticism
Now say, "antidisestablishmentarianism"
9.12.18
Contest: Six-Word Couplet Series
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Then I remember it's not home;
that place with white dresses, hats
and pretty lace parasols, and studied
looks from crooks and salesmen;
no, no; it's none of these, it's me,
my old life, and I watch the milk-girls
and gigolos on Baxter Street, giving
long, drawn looks into adjacent nebulae,
ads for screen tests, and other black holes;
and that's all well and dandy fine; but it
isn't home, no, no; it isn't that.
Night owls scavenge
breakfast. Or is it lunch?
Lost track 4,015 wrappers ago.
Estranged, studded youth
shuffle the CD bargain bin like
Sunday afternoon gin.
No incentive to be satisfied.
Career bachelors shop efficiently,
selling their GI tracts to the lowest bidder.
Two gigolos walk a breast
intently past the coolers.
Candy is dandy but liquor is quicker.
Denim gazelles graze in the
bulk food, cheeks and pockets pregnant
with the doldrums of small town America.
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