let’s not get carried away
with my cache of failings
and unbless’ed idioscyncrasies
the brain mysterious,
untouchable
mazed, unreadable
the heart lethal,
more ingenious
blowing smoke, big guns
bang, bang
love
bang bang, love
I’ll cover your skin
like soft, warm
cashmere
kissing the inbetweens
moments of sweet seduction
hypnotised, I’ll take
your swelling soul in
bang, bang
love
I’m a gangsta,
Sweet Sin,
Love
is a libertine
Candide Diderot. ‘24
Sweet Sin. Love. Libertine.
There’s a glitch in the matrix
A system breakdown
You keep me there
Wanderin around
Blinded by the shadows
Runnin through the pain
Dancin in the waves
Drownin in the breeze
In through the out door
Out through the in
Baby we’ve gone crazy
All over again
When the skies darkest
Who will be there
when you’ve lost your dreams
Who will be there
when you come apart at the seams
Dancin in the waves
Drownin in the breeze
In through the out door
Out through the in
Baby we’ve gone crazy all over again
The streets are all empty
The crowds have gone away
Left you abandoned
No need to say
Pick me up hold me down
There’s no guarantees
There’s no inbetweens
There’s no inbetweens
There are no inbetweens
fear drives the dark
death rides sight unseen
devise a wicked threshold
miles gained while catching sleep
lost dreams and vague debris
passersby and inbetweens
the momentum of obscurity
time is the flicker of a snap
flees an instance
outline against brights beam
a moving silhouette
the weight of grief
hanging from trees
regret breathes in sweet
the swing of the dead
the tears of misery bleed
soon to seed
sharp stabs seeking green
a means to plunge deep
seeking a pulse to beat
true goes the steady stream
flowing tree to tree
shadowy bends bow to break
twisted sprigs move climbing feet
knotted tangled trunks beneath
a crown of twigs joined to extend
obscure limbs held content
a sea of branches transcends
rises steep to oversee
beyond the leaves
Terry D’Arcy-Ryan
grand towering limbs
reach to meet
branches a flourishing keep
twigs to trunks create
a stretch to breathe
crooked seedlings bow in need
live to die, and sow to reap
sewn together a needle to seam
hand to cheek
a means plunges deep
moves a steady pulse to bleed
seeping shallows underneath
beating tree to tree
a hollow quant and sweet
free will drives the darkness
a gesture to greet
the animal unseen
shadows join in to deceive
the passerby and inbetweens
a hunter to a prey
the profile of trees
dazed in the headlight beams
outline reality as a thief
stealing moments
yet to be
the forgotten trinkets
hang from trees
a keepsake for a figurine
trapped beads concede
to a broken string
fall along the wayside
finding hope is still free
playing content in the wind
chasing tossed debris
gathering leaves
one by on they fall weak
remnant colors in deceit
raise to a scatter
a boundless retreat
content to repeat
the redeeming sweep
Terry D’Arcy-Ryan
I lost my wife among the masses
She said I was blind and needed glasses
I searched the inbetweens
Remembered I fed her beans
Then closed my eyes and followed the gasses
They're searching for fuel by every means
Even in the inbetweens
Soon their obsession will pass
They'll find themselves some gas
Just do like us and eat some beans
It's time to write a poem of love
Let me see now where do I start?
Love is like a feeling you get
Somewhere deep in your heart
It doesn't feel like heartburn
Though many men swear it might
I think it's something about making up
Right after you've had a fight
Love is being considerate
I don't even know what that means
I just needed a four syllable word
To fill in the inbetweens
Love is something about the toliet seat
Do I leave it up or down?
Or eating that leftover meatloaf
With a smile instead of a frown
Love is sharing her dentures
When you have an apple to eat
Or maybe not holding your nose
When she asks you to rub her feet
Now ain't my wife so lucky
To have a man like me?
I may not know what love is
But I'm as funny as I can be
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