Long Good looks Poems
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I can never comply with fastidious hygiene
Try as thee most persuasive person might,
he/him, she/her,
they, them... can never wean
yours truly always objected
being told when to bathe/shower
particularly when puberty
found yours truly a tween
and my mother (deceased eighteen
plus years - sess her bowl),
she exerted authority
and told her "take a bath,
or no supper"
analogous to a queen,
strict disciplinarian to boot
who wedded her king
(my late father) at age nineteen
the latter (day saint) quite keen
nevertheless both experienced
love towards each other
and tricked out their progeny
(myself included) with halloween
getup, I vaguely recall Amelie Beth
(their eldest daughter -
older sister of mine)
donned as an angel
lighting up night sky, an empyrean
permanent heavenly fixture
popular through Byzantine
epoch, which blinded
her brother (me),
cuz yours truly, the devil in disguise.
Here I sit scores of decades
now edging closer to the edge of night,
and approaching those twilight years
remembering protesting vehemently
(way past the bewitching hour)
not wanting to wash myself
in the tub (water frigid cold), I write
how mother dearest,
whose presence I wanted to smite
this puny progeny
grappling as a neophyte
whose Lilliputian stature
(when a prepubescent)
a over five feet in height
who when constantly
teased courtesy bullies
ran back to ma mommy
whose son totally affright.
If employed in social services field, why
the above might justifiably
smack of insubordination
hashtagging me as Pigpen thereby
wharf fare prompting me
to cleanse myself diving off a Quai
in an effort for Peanuts gallery
to accept yours truly well nigh
but unfortunately
getting mistakenly captured
as a prisoner of war
forced by Japanese to construct
two parallel bridges spanning
the river Kwai
as part of Burma Railway,
also called the Death Railway,
for the many lives
lost in its construction,
but my daring do,
(and boyish good looks)
found yours truly
whisked away to the island of Hawaii,
where hula dancers
choreographed, entranced, and finessed
their seductive routines
a native lass smitten courtesy
one wily word wizard
whose courage bucked up
after munching powder milk biscuits
taken as mistress
helped beget our daughter,
who became apple of mine eye.
Once upon a time there never was an Ego
For it was alive by the breath of wishes of those who were suffocating from it
I carried the cross for being egoist
Had my hands nailed, had myself hailed
Confident rain was self-absorbed
Self-esteem felt the pain
Self-assertive had risen and reign
To conquer and succeed I was self-assured
That I too was not self-conscious
I never was an empty vessel 'cause I was self-contained
I couldn't handle to be self-effacing
Greatness was self-evident
People stand with me for being self-opinionated
For they cannot fall for self-pity
In the frame of success I see a self-portrait
Less of the devil for I was self-possessed
I had plans to be wealthy but not selfish
For my soul is sold to me
Once upon a time there never was an Ego
For it was alive by the breath of wishes of those who were suffocating from it
Created by mental act, a big head bloated by self-inflicted praise and external compliments
It is evident that its been hated that I've been Ahead (a head)
Its better if people held their breaths and never deliver compliments
Reduce the explosion of me being big headed
Or leave me alone with my good looks & big nose
And I remain breath taking
Taking away opinions and displaying facts
Handsome, good looking has never been the question
To answer attraction with confidence
As I walk confidently around big names, as big headed
As they speak unmoving words with no flames
My big name, amongst lame names,
I lament to their ineptitude
I have suffered the loudest noises of being tagged as arrogant
I now continue to walk boldly &
tramp on fingers of those who have cut their hands short not to applaud me
But what I say is Label me arrogant
Certify and stamp me as arrogant
Race for first place to call me too confident
And your opinion comes in at last place
At the finish line, my gold medal, my golden thoughts
My presence is victorious,
Make me a subject to you predicates
As a premier of self-acceptance
A victim & short-faller of your acceptance
A preface to ego
There never was Once upon on a time
But there was confidence, it always had its Ego
Crucify me for juggling your critics
Once upon an ego
Once upon a Me
Cos it was,has, and will always be about me and my Ego
Aah... how great the taste of water...
After lounging in bed until
late morning/early afternoon
we (the missus and I) felt restless
as garden variety buffoon
or think chrysalis itching
to escape encased within cocoon
nevertheless, she mustered hubby
long since retired dragoon
late morning/early after light
clothing he must post haste festoon
he protested against testing
comfort zone merely donning galloon
his self conscious morphology
declaimed repeating honeymoon
embarrassing circumstance,
when caricature artist accentuated
pitiful spindle shanks published
front page see national lampoon
most recent issue or possibly
toothpick legs ought be printed June
a boot six days hence excluding
counting Memorial Day 2020
whereby barenaked ladies
(spouse included) unwittingly ironically,
farcically, and comically forced
skinny dipping under full moon
after newly bride & groom
pledged troth unwittingly nudist beach
entered momentarily devoid
of swimmers, who suddenly at noon
witnessed madding crowd
momentarily oblivious to laughingstock,
one after another burst out guffawing
(at my expense) at picayune
sorry/lame excuse for male
adult *****sapiens peculiar physique
courtesy anorexia nervosa
(when thirteen years old), I caused ruin
permanently stunting psychological
and physical characteristics,
for better part of existence
(mein kampf) uttered lamentable tune.
Absolute zero self worth (the
big goose egg) matter of fact will
state being earnest and frank
going on walk thru Schwenksville
thought person in every
passing vehicle (quite brisk traffic) rill
lee mocked appearance when
espying long haired pencil neck
geek fortunately blessed with
few gray strands deliberately colored via quill
to ad some convincing heft
to boyish good looks, though mill
stone metaphor linkedin with
living little approaching over hill
soon petering into becoming old
and senile, nope never got fill
of teenage romance, I started
dating during early twenties
deterrents to integrate among
including sounding think duckbill
nasal honking, and even hot spell
temps spiking high eighties/
low nineties dressed head
to foot ready for big chill,
especially cuz dehydration less likely.
SILENTLY AWAY (LORRIE)
AS I LIE HERE IN THE DARKNESS IN MY YEARS THEY CALL DECEMBER,
I SEE HER FACE BEFORE ME, HEAR THE LAUGHTER I REMEMBER.
FEEL THE PAIN DEEP IN MY HEART THAT NEVER GOES AWAY.
TASTE THE TEARS UPON MY FACE, DREAD THE COMING OF EACH DAY.
SHE WAS LORRAINE WHEN I MET HER, SOON BEGAN TO CALL HER LORRIE,
AND WE BEGAN TO TURN EACH PAGE, CREATING OUR LOVE STORY.
ENERGY AND LAUGHTER FILLING EACH SUCCEEDING DAY,
NOT NOTICING THE DAYS OF YOUTH SLIP SILENTLY AWAY.
MIDDLE YEARS GONE QUICKLY, THE YEARS THEY CALL JULY.
HOMES AND JOBS AND CHILDREN, EMPTY NESTERS BY AND BY.
TIME AND TREASURE THEN TO SPEND, GOOD HEALTH, DREAMS COMING TRUE,
FORGETTING LIFE IS FRAGILE, DAYS MAY BE MANY OR BE FEW.
THEN LATER YEARS LIKE GLOW OF YOUTH SLIP SILENTLY AWAY.
MORNING RUNS BECOME JUST WALKS, HAIR SLOWLY TURNS TO GREY.
ENERGY TO LETHARGY, GOOD LOOKS TO SLOW DECAY.
THE WATERFALL AROUND THE BEND, CLOSER EVERY DAY.
EACH DAY A TIME TO CHERISH, TO ENJOY THE NOW NOT NEVER,
BELIEVING THAT OUR EBBING TIME COULD SOMEHOW LAST FOREVER.
EACH PASSING YEAR ANOTHER YEAR TO ADD TO THOSE REMEMBERED,
BUT FOR HER THEY STOPPED FOREVER IN HER YEARS THEY CALL NOVEMBER .
FOR THEN CAME THAT DREADFUL MORNING, I FOUND LORRIE COLD BESIDE ME,
HELD HER HEAD BETWEEN MY FINGERS, HELD OUR MEMORIES INSIDE ME,
AND THEN I KNEW FOR CERTAIN, CLOSING OF THAT AWFUL DAY,
MY REASON TO KEEP LIVING HAD SLIPPED SILENTLY AWAY.
AND ONCE A YEAR THEY TAKE ME TO THE PLACE WHERE LORRIE'S LYING.
MY HANDS WARM THE STONE ABOVE HER, FEEL SHE KNOWS I’M CRYING.
HOPE MY TEARS WILL TRICKLE DOWN AND IN THE EARTH THEY'LL FIND HER,
PRAY THAT SOON THEY'LL BRING ME TO FOREVER LIE BESIDE HER.
SO I LIE HERE IN THE DARKNESS IN MY YEARS THEY CALL DECEMBER.
I SEE LORRIE'S FACE BEFORE ME, HEAR THE LAUGHTER I REMEMBER.
FEEL THE PAIN DEEP IN MY HEART THAT NEVER GOES AWAY.
TASTE THE TEARS UPON MY FACE, DREAD THE COMING OF EACH DAY.
BUT THE DARKNESS THAT I LIE IN WILL BECOME ETERNAL DAY,
AND THE GULF THAT NOW DIVIDES US WILL MELT SILENTLY AWAY.
SOON THE DARKNESS THAT I LIE IN WILL BECOME ETERNAL DAY,
AND THE GULF THAT NOW DIVIDES US WILL MELT SILENTLY AWAY.
ELLIS CRAIG, DECEMBER 2022.
While watching my parents being mugged and killed
At age thirty-one my calling was revealed
Got bitten by a rare deadly bug
While surviving a nuclear blast so snug
In a exploding toxic waste dump
As a comic meteor from outer space bumps
Than slams down to earth in front of my face
As the Sun's solar flare burns me in place
While I constantly am being zapped gory
By strange energy from a mad scientist laboratory
Of an intention gone bad but meant to be good
This stuff can't even happen in Hollywood
Of course this little mishap is for the best
Because you now know the rest
Just give me the mask, cape, tights and ring
Now I'm doing the Super Hero Thing
Vision of a thousand eagles
Able to smell with the might of a hungry beagle
Hearing keen, good looks and clean
I can do this Super Hero Thing
Strenght, as strong as a mighty hurricane
Both weak and strong know my Super Name
Invisable if the need and super fast with super speed
Fighting crime, the evil and those with greedy greed
Save the world by saving the sexy pretty girls
There are fringe benefits saving the world
Than loving them in my known name
Super Heros know no shame
Can transform and can fly being good is my high
Using super gadgets and with super powers I thrive
Save the world daily and through the night
While keeping a secret identity is my biggest plight
As a playboy billionaire paperboy photographer
While moonlighting as a mild manner court stenographer
Sidekicks, Villans and the public at large
There need for my fame gives me a super charge
Be it Truth Justice and the American Way
Or just mindless vengeance in play
With Great Power comes Great Responsibilty
And a winning smile and dynamic personality
Still one day it must all come to an end
I must pass the cape to a younger super friend
In the comic world I will be glorified
With a TV series and Movies deal magnified
People will always remember my Super Name
I will always live through my Super Fame
But when I go I'll be just an average Joe
The world will never really know
The guy with the mask, cape, tights and ring
Who saved the world by saving the girl doing the Super Hero Thing
She and the handsome gentleman finalized the contract, and he gently placed
the antique pearl necklace into the palm of her tiny hand. As he walked away,
she fantasized about making love with him, for he possessed both charm and
exceptional good looks; he certainly was enchanting...thick, black wavy hair,grey-
green eyes...tall...muscular ~ oh, those muscles...all over his tanned body...head
to toe.
But she wondered about that limp as he walked away, depending on a heavy
metal
staff
for
balance...
after all, an eternity of beauty and power in exchange for
one
pathetic
soul.
The evening of the deed was a frigid six degrees, and there was a dead smell of
the sun. She stayed late after work, waiting anxiously until everyone had gone.
Finally, he was alone in his office, so she placed the pearl necklace around her
fragile neck and unbuttoned her red, silk blouse so to reveal her sexy red
camisole.
She entered the office, and gently leaned over him from behind; he was aroused
by the scent of her "Red Door" cologne...his favorite, and his senses were even
more heightened as he turned around and observed her erect breasts speaking
in a language only he understood. With his large hands, he slowly explored her
thighs, making his way up her black skirt.
"You have beautiful legs."
"You think so, huh?"
They kissed, and the necklace brushed his chest; he didn't feel well, at all. He
was hot...so hot, and his body began its metamorphosis, retaining a grayish
tinge....then blackish...
He
burst
into
flames;
then, disappeared along with all omens of the deed.
She walked over to the black wrought iron mirror and smiled; her wrinkles were
gone...vanished...just as promised; she was ten years younger.
The windows began sweating, and the handsome stranger appeared.
"I have one more assignment for you."
"But we made a deal, one soul."
She began to feel peculiar, and as she viewed herself in the black mirror, she
began aging...ten years...twenty...thirty...she pulled out a large clump of thin, white
hair.
The room darkened from his moonly mind.
"My dear, the other soul...is yours."
Standing reverent in a dull cast mist
glazing my cheeks while prayers were said
so silent stood at Rand's memorial
My mind dashed to the self-drawn sketch
he staged as "The Youthful Raconteur";
profile, pipe, wavy cinema legend hair -
his final role, being lowered by rope
into a eternal, earthen wall home
Flowers fell like words fall, droplets in air
completing his circle, our circle too
His "Janie" bowed, seated solitary
almost estranged by her own dreams dashed
her beauty gone long ago, buried too
As the "Wedding Cake Couple" sixty years past
right up to the very day of their marriage
which proved a confection in itself
Rand was the one who always got the girl
perky, popular, blonde, "Homecoming Queen"
They spent lifetimes contriving their image
striving for the unattainable ideal
then crashing, having to pick up the pieces,
not content, tortured by delusions
This is how my older brother's life ends
a cacophony of misadventures
He wanted to be called only Rand
not Randall and never Randy, just Rand
So then, I always called him Randy
it's what a younger brother must do
to bring one down to earth, he was up there
Chasing fate, dashing towards his destiny
daring too often, reality hits head on
His good looks, handsome physique were no match
for surging corporate expectations
while sinking, his wake tipped lots of boats
his marriage, his family in a free fall
my piddling attempts to help were futile
Truth was, I never knew his inner mind
I guess I loved him but I don't know -
was he simply the superior image
or the vulnerable suffering reality?
So he flailed through his eighty eight years
disconsolate, in debt and detached,
his affections only came in a knot
Where were Randy's spiritual benefactors?
Are we heirs of our actions, not wishes?
Can we dream but not make dreams our masters?
So what about my own selfish frailties?
I take no pride in this awful life's play
my failures were many and to think now
I lost a life so close, that I watched
for so long devolve and did so little -
will be with me forever, this my fate;
not dashing towards the ones I love most
Evermore Evermore they must settle a score,
They were shown the door and never knew the reason for
Jilted like an unwanted lover
True the audience thinks they have enough money to cover.
But still they wanted to be the silver screen siren not an average mother.
So here we watch the films they were in
Where their big scene with a scream is followed by the next of kin
Their characters were never in the book since they are casted just for their good looks.
Critics state they are trying to act
And for the most point that is an honest fact
After the day’s work, they go back wondering why they were kicked out of their sport.
It is the truth they are there to be cute
Since what really sells isn’t watching someone go through hell.
No, I must state I will pay money to see someone who I would date.
Even know in the end they end up eaten by a gigantic rat named Ben.
So here on a Sunday Morning after watching something on a Saturday Night when you did not heed that warning.
Last night’s rendezvous which was cool
When you ventured into that prohibited swimming pool.
Yes, I must say we do enjoy the feeling we get
Watching you get stabbed when you are totally wet
In lieu of flowers when you leave that shower, we just want to say we do care
When you are vulnerable and scared
Let it be known when you do not answer the phone
We are there watching over you when you are alone.
When the character enters to spell your demise
We will always know they are all telling lies
As the DVD light shines during the late hour
We know our B movie friends do still have the power
They are the reason we spend the time
Watching their film as it unwinds.
When realities social is not there due to all the things that are not fair
This modern-day relationship can due for those who are not being played as a fool.
It causes no problems for anyone and to be honest it can be kind of fun
Enjoy the images as they unspool enjoying the pictures that are more healthy stimulations then lamb stew.
Thanks for being our moving photographs of beauty
And to be honest yes, we do appreciate the nudity.
My name is Spencer Byron.
My first wife Addy died tragically in 1991.
A devotee of surprise. She was so much fun.
The breadth of love is unchartered territory.
Not all loves can be explained.
There are many aspects of love.
Today my wife's name is Amy.
She knows little of this.
She mended my tattered heart left by Addy.
A night this week in our New England hometown
in the crushing crowd leaving the show
I saw a flash and a glance by Addy
between moving heads and shoulders.
Same exquisite, classic, good looks.
Same beguiling presence of my love thirty years ago.
How could it be?
After the crash, in the morgue
I'd sent her off to eternity
with a teary kiss on her pale, sweet cheek
before they took her away.
There are many aspects of love.
Where did Addy disappear to that night?
With an old snapshot the next day,
secretly I went to the hotel near the theater
on a chance. To my surprise,
she and her sister were staying there.
Should we, could we meet?
The sister answered the hotel room door.
I explained that her sister had a haunting
resemblance to someone I'd loved thirty years before.
Then I saw her - same long thin neck, deep brown eyes,
hair up in a twist, surprise in those eyes.
When she first spoke, my heart leapt.
The urban myth is each of us has
an exact double somewhere in the world.
There are many aspects of love.
We talked timidly, as the sister went to make tea.
She leaned forward, touched my hand and said,
"Dear heart, I seem to know you somehow".
My head exploded, I was filled with infatuation
once again. Spinning, it took me over.
How quick it was. I tried not to show it.
Stumbling over rushing thoughts,
I knew to withdraw, to protect myself from me.
"Dear heart" was Addy's pet name for me!
Startled and backing away, I left my personal card.
Later, I got a handwritten note on my door.
It said, "Dear heart, I met you two years ago in Brussels.
Your name was Emile Ibsen.
You were thirty years younger then.
We made forbidden love.
Should we do it again?"
There are many aspects of love.
Colored Pencil Illustration G.Gaul 2023
She senses before she sees
The manicured nails - the elegant fingers
Holding out the hundred dollar bills - enticingly - so temptingly
A generous nights takings of busking here
In one proffered hand
She grabs at it petrified it might be an illusion
Evaporating in a puff of smoke
Fingers hold it back, teasingly
Compelling eye contact
She looks up sceptically
Dark eyes meet her aqua blues, sparking a sort of affinity
‘Eyes are the window of one’s soul’- so it is said in all sincerity
But the magnetic dark eyes of her enticer are fathomless in their intensity
His type she has encountered before - money for favours
Well she is no novice - a living after all - a girl has to make
And his generous offer rivals his devilish good looks
But she senses a darkness favouring the energy emanating
A cold shiver runs through her veins like someone just walked on her grave
Fear ripples down her spine akin to a stroking finger chilled in ice
The spell he casts foreboding
The calmness of the night has taken flight
In its haste to set the macabre scene
Mesmerising are the eyes that bore into hers
Projected thoughts furtively slip into her mind
Infiltrating it like a slithery snake
Bringing with it forbidden thoughts of desire
She falls into the inky black abyss
Succumbing to heady dark passionate conceptualization
However the chilling message is coherent
This is not a mere opportunistic one night stand
That he desires
This is more - so much more
This is taboo concupiscence unleashed
This is her life in exchange for what?
Her life for immortality?
Surely not!
Yet his eyes eloquently convey it all
The hunger so unconcealed - so transparently flagrant
To yield to darkness
Satisfying his appetite for
Death of a different nature?
Obliteration of life as she knows it to be
Tenebrous Immortality in exchange for her blood
A prelude to his finale of taking her soul
And then a metamorphosis
From Prey to Predator
Video clip -
Like a Vampire- Catrien Maxwell