Tucked away
right at the back
of my husband’s bedside cabinet
lies a brown leather wallet
The money is long gone
but to him it contains
something far more precious ...
My business card
from Radio Lollipop
a charity we were involved with
I turn the dog eared card over
and smile
written in faded blue biro
is my old phone number
This tiny little card
resulted in our first date
and eventual marriage
I have a lump in my throat
knowing he has kept it
for so many years
It seems my well of ink runs dry
With pen in hand, I want to cry
This war on words I seem to rage
When once flowed liquid words to page
Advance, advance I call to fore
To rival canon’s mighty roar
Yet, with my hand in solemn vow
I cannot find the words somehow
I pray for rescue from this pain
This prison held by tyrant’s reign
I know my muse, a shining knight
Will come to end this dreadful plight
And then, oh then will feelings flow
With every Synonym I know
With every Rhyme and Sonnet’s grace
To end this lonesome paper chase
LET ME HAVE THAT FIRST
Before you I should have one thing,
I know you knew what is that thing,
Clearly is true your the most beautiful thing,
But without it first your yet not completed thing,
Let Me Have it First.
You like blue just take even pink,
Brand new I can get it too quick,
Louis , D&G ,Gucci dress,
But the thing you suppose to knew I have to paper chase,
Let Me have that First.
Up on hill view house full of grass,?
That kinda cool now check this,
Before we break the rule let's have dinner on jet,
But that to be fully full I need to get that first,
Let me Have that First.
Gold scattered on the temple steps
its metamorphosis of wealth
disdained in greed a saviors poverty
coins for a foreclosure of faith
dirt to wash clean the hands of the godless
Each inferior tier of society
upon the holy ground pay their due
obligation to a crown of jewels
but wear a cross of thorns
Knotted whip beat the scoundrels
from their spiritual tariff
for the flip of a coin
bartered such a messiahs scourge
raised to anger against the thieves of the word
And golden lay strewn on the tabernacle floors
but to iron nailed their flesh to wood
a torture to flush the filth
from out the fathers house
By the sinners debt to poverty stricken
and in open mouth by vile poison are fed
for such evil to conceive
and in such evil tread
the money changers purchase on the gates of heaven
To the Mornings Star bidden
these chameleons of the paper chase
welcome the plutocratic suffocation
to deny all in abundance the love of God
There was a woman named Greed
Insidious intentions to conquer
Accumulation of funds
Paper chase, multiple runs
No mercy for the poor that plead
We ran through shy-scraper's maze
Amazed at how they set our pace
Trapped by lack of space
We butted heads through small door frames
All part of our frantic paper chase to escape the rat race
One day we'd run this concrete jungle
Yet upon broken bricks and faulty foundations we stumbled, tripped and fell cause we couldn't spell
Expanding vocabulary was involuntary still we had a lot to say
School was hell
Conforming to the norms of uniforms made us look socially uninformed
So we let our shirts hang
And awaited applause
Moved by the prospect of popularity, propelled by our passion for pathetic glory we rose above assembly filled mornings
When failure crashed with brutal force
We were not sorry
Instead - we subjected ourselves to brand new curriculums
'Lokshin Management Module 1'
The jungle was won
By those whose books we burned
They tried to teach us how to learn
They run the concrete jungle
Now we wish we could be there
Too bad they don't wanna share...
Pieces of People
Walking through my life I spy, a lonesome paper in the mud
I stare at it wonder why, litter, anybody could
Pick it up, later to bin, carry on my stroll
There before me see again, on wind another roll
Now I’ve two and I move on, and soon I see a third
Again I wonder why its done, it all seems so absurd
A fourth, a, fifth, a sixth I find, I think there’s purpose here
But can’t imagine in my mind, the why remains unclear
Soon so many in my hand, ridiculous it seems
To drop these pieces o’er the land and ruin all the scenes
And then I stop a moment, think, is more to this than meets the eye
And see, though blurry is the ink, on each a word is written wry
At last I thought is time to read and pieces when together sown
Said, come to me for there’s no need, for us to walk this Earth alone
I see the pieces, they are strewn, I gather them, pick up my pace
Will loneliness depart me soon and end the endless paper chase?
R D Seal 9 March 13
papered dipstick of today's measure
will words be too acidic or too base
budding our tongues to sour or pleasure
a tinge of breath exhaled paper chase
our empathy in hues of blues, our anger
bright crimson of hot-blooded emotion
hypothalamic firings line up with danger
counterbalancing truer feelings of devotion
emotions of one or all together as a whole
governed by what lies deep in our brains
unable for our free will to take control
so logically, we're helpless to abstain
both in-the-pink and pie-in-the-blue-skies
measure of our civility, as always, applies
© Goode Guy 2011-11-04
Are there any human stories left
To set the fires in our heart
Have we walked across the coals
In faith
Or turned the cinders of our weeping
Into blood
And they said that man is sleeping
Beneath the imprisoned eyelash of a woman
And we had nothing left to share
We had nothing left to dare
As if we were buried beneath her tears
Of misunderstood
Was it those tactile fingertips
Told us there was so much more than this
A coloured voodoo, and if you do
And only if you will to
Could you
Reach between their touch
And break the salted seal; of a kiss
And less would be the life we lead and all we need
Would be
Far too much
So you follow in the paper chase
The tatter and the fritter in a life of waste
Battering at the sinew
Of some illusive intoxication spelled out in all the syllables of
L .
O.
V.
E …
It’s not that you don’t have the time to dream
But all our dreams are filled with pain
Beneath the presence of almighty God
Have we ever stopped to question what
And why
We all live in fear so much
Driven by the concocted spell
Of life’s never ending death
Death,
An awakening approach,
Destructive constant, obstructive refluence,
Refractory parallax or pantomorphic assistive,
A paper chase, paragenesis phallic worship.
Stark, new,
fresh, sheets
-toilet paper.
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