Not Tricked
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I've lost myself out here before — my tongue
regurgitated billboards off brick walls.
So do you always pause when trouble calls?
(I thought so.) Schemes get left unsung
beneath this corner where I've always hung
around as though that's where your lover sprawls.
"I shouldn't," your remorseful hand still falls
into a groove where wrong's forever young.
Not yet, but yet, some local gets the urge
to take his turn at finding out my sign
while you await someone to let you merge
back into traffic other streets combine,
though secretly we know that can't be true
since when he's done with me, I'll still have you.
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Sonnet 2
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A hundred poems in just as many days And I'll be choosing sonnets for my form. I know, don't tell me: sonnets aren't the craze. Then too, I've never catered to the norm. For now, it feels too good to be cut loose, So let these rigid lines serve as restraint. I don't intend that as some poor excuse. It's just that what this seems to be, it ain't. I'll swing back later on to get my things But otherwise I don't expect to stay, Not now that they have given me my wings. The final word I leave, I won't repeat. I gave my love and meant it yesterday. Goodbye, my friend. I'm back out on the street. |
Sonnet 1
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This wasn't how my work was meant to end: a ragged string of songs self-plagiarized, like how my chance to stay out might depend on how well I behave unsupervised. At least I'll try my best along the way to use their voice as if it were my own. One never knows which words will get to stay or like those lives which don't work out, get thrown. So heat some coffee up and grab a chair. Just don't take anything too seriously and I won't either. Really, I don't care. Mine won't seek your censure nor your praise. It's just a game, means little more to me: a hundred poems in just as many days. |
pearls 
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