THE ULTIMATE POETRY COLLECTION 2002
BOOK 10
CANT GET CLEAN
She scrubs her skin,
She can’t get clean,
She can’t wipe off his sweats’ sheen,
She can’t get clean;
She’ falling into a darker stream,
Cause she can’t be cleansed,
She can’t get clean.
She though he’d make her happy,
She was wrong.
She lived for the romantic and the sappy,
Got hurt and stayed in her naïve nappy.
And now as she scrubs her skin,
She can’t get clean,
She can’t wipe off his sweats’ sheen,
She can’t get clean;
She’ falling into a darker stream,
Cause she can’t be cleansed,
She can’t get clean.
He said ‘so long.’
After using her soul for his song;
Her mind he drowned,
Defeat was crowned.
Cause when she scrubs her skin,
She can’t get clean,
She can’t wipe off his sweats’ sheen,
She can’t get clean;
She’ falling into a darker stream,
Cause she can’t be cleansed,
She can’t get clean.
August 24, 2002
SHAME FACED
She looks in the mirror,
Can’t look herself in the eye;
Her lip trembles for the fear,
That there could be something inside;
She’s crying tears,
Holding
herself to heal the spear wound,
her mind creeping deeper into
darkness,
Herself she’s entombed.
August 24, 2002
VISIONS
She wonders,
As she sits alone,
Where it is,
Her dream called home.
She had chanced,
That it would be with him,
Now she knows she can’t,
He’d be tortured to be just a whim.
She sees the future,
As she steps onto the married man's’ road;
She sees a big, white house,
Him with wife and child,
All in fancy coats;
They slip into a limousine,
The camera angles and zooms into a wide screen,
It shows her alone in a back pool,
Crying on dark cotton sheets;
Wilting from the cold,
Living from his heat,
As he cruises her body,
Every day of the week,
His private pleasure, private joy,
Locked in – un-allowed to roam;
She cries so much her tears foam.
Cut to the womb,
Buried, locked inside her own tomb.
Se ponders,
As she sits alone,
Where it could now be,
Her dream called home.
Whether she had a chance,
Of getting over him;
Letting go of “I can’t”
Letting the real man in.
She sees the future,
As she steps on the masked man’s road;
She sees her own house,
Walking out with the man,
His hand sweeping down the back of her blouse;
They jump into a rather road-worn car,
And zoom to the nearest bay,
The came sweeps through their day,
A lit of laughs, frivolous play;
Then it rushes to a place,
Where they lay in warm embrace,
Feeling hot flushes,
Steaming rushes;
An act of intimacy,
Rather then disgrace,
Never in a rush to leave each other’s side,
Love abounding, her negativity floundering.
August 24, 2002
MOVING
She says to me;
There ain’t no use trying to fight.
You just give it up,
Cause they do what then want when they like;
Yeah she says,
My advice don’t fight,
You’ll see it’s not so sacred,
And you’ll avoid extra bloodshed.
Well I fully disagree with you,
I can’t be carefree like you;
So I’ll move,
You’ll
notice me gone from my groove,
As I try to loose – move.
So I’m going,
I won’t even say goodbye,
It won’t be forever,
Just until I’m swept sky high;
You all hurt me,
I can’t put up with this game,
And so I’m going away again,
And ignoring their threats of pain.
And may I say to you,
I fully disagree with your view,
I can’t be like you,
So I’ll move
You’ll notice me gone from my groove,
As I try to loose – move.
August 25, 2002
THEN AND NOW
You were so beautiful a long time ago,
But then ego trips were constantly embedded,
To more malicious waters your mind was head.
Now you don’t even notice those you drown,
Especially those who wear your heart’s crown.
You were once so beautiful a long time ago,
But then your feelings were thrown out the window.
August 25, 2002
STRING PUPPET
I’m sick and tired,
Of the pull of the strings,
He strings are cutting,
Stuffing is jutting,
I’m sick of being,
A puppet in your strings.
You make me perform a dance,
For hours on end;
The dance is fast and elaborate,
Until the shows end,
I hardly get a gasps worth of breath,
Before you again put me on stage;
This isn’t what I envisaged.
I’m sick and tired,
Of the pull of the strings,
He strings are cutting,
Stuffing is jutting,
I’m sick of being,
A puppet in your strings.
August 25, 2002
POISONED IVY
Ivy,
You’re looking so stringy;
I think it’s time we talk seriously.
You have to get away,
From those who can take light from your days,
Otherwise they’ll spring more traps,
Poison new roots,
Start new spats,
Days will keep fading away,
Until you’re worn dried up piece of ash in clay.
You have to,
Just have to,
Go –
Stay away.
Expand and grow,
Rather then be the Ivy of woe.
August 24, 2002
August 26, 2002
LIFE GAMBLER
With my life,
I constantly bet;
The bet is to go places,
I’ve never met.
Lost quite a few times,
In the room of smoke and copper dimes…
Had to go to the un-sublime,
The mould on earth’s skirt.
But now it’s a fresh bet,
Is being called;
I’m putting my number down,
Hoping to win a ticket out of town,
Which will get me out,
Of this thorny thicket.
August 26, 2002
BROWN LIT TOWN
Blue eyes, blue eyes;
Just a dream,
Star on private TV screen.
Blue eyes, blue eyes,
Never have I actually seen,
And fallen for a guy,
With the blue sheen;
No it’s brown eyes, brown eyes,
I’ve always fallen for.
Brown eyes, brown eyes,
Who has always trip-hammered on my heart’s door;
Brown eyes, brown eyes,
Oh yes I see the guys;
The brown-lit town I’ve found.
August 26, 2002
DRIVING FAR AND FAST
He’s a hoot,
Tosses his hat in the air;
“let’s get out of here.”
He says with a carefree air;
He starts up the car,
Puts the volume up louder;
Sees someone he knows,
Waves and yells “Found her!”
In a strike of lightning,
We rush past,
Aiming to drive,
Far and fast.
August 26, 2002
STEPPING UP