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Dreams Not Real (Dreams Not real)

Come-on

COME-ON

If sex is magic
(And who are we to question?)
Let us explore it

The Plan

THE PLAN

One thousand golden days
Ten thousand sparkling thoughts
Spread out here before us
At least that was the plan

Masque Balls (Republished)

MASQUE BALLS

Waking dreams, flights of fancy;
mind’s eyes bright as phantasy,
conjoined twins wax ecstatic.
Tripping lightly the old fantastic,
“To battle!” both genders cry,
as ladies, painted, bustle slyly by,
caught up in nature’s rapture,
discreetly intent on decorous capture;
while line on line of plumed hussars
– Theirs not to reason why – give forth huzzahs.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Musings on the mating game.

Magpie

MAGPIE

Passion runs
And ruins
our lives

Infuses
And refuses
In equal measure

Pirouette And Parody

PIROUETTE AND PARODY

What tawdry melodies
What over-frequented bars
What cliché-laden notes

What lustful desires
What spiteful tricks
What fearful denials

What we choose to call love
What a grotesque ballet
We turn it into

Rae

 You are invited to draw your own conclusions.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EgQisaKqcHc

 

 

Lothario

LOTHARIO

Plays out Don Juan trope
Imagining them all his
Spends his life dreaming

The slippery slope
Into desire’s abyss
And ends up screaming

Madly In Love (Repost)

MADLY IN LOVE

Her life redrawn as a comic strip … sans comedy.
No longer that dynamic duo. Batteries flat.
Bats in the belfry, robbin’ bewildered senses blind.
And … adrift might best describe it. Hooked, blind and snookered.

…..(He is the one?)

Even lying beside her, not truly here, he lies
oceans away, behind cold fronts, lines of icy bars,
biting winds, squalls of temper, hurricanes of contempt.
Comforts herself with poetry and sweet memories

…..(He is the one!)

that turn to nightmares where he’s drowning, calling her name.
Then she is there, reviving him (mouth to mouth, of course).
Waking to find him gone she recaulks her leaky fancies,
sets her sails for yet another day tacking upwind.

…..(He is the one!)

Eschewing havens, but never her hope, she soldiers on,
soiled sails reduced to tatters, she rows from pole to pole,
trawls the seven seas. Her treasure? Nowhere to be seen.
He has unfurled his true colours: the skull and crossbones.

…..(He is the gone.)

Vincent’s Brother’s Brother

VINCENT’S BROTHER’S BROTHER

Are you also one
I wonder who are unknown
Until they are gone?

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