Wednesday 8 April 2015

what if I could write good poetry???

1
what if is true
what they say
this night of subtances
sensitive as I was
only with my gay friends
they will know its my soul
this male on male gay?
or is my soul a muse
an oracle teller
that goes too far deep
inside meanings and see
so much
so empty thick skins
wearing vacant smiles
and us the most stoned
and ethilic could rise
up and talk quite like
bright witty understanding
of loneliness and sex
death libido on our blod
kisses falling on each other
overcoming spleen
nipples and lips
and when i was seeing old
known people of past sharing
time and some talks
bad dancing and tense
could see now how far
how far away we where
from each other wile
the glossy waters
still salt sea liquids
sustained many boats
and a half moon
some faces i never saw
where unfriendly before me
but i knew was just
like been in a propper boring
social dinner and the ladys
got outraged at my looks
and the fact that the man
was giving me some hash
when i was feeling the abiss
of disconnection
hands of old friends arrived
wawing dancing
holding my heart
finishing out a last party
of a strange season
this used to be my town
my home town
some times visited
lost on time
its one redemption
this harbour from which
I will always depart

2

When I get that low
I know its time
to open the door
is a door
that rest deep
Inside with me
A room keeping
my deepest secrets
folded between
a chinese silk dress
my sadness in a scent flask
a looking glass
a door
the past
the haunting past
the imposible future

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