Moth to a flame.

You’re a voice, a dream, that happy thought I get up with each day,
That sweet melancholy that I go to bed with every night,
I know your mine, at least for ever; maybe you want it too, that way,
Just that your heart, accepts that I’m not right?

You’re that song that I incessantly hum, like a stuck record,
My smile that has no reason, and doesn’t need one to stay,
Everything that’s beautiful in my life, the perfect halo awed,
All of that you are my love, just that we won’t ever have it our way.

The cool morning breeze on my cheek, when I’m out for a run,
Like that last cigarette, that you never want to share at any cost,
That beautiful sunset, that gorgeous rising sun,
I hate the fact, but in the end I would have lost.

It’s like this crazy game of roulette that we are playing sitting on a shelf,
My turn to roll the dice, what were the odds that I’d beat even,
The chambers are all loaded, the players, I, me and myself,
Today is my day off, and I’ll always have a tomorrow for the grievin.

I know I'm nuts, but I ain't suicidal :)

What we missed

We never danced together; didn’t even get to pick out a song to call our own,
Wished we’d shared one moonlit night, rather than spending all that time on the phone,
Will never know how it feels to just walk hand in hand,with the waves flirting around our feet,
Come to think about it, I so wanted to cook and just watch you eat.

We won’t get to pick each other up after work,
And share our day, exchanging notes, on whose boss is the bigger jerk,
No lazy Sunday afternoons, lolling together on the couch,
Won’t ever, get to bandage your finger, when you go ouch.

We did not get to travel together to a foreign land,
Nor rode a bicycle for two over the soft yellow sand,
It would have been nice, had we ever kissed in the car,
Or just looked up and stupidly tried counting every star.

We never got to play a game of scrabble, strip poker and “truth or dare”,
You won’t ever get to bring me my towel, and I won’t ever get to perm your hair,
No Easter Sunday, Diwali, Christmas, or New Year for us,
It would have been awesome had we ever taken a ride on the tube or bus.

Let’s just hope, all that we abandoned our love for, is a big hit, Because all that we missed, makes me feel, everything else will never be worth it.

Feels like everything is a-miss,

Paul Dueman.

BlueAM

It’s late, it’s one, and I’m wasted and done,
Really feeling sleepy, and a bit weepy,
My bottle is over; I could be in Dover,
Do I care, don’t know, this isn’t fair.

Darn these feelings, shit is that the ceiling?
Whoa got to get this done, thought writing a poem would be fun,
I guess the world is asleep; I’m starting to feel like a creep,
These nights do get crazy, why oh why, don’t I feel lazy?

Feeling hungry, got to eat; hope there is some meat,
Ok dinner wasn’t that cool, where is my red bull,
Let’s light up, damn is that booze in my tea cup?
No cigarettes at home, searched with a fine tooth comb.

Ok I don’t think this is right, but I just had a fight,
Stepped out for a pack, the damn vendor just did not have the tact,
Guess he was sleepy too, well you know what, boo hoo,
Ok now that I have my smoke, I’ll let that slide as a bad joke.

Let's call it day, is there no better way?
Because as long as I’m awake, thinking of you gives me a damn headache,
It’s just that it’s hard to take a nap; with all of this crap,
Miss you lots.

I did sleep like a baby that night :)

Paul.

The Last Stand – Circa 23/06/2007.

War hoof’s thunder on, drowning out the last heartbeat,
Charioteers ride out; plume’s high in victory,
Buzzards glide over scars of hurt, sadness, and screams,
Oh what a battle, a glorious win, what a story,
What sweet defeat.

A keen contest, worthy adversaries all,
Fear, Anger, Hate, took up the gauntlet to Love, Happiness, Trust,
What morale, adrenalin rush, the pulsating war drums, cries,
The crescendo, eager, straining at every crust,
Neither sides to stall.

Alliances blurred, Reason and Logic turned out in their finest, spectators both,
On the mark of the bugle, Justification switched side,
Accusation led the thrust, Patience and Kindness stood their ground,
They were there just for a while, time to bide,
What was the colour of their coat?

The first arrows flew, Doubt probingly finding its mark,
Shields of the line of Understanding, unwaveringly hold,
Torrents unyielding, the barrage vicious, unrelenting,
Sense was struck down early, Warmth lay cold,
Meanness and Pettiness took the flank, Strategy, a lethal arc.

They broke through the center, Understanding split wide open,
Half the command confused, the other keeping Doubt at bay,
Accusation moved in fast, pushing deeper, pushing Truth to its limit,
Truth begins to lose ground, unable to hold, unable to stay,
Peace lost its war cry, unspoken.

Pride took a beating, crushed into the earth, found wanting,
The height of battle, memories and promises fade,
Scorching sun, the flies, the festering wounds,
Goodness a headless wonder, the victim of Anger's blade,
The battle a lost cause, victory a task, daunting.

Love finally defeated, its crown dethroned,
The relationship raped, pillaged, mauled,
Exiled from Utopia, surrendered, broken, lost,
The victors veterans to the outcome, not awed,
A kingdom full of possibility, but never owned.

I do go overboard, at times.

Paul.