JoeG23 - Archived Blog Posts

[joeG23]

Quietly, he studies the form. Mind tuned
In to the minutiae of the race
Track. Unhurried and half-aware of my
Furtive glances, he exudes quiet
Confidence and half returns a smile of
Recognition. There communication
Ends. Sitting in parallel, like the lines
Our train rides home, I watch and admire, as
Much as I dare, from the corner of my
Eye. Investing my imaginary
Ritual of courtship in the twist of
His foot, the cut of his denim jeans and
The thought of what they lead to outside my
Frustratingly peripheral vision.

 

[joeG23]

There stands Desire on its uneasy legs,
Searching an unfulfilling state of complete
Surrender, but never knowing what uneasy
Truth lies beyond the consummation.
Its empty stare looks out beyond the limits
Of our transitory world, assimilating
The void as best it can before reflecting
Inwardly once more, exploring the inner
Crevice of a mind entrapped by random
Thoughts and caught in a web of unruly
Chemical networks we call a brain.
A lustful itch tugs, insistently, and
Tempts straying fingers to tap out
Morse’s triple beats of alarm...
Dot. Dot. Dot,
Dash. Dash. Dash.
Dot. Dot. Dot.
It cannot be subdued or overwhelmed
By the white noise of so-called normal life,
Unwelcome it may be, but rejection
Only hardens its heart, and it remains, insisting on
Acknowledgement and understanding and relief.
With the capacity to make Judases of us all,
It demands one little kiss and then one
More. And beyond the betrayal, what lies there?
What curse will fall? What destruction
Will ensue, consuming everything?
And should we care? In a life of
Transitory moments what should
We expect? And how do we reconcile
Our rights and wrongs? Desire sits awhile
But does not rest, and as we dance and flirt
And smile our reassuring smiles, we step
Into the dark, ever hopeful that the ground we find
Will hold, but suspecting each new step
Will send us headlong into the abyss.

 

[joeG23]

Your accidental beauty makes its mark
Staining my day. Unknowingly to you
I yield to your hypnotic power, held
By an invisible force in your sphere
Of influence. Lacoste, the label on
Your manly chest, reveals the presence of
Your power animal, a shamanic
Crocodile, mouth open and ready to
Pounce. You, yourself, remain aloof, blind and
Immune to your inner potency, lost
In the sound-world of your music, looking
For all the world like one without a care.
Strategically I place myself close by,
But not too near, and slyly dream of love.