Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

1912 S. Orange Avenue

Long lingering kiss under the lights,
your eyes, eternal echoes of your soul,
the bass, bouncing around the room as you balance your head on my shoulder,
beautiful,
this night is so beautiful,
until it isn’t.

I don’t want to talk about that.
I want to stay under the soft lights,
that get softer as the seconds slip away,
with you, ethereal in my arms,
lovers under the Orlando sun, that seemed to find its way into the walls of this wonderland.

The sunlight isn’t alone.
There are so many things that try to break down these walls,
so many that want to see you,
because you are beautiful,
and my lover,
that is a dangerous thing to be in a world like this.

Won’t you stay with me?
You were always my dream come true.
Lovely, pretty, New York City boy who got lost in my love,
and here you are,
always in my arms,
decorated in death,
because they just couldn’t wait.

I think we’ll always be together.
I think you’ve been the kind of lover that I waited a life time for,
and I can’t let go of your hand,
no matter how many hands grab my body and drag me from the lights.
I can still feel the welcome weight of your head against my shoulder.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

It’s All Well And Good To Post A Poem On Remembrance Day, But…

Can we remember,
if we make the same mistakes,
as if they are new?

Can they be honoured,
if we walk dusty, dark paths,
without recalling?

Can we remember,
if the past plays out the same,
the second time round?

Can they be honoured,
if they sleep on violent streets,
that never learned peace?

Can we remember,
if life goes on, after war,
when the parade stops?

Can they be honoured,
if we only give a damn,
once or twice a year?