| When
a Woman Cries
Stars move, thunder clashes over the Earth,
There are things that just aren’t the same,
That’s when a woman cries.
There must be, more to life than sin,
There is something very serious,
When a woman cries.
Stars move, The tide thrashes amongst the coastal shoreline,
And you’ve heard it all before,
When a woman cries.
Listen, there is nothing more serious,
When you notice she’s not the same,
And all that you say and do,
Makes her cry.
When a woman cries, take time to comfort her,
When she cries.
When a woman cries, it’s not her it’s you,
That’s when she cries.
Everyday and every second, the mind becomes a thrill,
To dream a dream of her, to hold her in your arms.
There are things to be said, when she looks upon your
face in fulfilled silence,
A lay of soft skin brushed against gives a man a
reason to fall.
She never said she’d stay, you never heard a word,
It’s just a kiss and then the periless is gone.
To some other lively milieu, return or no return.
This is just another tale of a poet’s scorn,
An existed recurrence that sits behind your eyes,
You never miss her ‘til she’s gone away,
And then there’s nothing that you can do.
Without words just memory derision.
Quote: "My heart was broken a long time ago, but it serves me still."
Matthew 6:34 reads: "Never be anxious about the next day, for the
next day will have its own anxieties. Sufficient for each day is its
own badness."
Catch 22
If you catch my woman with another man,
Keep it a secret as long as you can.
If you catch my woman flirting with another man,
Don’t tell me even if you can.
You must know that I couldn’t stand the pain,
If someone mentioned it nothing would be the same.
I hope you never catch her with another man,
But if you do please understand.
It took a summer to get her name,
After all she is what keeps me sane.
If you catch my woman doing something with another man,
Please….I can’t take another hit even if you can.
untitled
She walked by with a glaze of intention,
To deceive his senses with her alluring scents.
And they brushed against while passing by,
To tangents unknown, to just see what the hour prescribed.
His heart skipped a beat as she waited for assurance
of her long, thought-out future,
of peace and security, reigned by romance and respect.
Intertwined in lust for seconds prolonged in intense
aspects,
With the day’s breath fashionable to withstand
the high residue of zeal,
The effigy of the forgotten goes on.
He tastes the wind with the words to deal the heat,
Without a wavering quake to send the ease to die out,
Fluidly flirting with the air she symbolizes her intent,
Carefully executing what has been left cold for months
without comfort.
He assures discreetly with his eyes.
A sigh of relief for this moment, she signals the opening.
As he tastes her waves of movements he issues a request,
Staring deeply with his soothing eyes a minute to haste,
Quickly she confines jestingly her enticing desire,
kindness displays.
To go off together with questions aspire enabling the
heart to listen again,
For the declaration in chivalry he illuminated amongst
her dying need,
They dine close in the noon of the rest with everything
to say.
As it where when love is what we need.
-Morphine Vicious
My Secret Place
There’s a secret place I’d like to go,
Everyone is there but they don’t have a face,
You couldn’t expect it, for it is far away,
Inside my mind there is horrid anxiety,
Insomnia, visions of Gomorrah, Sheol in the heat,
And hypocrisy,
If you want to come, you can never leave,
There’s no turning back, the risk is too high,
Where there’s pain there’s surely pictures of women,
Those that twist the pictures into objects that shouldn’t be.
In my secret place,
There are lies, dreams, spills of blood, romantic moments,
And a cold arena of no colored pictures,
A museum of horrors if you will,
So you see,
The warpath of women,
The desolated wasteland they leave inside,
There is no repair,
For the despair caused it stays.
In my secret place,
There is silence sometimes,
And then there’s the blues,
For the sadden dreams,
That get no break from within,
What women say, they don’t do,
They’ll make you cry inside,
When no one gives,
So that the pain roots and grows,
And you’re left with psychosomatic problems.
I told you before,
There’s no turning back,
Cause where there’s a broken heart,
There’s a secret place.
-Morphine Vicious
Candlelit Night
It starts again, the wind picks up and the clouds scatter,
The night shadows fall amongst the woman of wonders:
The thoughts of many and the feelings set the actions
afloat,
On top of this she is noticed, not since the years has
passed.
Forgotten but not lost in the denial circle of romance,
It is to be in love to live another day, kissing the
waves of genteel,
She left the open wounds taking in contact by others,
Without consent to know what is to become, the love.
Lost in disillusion along cold injustice fallacy,
To remember her face so soft like the watch of a calm sunset of colours,
Her voice lives to tell a story, enticing those desires before,
Smiling to the beat of my heart that keeps her blush so smooth,
Like the caresses under the candlelit, fire in its
place.
To glaze upon her eyes so sweet and tender,
Laying aside feeding the intent to kiss,
Why must my heart open so wide?
As it has happened ago, will we stay aside?
Easing all the wind blows uncovering pain to convert into amazement,
The final kiss will attempt to change it all,
Will we stay aside under the candlelit, while the fire is in its place?
-Morphine Vicious
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