the poetry knook :: the poetry of stephen m. james :: indianapolis, indiana » mystery

Keep asking cause you’ve smbitten me.

Stephen M. James — Mon, 30 Nov -0001 00:00:00 +0000

If they were secure as me, they’d be free laughing hysterically underneath the foldout bed here with me,
Crazy thing, finding the perfect between extremes:
listens / disappears / won’t shut up / “Yes we know you’re here.”

How many sucker souls daily get seduced by your curiosity?
Tell me and keep asking, too, ’cause you’ve smbitten me.
Could I love this way? Is your interest real?
Yeah, but
could I get over the jealousy
of your interest–in all the other Mr. Mysterys?

Me, a renegade artist?

Stephen M. James — Mon, 30 Nov -0001 00:00:00 +0000

Me, a renegade artist?
Swinging into a life, letting go?
Only seeing crying in my mind’s eye,
justifying pain with self-denial.
Late nights, passion, mystery,
gone for you?
Tell me, who is me–no, should be?
Before I am who I am enduringly.

Hide you may

Stephen M. James — Mon, 30 Nov -0001 00:00:00 +0000

Hide you may. I will seek you out.
I will strive to hold my hands on your back
And keep my thoughts above neck
Hide yourself and make me run longer
Let me know the inner you
Before I know the outer you.
I want you to be modest not just to others
But the one you love, me.
I get a charge from the unknown.
Don’t you? The mystery of what might be. . .
It won’t matter because we know
The Truth evident in us, our images of God.