Maybe the encore will save us

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

Slow, steady female lead holds her note (and me),
baring her soul and troubled she’s paring too much skin
the concert pilgrim cries, “Can’t remember when or where, but I know I wasn’t lost last time,”
should have worn more deodorant though it’s not as strong as your drink or theirs, the iconic chorus words:
Ahh, now I feel peace–they
tell me to pick up my mat and walk–but where?

Tickle ivories, tickle tears, get drunk on the non-words, the non-rational, the misunderstood–could God do any better? Is this what He did?
tense like sex, but the clean up’s less,
yeah, it’s a mess, and so are these lives–floundering in (y)our words:
the amp wind rattles the couples and the hardwood,
the 40′s and the 20′s wiggle in this human concoction breathing your wine song,
I
pull away like a closing art house movie:
the soundtrack fades in, the unknown actors fade out, the credits roll in, and the patrons yell out:
“What does it mean?!”

it’s funny what puts down the PDAs and pent up phobias,
some say it’s best to minister to those with a beer in hand,
you sting them to sleep with your microphone
as they float–over the rhine.

I smell of woman

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

I smell of woman; skin lingers on the tongue,
Dry mouth, wet lips, and thoughts loiter on.
Scared, lost in hair and night;
Found in arms, tense and tight.
Driven to reveal the hidden
Tracing curves with light tips–smitten!
Need I apologize to the girl I might know
And this girl’s groom as he screams “No!”
Before this darkness binds us.
our conscious finds us as
We fall down.

God, please forget.
All like a dream now?
Except the regret.

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

Maybe the encore will save us

I smell of woman