Johannes Punkt’s Flaskpost

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Tag: love poem

Love Song/Weathervane

You kissed me. Bad aim.
Kissed me quite insane.
I won’t be the same.

I know how your fame
Tastes now, and your pain:
You kissed me. Bad aim.

She told me you came
Down like monsoon rain:
“I won’t be the same,”

Play your stupid game,
Crooked little vein.
You kissed me. Bad aim.

So now you’ll be tame?
So now you’ll refrain?
“I won’t be the same”?

So whose goddamn name
Shall I take in vain?
You kissed me. Bad aim.
I won’t be the same.

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22-nov-2017

I’m only allowed
to say that I love you in
dependent clauses.

Another Villanelle

It’s fair to say I know a thing or two
about the art of leaving something good.
However, I would like to stay with you.

I may not be deserving, sweet, or true
but with me you’d be unmisunderstood.
It’s fair to say I know a thing or two

about the bitten hand. And I may woo —
I too have stooped to doing what I could,
however I would like, to stay with you.

It won’t redeem my soul, that benthic blue
ifreet, for never knowing what it should.
It’s fair to say. I know a thing or two

about the wish economy though, too;
I’ll spend the night that I saved up. I would,
however, I would. Like, to stay with you

is sweeter than a world-engirdled view.
So of this hollowness, pariahhood,
it’s fair to say I know a thing or two.
However, I would like to stay with you.

~

Another exercise in making the same words mean different things. With the help of Richard Kirby on the refrain.

Self (poem)

Stand in front of the mirror.
Keep telling yourself that you’re real.

— Disparition, Song for the Other Side

I am sorry that I
close my eyes
in all my
pictures to you. The
thing is, I
am standing in
front of the mirror
saying I’m a
person I’m a
person I’m a
person and I
don’t know what will
happen first:
either I believe
it or it
comes to lose
all meaning.

Digitalis

My love is not easy. What love is?
You ask me what love is. What love is
is whatever eating foxglove is.

Love Poem 09-sep-2015

09-sep-2015

I am brushing my lips against
        the rough spots
    on your soles; I
am shaving your head; the day
        when I have kissed
    every square inch of your skin
will pass us by unacknowledged.