Poetry

Poetry is inspired by our lives, hence, parent category to “poetry,” shall be “The Life.”

Make Me Feel Me Again

/ nicholasdaletaylor / Leave a comment

like a dark rift, scattered so long so far,

I fell, a part here a part there, like a robot

I feel apart from myself

sucking up all the light I could without knowing from whence it came

that light wasn’t good for me…

a part, apart, divided indeed, that little angel fell from the sky

and then the next, and the next and the next and the next

left and lost without feeling me.

make me feel

Your passion reminds me to be me and to be loved as I have loved me and thee.

when I listen to your voice I feel inspired to move.

would standing to dance in public be such a scene?

it tingles up and down, starting with a smile…

a flirty smile from far away

feeling like a boy who flirts with a boy before he thought it was a bad thing

just wanting you and everyone and every moment

make me feel, make me feel me again.

a choir of angels lean down to wipe clear the clouds

foggy clouds pressing down

your face lights like a sun, wish your eyes invite like open pearly gates

I see you with her and know it’s a love that love allows and it’s a very good thing…

no green eyed monster or one eyed monster makes me stray from just feeling good

feeling good when I shake from the sounds you make

making me feel me again.

just one more beat, one more note, one more vision

it’s all it will take

away from the cheap touch, launched into the sun

I feel warm again so careful you don’t get burned my lovely

it’s just me and you, make me, making you

making you feel me, making me feel you…

making me feel me again.

Sing for us you lovely angel; sing for us all.

 

Born Yesterday

/ nicholasdaletaylor / 2 Comments

When it comes to the heart,

Few men know where to start,

Let’s say you find feelings for a man on your team,

You know him to be smart, a fighter who’s sometimes mean,

Nonetheless behind his eyes though dark they may be the light shining within outweighs the obscene,

Vanished for days, whereabouts unknown to all in the round

Tirelessly you work though this forboding feeling

His being there will only thwart

The other men on your court.

Another man, you chose to fall,

Handles right, yet, not you at all,

For in his eyes maybe you are more like a brother,

Or that guy that is around, feels like I am gonna smother,

One makes it very clear how he feels in this mix, the other can’t see this outside of common quick tricks,

All in all you wear your heart out-loud alongside the sleeve

For others to see as if viewed within a pensieve

This one is a kind gentle man

Get along easy if you can.

These two men, born on this day,

Though separate, one year away,

You’ve come to love them in different ways,

Neither holds you stronger with unintended sway,

But one thing is clear, to not grow so weary, perhaps let them both go, be found a little more cheery

I know one of them likes me, if not one, then two,

Man loving man knowing not what to do,

At least, admit to yourself

Feel that which is true.

Meeting eyes hold few secrets

To those having felt this before

Unattended games yet we all know the score

And the stories told again by guys who refuse to share or admit,

Ah, I should’ve have written this days ago or maybe even a year, think how many more eyes that are queer

May land on this page to see some are with courage, not afraid,

To sling all of their feelings in the fray

(I feel you, these things I know)

I wasn’t born yesterday.

Absinthe Minded

/ nicholasdaletaylor / 2 Comments

Once entering the Heartland Cafe for a Wednesday night open mic

I realized I was early and hence pulled up a seat to the bar

Here I noticed an enchanting special which hired images of the Moulin Rouge

It was a drink I had yet to try through all of my alcoholic to do’s

Green with envy is not my script while I wait for Jack Calhoun

But I’m open to trying this tasty new thing and order a glass then two

The barkeep says “Do you want it served traditional or burnt with fire like heroin and crack?”

Then he makes a comment about Hemingway it being his favorite snack

Even though I go with “tradition” at first it’s time to break the rhyme

As we all know, not everything goes, in smooth ways all of the… nights

It’s sweet, like liquorice, leaving a warm longing stretch down my throat

It’s as if this tasty beverage became my highly welcome brand new winter coat

Making it through stand-ups, poetry slams and music bit by bit

I have my second glass, which is half-off and return to my table

Solemnly annoyed by the overly affectionate displays of the man and woman sitting in front

absinthe chicago

My first glass of absinthe, courtesy of The Heartland Cafe

Back to my drink, then watching Jack’s set, I see how life’s been for such men

And ladies, down in front, may have been through our worst

Nonetheless through good jest and lickingly good drinks, it’s easy to lift those cursed

That is, at least for fleeting moments into seemingly endless smiles

We move through curves and turns of time, aligned, as if we are guided

through grim and grinny realities and dreams of the absinthe minded

Cheers