Timing Is Everything

It’s funny how time has dimmed the reality of what once was

Sad that I will never see him again

Perhaps even more sad that I can never see you again

From the first moment I laid eyes on you, you were ‘The One’

Why did it end?

Youth

So, perhaps now, he is right on schedule

Correct in his wishes to wait

And to remind me, that timing IS everything

Gustav Klimt – Hygieia

Tell me you love me and I won’t object

I won’t think it funny when I awake at dawn to find you gone

I’ll just get on with my day

Until the next

When you’re back

And I know what you want

And you know I can give it to you as you like

And you know not to ask for more

So that when it is over and our days have ended

I can move on to him

And believe his empty promises

And when he says, ‘I love you’

I know what he wants

Gustav Klimt – Pallas Athena

He leans over judgement

And stands with the smirk

Of thinking he knows more than he does

Spits whispered conclusion from the corner of his clean cut face

“Yea, she’s worth about a penny and a half.”

But, she knows truth, ’cause she knows herself

“Scratch the surface of this cent!”

She dares the beautiful facade of man

The priceless gold that lies just beneath old hurt shines from those eyes of hers

And he’s afraid

‘Cause behind his silver dollar face

Old brown copper rusting away

And he knows how copper looks

Next to gold

– Alyssum Root

Longing

Gustav Klimt – Country House by the Attersee

Come to me in my dreams,

For then by day I shall be well again.

For then, the night will more than pay the hopeless longing of the day.

Come, as thou camst a thousand times, and smile on thy new world.

And be as kind to others as to me.

Or, as thou never camst in sooth, come now, or let me dream it truth.

And part my hair and kiss my brow,

And say my love, why sufferest thou?

Come to me in my dream

And then by day, I shall be well again.

For then, the night will more than pay, the hopeless longing of the day.

– Matthew Arnold

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why…

I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.
– Edna St. Vincent Millay

Why Do I Drink?

So that I can write poetry

Sometimes when it’s all spun out

And all that is ugly recedes into a deep sleep

There is an awakening

And all that remains is true

As the body is ravaged

The spirit grows stronger

Forgive me Father

For I know what I do

I want to hear the last poem

Of the last poet

– James Douglas Morrison