Poems
by Stephen Prosper
ARCHAELOGY
With misplaced trust you left a ton of treasure in
this tomb
through which I might browse, carefully attempting to extrapolate
a complex, only hopefully substantial personality.
You should hear us laugh as we turn the blank, gilt-edged pages
of
your diary.
It tells more than you could know.
But, when a vacuum is gone, could anyone ever really know that
it was there to begin with?
Who remembers emptiness?
It's something like pain...abhorred by consciousness,
with no delicate threads of recollection to tie it to our learning
Nothing left but a sign..."WRONG WAY" glaring in the headlights
as we hurriedly
back away.
We don't want nothing to happen, you see...it has no yarn value.
it's a boring story that no one wants to hear.
so sad, too bad...will someone please raise their hand?
OUTTA LOVE
a sullen lyrical attempt to win your art
you come to me, feeling your way around my brain
the one that you've been seeing
found his way outside the pain
of waiting for you
his eyes are wet, his mouth is hanging open
he tunneled his way from a black cocoon,
and that was the end of his hoping for you
now he's talked himself outa love
freed himself from howling at the moon
talked himself outa love, he left you behind
his eyes are bright, and nothing clouds his mind
he talked himself outa love,
and now you've come looking, hooking for me.
You know my strings are tuned to you
you really pluck a melody on me
every note from deep inside, a vision clear and true
'cause I've been waiting for you
I care for every syllable you utter
improvise a new way every day
to scare away the dread of losing you
but now I've talked myself outa love
freed myself from looking for a way
talked myself outa love, i'm leaving you behind
even if I pine & bitch & whine
you really are the best that I could find
I'm talking myself outa love
and it's no use for you to look for me.
Every time your wallet ran a little thin
touch me for a five
you know the valve that makes my money flow the cookie jar that
holds my dough
made sure you paid your landlord
always knew your glass was full of beer
fuel the feeling that I feel inside o'you.
but now I've talked myself outa love
freed myself from shedding any tears
talked myself outa love, to leaving you behind
even though I thought you were my kind
(your ropes, they really are the kind that bind)
I'm talking myself outa love
so please don't dedicate your poetry to me.
Everybody needs someone to stroke and poke,
and tickle into laughter now and then.
You sidled close to pop a gumdrop in my mouth,
and warp my lips in a cynic's joke.
I cleared my place of friends you didn't fancy,
prowled the stalls for vegetables you like,
put the perfect spices in my sauce for you.
but now i've talked myself outa love
freed my hands from manacle and spike
talked myself outa love, finally leaving you behind
floating under salty brine
a city out of legendary time
I'm talking myself outa love
so count me out in your next crime.
[break to enthusiasm]
But won't you come to my place,
and make it smell the way that only you can
Put it right here in my face
The power and the charm as only you can
Won't you come through this lace
and see the world in focus just as I do
It might be just all right
It might be just all right for you.
[frantic, frenzied whine]
Don't let me talk myself outa love
I know I heard you maybe and you might
Can't talk myself outa love if you won't stay behind
Just put your hand in mine and pull me in
Where is it, where do you hide? ? ?
[long instrumental wail?]
[soothing, dry, quiet, distant;
long airy vowels against thick, fluid minor chords & dominant
bass]
Wavering flame breathes fragrant vapor in my room,
Calling forth a squad of gods I pray to come reform
from elemental rarity scattered through an empty womb
a new improving lover, me,
armed with bonds of power,
gifted with the sight to see
that there's no way outa love.
No place outside of you for me.
So I continue...
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