"Maybe this Time" Free these city streets beneath calloused feet burden by concrete sky tower, tenements, speckle pigeons perched gray gutter rats dwindle from the light there's something kinda beautiful here early rise yoke yellow ball east of China town off broadway bridge buckling down The city illusive . . . no ninjas just chaotic chinese chopped into Bruce Lee videos winded chimes continue twinkle ring in dingy take-out doorway stand nursing a plastic container rice noodles, baby bok choy ribbons steam twirl upward inhale, blow, sip . . . pabulum dawn soul leaving here breaks away from insanity suicide, sexual romper room maybe this time . . . maybe this time they'll let love win between the two them thru whistle breeze across the bayou of Antee's youth made of sugar tea, liquor lemonade and women so free you'll find the love in your food scenting she love to taste colors that of the moon some blood red some sunny some blue; blue as your mood some black green tornado swirl pink like tomorrow's promise to you love the sound of hard pluck mahogany guitar biting bits raw honey off black berry lips kissing into broken french conjure up dance in audubon beds of foxglove flowers late noon to swinging string Freeing at hem of pinafore; flirting peek of brown sweet thigh chasing after the moon in the Louisiana sky... maybe this time maybe this time she'll let love in Just maybe ... this time she'll let this love win © 2012 Lepadah
Atlantalockheart
 1600
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Maybe this time...
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OTHER POEMS WRITTEN BY Atlantalockheart
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Maybe this time..."Maybe this Time" Free these city streets beneath calloused feet burden by concrete sky tower, tenements, speckle pigeons perched gray gutter rats dwindle from the light there's something kinda beautiful here early rise yoke yellow ball east of China town off broadway bridge buckling down The city illusive . . . no ninjas just chaotic chinese chopped into Bruce Lee videos winded chimes continue twinkle ring in dingy take-out doorway stand nursing a plastic container rice noodles, baby bok choy ribbons steam twirl upward inhale, blow, sip . . . pabulum dawn soul leaving here breaks away from insanity suicide, sexual romper room maybe this time . . . maybe this time they'll let love win between the two them thru whistle breeze across the bayou of Antee's youth made of sugar tea, liquor lemonade and women so free you'll find the love in your food scenting she love to taste colors that of the moon some blood red some sunny some blue; blue as your mood some black green to... |
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