Every open door

I always sit facing the door
thousands of booths
and just as many sunsets
restaurants with bells on the door
and a cold hand that longs for the warmth of yours
I hear the bell jingle

and I always look toward the door
granted I haven’t a clue what you look like
not the faintest idea
but my heart doesn’t know that
and neither do I

each pretty girl I see
plays the part in my mental drama
I dress them in white with a veil
and I undress them too
but somehow, someway
they’re never you

can’t say that I like the waiting game
but then again, I’m the one who claims
“anything worth having is worth waiting for”
I know you will be worth the wait
but until the day I meet you
I’ll look toward every open door

Contradiction

you're my favorite of the women in my life
though you love me one day
and hate me the next
you're as beautiful to me-as the sky you reflect

you're my lover
though you caress me gently one day
and thrash me fiercely the next
you're delightfully intricate- and infinitely complex

you're my confidant
though you listen patiently one day
and interrupt me constantly the next
you're a salve for my wounds-you negate their effects

you're my favorite contradiction
though you may kill me
and take my body far from home
I can think of nothing more eloquent-than your seas forever to roam

Chelsea King

Gifts of God
corroding his frayed soul.

Acidic thoughts of forbidden bliss,
arrayed out splendidly

next to the fuchsia orchids
swaying gently in the wind.

Figure of fatal fashion,
hair swept beautifully apart

her delicate face.
Frozen forever in death’s caress.

Given to him
and taken too.

That exquisite pearl of
timeless charm.

A flash of life,
like the picture in the frame

surrounded by flowers
next to her urn.

Too soon,
far too soon.

Spring begets winter,
birth begets death.

Summer only comes to the
privileged majority.


Blind though they are
to the life within.

We are all more alive,
once we’ve been dead.

Or at least glimpsed that
archaic fiend,

scythe in one hand,
our lover in the other.

Off to the realm of shadows,
with what we just now consider most dear.

A salty rain fell on that hollow
patch of ground.

Hidden by Armani, Chanel, and Prada
clouds—

Lightning flashes of wrath
towards the one who

gave her hand—unwillingly—to him:
archaic fiend.

By Jesse Madera

Vulgar Love (a pantoum)

Never Late
This tangible desire
To satiate
My carnal fire

This tangible desire
A thing to fear
My carnal fire
It’s always here

A thing to fear
To satiate
It’s always here
Never late

Stiletto Staccato

They're as high as the sky
powerful and so full of pride
the sounds they make
and the long legged stride

I'm obsessed you see
with the sound of your gait
the stilettos shine
and the sounds they create

I think it might be
the pretty painted ten
or maybe the way
your footsteps are zen

down the hallway
I hear them come
I dare not look
I will surely succumb

but look I did
and succumb I will
but its soo worth it
for that glorious thrill

for what is man
but a admirer of you
at least that's me
with that perfect shoe

your heels pay you
its homage they give
for the privilege to reside
in the place where they live

those stems so pretty
would be nothing without
the flower at the end
and its delicious clout

I'd travel the world
kiss my momma goodbye
to reside in a place
down the street from your thigh

I'm not a creep
I swear its the truth
I don't mean to be crass
certainly not uncouth

but I lose control
when I hear the sound
of heels tapping pleasantly
on the solid ground

Poetry or Bullshit?

do not feign ignorance of what I speak
for it is you who trespasses my mind
how dare you smile so innocently
if only your face reflected the sorrow of my soul
then your potency would vanish
and up in smoke
the image would evaporate
were it not seared into my mind
then perhaps I could live
but instead I am haunted
by visions of you
I see your hair in the wind
the ocean's mist surrounds you as you gaze sweetly at the sunset
you are only a stride or two from me
yet it is an eternity away
I once caught a whiff of you
I awoke with the distinct feeling of your kiss on my lips
and yet the scent of you entranced me still
you were not there and you are not here
you reside in a place not quite real
and yet not far away
the future cannot hide you forever
a day not long from now
the kiss I feel and the scent I smell
will not evaporate with the morning
were it not so
I would surely beg dismissal from this cruel game of life

Poetry or Bullshit?

Liar
Don’t think me naïve
I know the realm in which we play

Pinocchio’s playground
Your favorite place to plot

I’m savvy to the nuances of your necromancy
Though you play the fool’s fiddle

Hoping the siren’s song
Will leave me lost at sea

Your deft fingers strumming
The guitar of guile

Seductive schemes
And subtle subterfuge

Yours is the palace of the plotting princess
Perfect in all ways—save one

Poetry or Bullshit?

sometimes I wonder at that magnificent blunder that brought you to me. Though still I may be blind I've got nothing but time and patience is mine for eternity. I'll hold out till the end for you my friend because nothing's as sad as the absence of glee. And yet may I make it clear to you my dear that my love is anything but free. It comes at a cost and love is best not lost because love is the point don't you see? So until that day comes when my affection becomes a flower wilted and weak. I'll do my best and trust God for the rest because really it was only your attention I did seek. And like a flower needs a shower I too needed that lovely hour when you would grant me a peek. A look at your beauty a glance at your grandeur and I'm lost without words to speak.

Poetry or Bullshit?

Untitled:
You’re a collection of glances
Each of them stolen
And all of them the contraband of my dreams
My imagination is no substitute for your beauty
And like the addict I’ve become
My appetite for your loveliness is no match
for the shortage I endure

You are also a passing flame
Impossible to grasp
Ever elusive,
Ever entrancing
When I close my eyes
I still see the shadow
Of your scarring beauty