Masochistic Perceptions, Trials and Truths

These are my cyberfied cerebral synapses ricocheting off reality as I perceive it: thoughts, opinions, passions, rants, art and poetry...

Saturday, June 06, 2009

Song Written after 4 Whiskey's and 4 Bowls of Tobbaca

I draw on me pipe
watching my smoky breath escape against dusky lamp light
Reminiscing of the sweet and soft
caress of your slender neck's nape
but as the peaty embers in my wooden bowl die
I dwell upon our one greeting and one goodbye
the mist of the evening enshrouded us
as we escaped the pub that crowded us
the scent of stout upon your mouth
mine of whiskey and together we both
knew this evening was the only one
we might ever have
for we were young and free
two rovers with our rucksacks, you and me
enjoying an evening's frivolity
makin' warm affections and memories
that keep us comfortable in our descending age
It was not about sex but of poetry
the ambience of an artist's heart
vulnerable in its innocence
in an embrace destined to part
now an ember extinguished
but never gone out
a memory tender
of a long hard lived life
and thankfulness to eternity.



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