the people who love me

there are people who love me
though I don’t know why
tenderly caring for me
when I cry
wiping my face
until it’s dry
they shelter me
should I utter the faintest sigh

so many people love me
it’s sometimes hard to believe
they love me right or wrong
they love me when I grieve
when I’m falling
they pull me to my feet with a heave
when I’m hurting
strong arms around me weave

why do these people love me?
that’s something I’ve never known
they love by email
Skype & phone
love that burns brighter
than the sun ever shone
I’m reassured by their love
it means I’m never alone

copyright © 2017 KPM

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personal space

do I really need to ask you again
to get out my ass while I enter my PIN?
I’m tryin’ to be kind & cut you some slack
but Jesus H, you need to step back!

you’re way too near – you gonna kiss my cheek?
or are you just some kinda freak?
ain’t nuthin’ here you need to see
so why you standin’ so close to me?

it’s too much for me to bear
your funky breath in my freshly washed hair
so listen up, cause I’m tryin’ to be nice
take a step back – in fact, do it twice

I don’t wanna get all rowdy in this place
but you’re seriously invadin’ my personal space
why you all up in my transaction?
back up bitch, or I’ll hafta take action!

copyright © 2016 KPM

personal-space

david running

if
Michelangelo’s David had been possessed
with the wherewithal
the substantial strength & sinew so needed
to raise himself from his prison of a pedestal
& run
he would have looked like you:
     pectorals pumpin’
     thigh muscles jumpin’
smilin’ & sweatin’
down the sunny street of a Sunday afternoon
without a care & certainly unaware
that a child of Aphrodite
lush of limb, yet lonely & lovelorn looked on
as your long legs
glowing/glistening
led you purposefully down a path where only
astronomers & angels are allowed

copyright © 2007-2014 KPM

david running

Aphrodite’s child

at the tender age of ten
come the attentions of the men
merry monkeys who endeavoured to appear innocent
as they praised her parents for producing
“such a beautiful child!”
& her parents – wishing not to appear too proud
responded with “she pretty, but she wild!”

bony bare-legged black boys
made her gifts of their most-prized toys
& watery-eyed white boys wistfully wished
for a way to get her alone
(they wanted no witnesses when they asked to walk her home)
moody & mesmerizing
teasing & tantalizing
fully aware that she’s everybody’s baby
neither affirmative nor negative, always a murmured “maybe”

the boy next door is on the precipice of manhood
know-it-all 19 to her tentative 13
& goddess status is no guarantee
against infallibility
fooled by flowers & flattery she falls from the pedestal
eager to believe this is love
(unable to perceive it’s merely lust)
too soon she is forlorn & forgotten
her “love” reduced to ashes & dust

the powerful patriarch plays with thoughts of slaughter
of the upstart who dared to seduce his daughter
quietly the queen mother dissuades him
using her womanly wiles to persuade him
to hunt for an Hephaestus for their errant Aphrodite:
“lest this attention make her vainglorious,
before she develops appetites notorious!
already she’s caroused in the conjugal bed –
to save her face (& ours) she must be wed!”

the peeved papa searches for a suitor well-bred & well-read,
one who’ll welcome such a treasure to his lonely bachelor’s bed
still grieving, before she can find her voice
the goddess is girded to a man not of her choice
a slovenly adoring ass, incapable of original thought
like Judas, her father sold –
like a slave, she is bought

despite her outrage at her father’s wrong
her sense of filial duty remains strong
she decides to make a go of this life
& at first she is a wonderful wife
she cooks/she cleans/she hides her gloom
a lady in company, a whore in their bedroom
of course he’s happy with his lot
but she’s not – she needs another
& so determines to take a lover

in a greasy garage with oil on the floor
she stumbles on the key to desire’s door
fully equipped with all the arrogance of youth
he’s self-important & uncouth
yet free from all taint of sin, & – blessed bonus! –
a veritable virgin
her stars are lucky (or the gods are kind)
so without examining sub or conscious mind
eyes shining, lips swollen & wet,
she decisively draws him into her net

& he is willing, & he adores her
in abject abasement he grovels before her
in his eyes a kind of madness burns
but before she knows it, the tables have turned
now she’s hypnotized/mesmerized
a body enslaved & paralyzed
a heart beating hard with love & trust
a woman laid low on the alter of lust

her adoration makes her crazy
the constant worship makes him lazy
but he’s there:
to her & for her,
a ballsy sibyl that can do no wrong
seducing her & swamping her
with love’s sensual song

she is swept away from her stupid spouse
from father & family &
the hated husband’s house
o infidel! o infamy!
poisoned by passion & pride
convinced of invincibility
as long as he’s at her side
the world is theirs, for so she arranges
then Chance erupts, & everything changes

into their interlude falls cold white snow
& he dances with a demon
in a place she dare not go
he dances while she dreams & schemes
of a way to win him back,
but the demon brings a Darkness
that forebodes a future black

thunder & lightning, all that is frightening
is passed through the end of a phone
snow surrounds, then topples
Eros from his throne
the sea rages & swells
the sacred shell doth shatter
Death rescinds love
now her life does not matter

lamenting & lost
in a tempest she is tossed
& she drinks as she cries
she screams/she shrieks/she sighs
in vain she tries to understand
why the gods have withdrawn their hands
the Muses warn she must repent
before the Parent Gods relent

doomed by love
damned by her loss
she flees Olympus
the last line is crossed
so she wanders with whispering voices in her head
capering cacophonous demi-gods
on her journey to the Dead

bleeding/bruised/broken
she wanders without will
seeking potions sweet & noxious
to render heart & body still
a tightly entwined rope
around her slender saddened neck
surely somewhere, something or someone
can put this grief in check

in her woe she is wanton
open to forces beyond her ken
so she roams, restless & reckless
lying with many men
some are nice (& some are not)
most are total shits
something better soon must beckon
so one day she simply quits

she runs/she hides
she makes a brand new home
& her eyes reveal acceptance
of a life that’s lived alone
she buries herself with Art & books
her new life is quiet & pure
to strangers passing on the street
she appears serene & sure
& other lonely souls believe she’s found a magic cure

eyes downcast or hidden
she lives this way for many years
a helpful & happy exterior
swimming in solitary tears
& she dare not admit (especially to herself)
that life & love are passing
while she dwells on this dusty shelf
then one day the gods relent at last
& send her one who obliterates the past

on a hot & hazy morning
sun shining in her eyes
the Divinity appears behind her
transported from the skies
he smiles at her, & she is bewitched
he speaks & she listens, totally transfixed
his demeanor is somehow both gentle & grand
awed & acquiescent, she allows him to claim her hand

he guides her to the garden she’d created for herself
& there he does things to her
that divests the dust from the shelf
her body is a blank book that he writes in
her mind is a fountain that he delights in
then he tells her that he loves her
his voice confident & strong
the words deliver her from the darkness
that has hidden her heart for so long

the chains have been cut
the past has been banished
the monsters of memory that hounded her have vanished
all that once hurt her he has abolished
the demons that dogged her he destroyed & demolished
the goddess has been restored
no longer afraid or alone
in the heart of the Divinity
Aphrodite’s child has found a home

copyright © 1994 -2014 KPM

Lust

trolley people

in the shadow of an old church steeple
just before it starts to rain
I stand an’ watch the trolley people
faces lined & fulla pain

tiredly they traverse the pavement
they do not look at me
ragged souls of circumstance
that others refuse to see

scarred men an’ shattered women
all ages, black an’ white
seemingly oblivious
their eyes devoid of light

they push their creakin’ trolleys
luggin’ everything they own
an’ I feel a twinge of guilt
as I dash for my cozy home

copyright © 2010-2014 KPM

trolley people

American dream

there are dark corners
of the American dream
where the eyes of citizens
have no gleam
just foreclosed houses
repossessed cars
‘n old gang-bangers
with keloid scars

there are cold spots
to the American dream
where isolated citizens
in loneliness scream
high-priced rooms
where insanity hums
‘n funerals for old folk
where no one ever comes

there are decaying bits
to the American dream
where the hopes of once-happy citizens
now curdle like rancid cream
here the rich get richer
while the poor try not to mind
‘n we all pretend not to see
the home of the brave decline

copyright © 2014 KPM

American dream

in the real world

a coffin-like claustrophobia
is suffered by the working-class
theirs is a tenuous existence
with all the fragility of glass

mortgages, rent and children
consume their every waking thought
while the endless spectre of unemployment
leaves their nerves flayed and fraught

the wealthy have no such worries
privileged are the Powers That Be
with their drivers and their yachts
and holiday homes beside the sea

armored with their art collections
and the stocks that they amass
the rich enjoy immunity
from the cares of the working class

copyright © 2010-2014 KPM

intherealworld pic

the amorous couple in the Tesco aisle

listen my children
here’s a tale to make you smile
‘bout some kids I saw
in the Metro Tesco aisle

young couple in their early 20s
out for a bit of fun
& totally oblivious
to everyone

punk rockers they were –
or maybe they were Goth
both had spiky hair & piercings
fully covered in black cloth

the girl’s hair was magenta
the boy’s a brilliant sky blue
& they gazed upon each other
with eyes that shone like dew

they stood like perfect statues
in the middle of the floor
hands clasped & lips locked
while shoppers ambled round the store

some shoppers looked upon them
with mingled scorn and disgust
but they didn’t bother me:
I rather admired their lust

it’s a natural emotion
neither dirty nor stealthy
they were happy showing their love,
so to me, that made them healthy

I paid for my purchases
pretending not to watch them kiss
hoping my face did not reveal
my envy at their bliss

as I walked up the hill alone
on my face was a wistful smile
rememberin’ my days as part of a couple
like the one in the Tesco aisle

copyright © 2009-2014 KPM

amorous couple pic

a place not here

in the chilly mists of morning
every day
reluctantly they go away
hair hangs in eyes
heads hang at half mast
steps are slow
expressions downcast

weather is no deterrent
sun or snow
quietly determined off they go
to do silent battle
with grim reality
while the clock ticks down
until the moment they’re set free

copyright © 2014 KPM

aplacenothere pic

this folder is empty

as black & empty
as the vastness of space
white & crisp
like new curtains made of lace
hard & heavy
like Sisyphus’ boulder
a fire that
continues to smoulder

strugglin’
like any animal in a trap
burnin’
like a bad dose of the clap
runnin’
like weeds grown wild
with all the confusion of
a bullied child

darkness
like a closed coal mine
you wait
like clothes dryin’ on a line
hopin’
like a woman awaiting birth
jes’ hold your head high
an’ remember what you’re worth

copyright © 2010-2014 KPM

folderisempty pic