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	stevehawk
	PROFIL O autorze Przyjaciele (2) Poezja (3)

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stevehawk, 2 lutego 2012

De Profundis

I hunger,

For my youth.

For those lazy,

Hazy, crazy,

Sperm-filled days.

When my eyes

Feasted with devilment,

Instead of mockery,

Upon the young

School of nymphs

That swam up

And down the corridors

Like silver darlings

Of the sea

The wonderment

Puzzlement

Of the flesh.

Memories of

Soft bouncy buttocks,

Budding breasts

Licentious legs

That tormented,

Teased, pleased

That frenzied, wild

Stirrings of my loins.

How i loved life then,

With it's silent promise

Of great things to come.

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stevehawk, 4 lutego 2012

The End

The tale of us is at an end

and now all that is left

Is a sad, slow denouement

the dance of love bereft.

All the crises have been resolved

the plot, once thick, has thinned.

Our sets dismantled, stage empty,

because we’ve reached the end.

Our love was but a fantasy

of rainbows and moonbeams,

A dream rent by reality;

loves’ seldom what it seems.

The curtain on our play has closed,

now we play other parts;

Picking up the bits and pieces

left of our shattered hearts.

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stevehawk, 4 lutego 2012

My Secret

There is a tiny angel,

Locked away

Within a cage of ribs,

Next to my heart.

She whispers to me,

Endlessly.

Sweet Endearments,

Promises,

Never to leave my side.

I ignore her.

But, she is not angry with me.

There is a tiny angel,

Locked away

Within a cage of ribs,

Next to my heart.

She sings to me,

With a voice,

Of pure sweetness and light.

I drown her,

With rivers of alcohol,

I sting her eyes,

With foul tobacco smoke.

I abuse her.

Yet, she continues her song.

There is a tiny angel,

Locked away

Within a cage of ribs,

Next to my heart.

When the nights are cold,

and dark and lonely

Sometimes, I let her out,

We look at one another.

We both smile.

But, only,

For a little while,

The briefest of time

Then I lock her away again.

She does not protest.

There is a tiny angel,

Locked away

Within a cage of ribs,

Next to my heart.

I must keep her hidden.

Never to utter her name.

For such is what life has made me.

My path already trod.

She is my secret.

And, will remain within me,

Till the end.

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Pozostałe wiersze: My Secret, The End, De Profundis,

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Poezja

De Profundis

The End

My Secret

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