| by 
        Larry Jaffe
 Somewhen my eyes turn  to tears   Somewhen  I beat the burning bush 
       into submission    Somewhen  I hold your hand half pardoned  half burned   Somewhen my eyes turn  to ash   Somewhen I kiss wounds and beg forgiveness   Somewhen my fingers falter at your gown   Somewhen  you are no longer  a ghost   Somewhen  we love so hard  and turn to diamond     by 
        Larry Jaffe
 
 On this sea Feet are shorter Planted in  Nefarious hours Minutes and seconds I drop from one moment To the next bits of past Mixed with future  Confuse me.   I tread water watching  
   by 
        Larry Jaffe
 
 If I could write a love 
        poem it would never mention 
        the words love, like, adore, etcetera.   It would not have poorly 
       hyphenated words nor resort to curse, cliché 
        or flattery.    Nor would I use slang or 
        simile.   My love would not mention 
       any of any variety of body 
        parts or even talk about you 
       in terms of earth quakes, 
       sunsets or other metaphor.   I would not use expressions like little death to describe 
       our passions that in my 
        universe are bigger than life.   No, I would simply comment 
       on the smile I have yet 
        to see  and the mystery of a pounding heart.     by 
        Larry Jaffe
 No one will know  Or understand this pain Of swallowing German thorns Slicing dentures Catastrophe at your feet Toes broken Gagging on the smell Of dismembered soul   Transportation convex Shoehorned into a tapestry Of ennobled fascism.   Mengele rings the bell And all salivate   Tiny rivers of pain transcend 
        one universe  gallantly leading to another Arms swing in n defacto 
        staccato No alights No one elights This prison of shame Eyes, a cacophony of pleading No one escapes the shame No one   Hands reach for silent 
        crucifix We all pray We all prey   Down the outsides Where relief waits Down intestinal fortitudes Where relief lies Drunken talisman  Plays the tune of disaffection lollipops suckle the human 
        heart   suffering in tiny crucible 
        of humanity I pray that the suffering 
        I do today Will lead to happiness 
        and joy tomorrow.   My heart broken in triangles 
       Served readily to fiends 
        of family Wealth enjoys only one 
        enclave Drunk on the fisher boatman’s 
        song 
    Editor's 
        Note: As always, amazing...thank 
        you!! |