you don’t lie to the person that you love
she was carnal
and I truly adored her
I never knew the real woman
she walked on eggshells around me
why do I adore a false chimera, an avatar?
and she never tells the truth
it hurts not having her close
it would hurt worse not having her at all
and I loved her
she wasn’t here
yet I adored her
even from afar
and I desired her
wide oceans apart
to possess her
I still love her
dancing to tunes of love and hope
’tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all
this is what becomes
ashes to ashes
iron to rust to dust
love to hot lust
strong sexual fires
knowing he must
possess her always
perverted sexual possession
disgusts the right-thinking man
she spoke to him with words, he looked at her with feelings
can you just be friends with me?
was the question she asked him
since I get no choice I guess yes
are you really sure about that?
she asked, very sweetly smiling
twisting the knife a little more
he’s only a second-best friend
it’s a real shame he’s in love
even worse that it had to be her
but love has no common sense
it’s just the road to Hell
love and desire going nowhere
it wasn’t her fault it was mine, for believing every word she said
love is like a dream
honest true and fine
until it becomes a nightmare
suspicion dishonesty betrayal
booze drugs promiscuity
hurt paranoia jealousy
revenge unforgiven pain
sadness to never love again
unless until reconciliation
if you’ve ever been betrayed by the one you love, then you know it hurts
set your course by your bright guiding light
My ship was sinking
I was lost and alone
on the savage seas
inside my own mind
I could be very blind
and viciously unkind
dishonest and drinking
feeling fear and dread
then your bright light
pierced fog and gloom
shining far out to me
guiding me home
my guiding light shines
to love and to be loved is the ultimate,
but to love without being loved back is the truth.
If I said I had met both the Clintons, and that I liked him but didn’t like her, might either suggest that I lacked taste, or that I once moved in some exalted circles. Well, maybe I did both. I got used to turning left when got on the aircraft, having hotel receptionists know who I was without asking, and having bartenders mix my drink without me having to say it was a vodka martini. Fuck! just how pretentious was that?
The trappings of success are seductive, money makes life much easier than it is for the less well off, and it seems that successful men attract better looking women than do the average office drone. And, take it from me, when it comes to looking good most of what I had was clothes and charisma.
The circles I worked in, attracting top dollar, were filled with very attractive, well-dressed good looking women and men who could have had a career in Hollywood. And there was I, a product of the post-war depression that gripped England. Low calorie, vitamin deficient, crap medical care, and non existent dentistry. We were a nation of short, maladjusted, angry, troglodyte, geniuses.
Among a nation of pretty brilliant, if mal-adjusted guys, I was in the upper quartile, at the far end of the bell-curve. And that’s a hard place to live your life. In England, at the time, being the top scholar in a grammar school just got you beaten up. Ergo the smarter guys hid their lights under a bushel.
Then the worst thing imaginable happened. Valerie Nelson, the prettiest, nicest, most attractive girl in my year had an obvious crush on me. Valerie came from money, she was always suntanned in a town where the sun was always hidden behind the dirty cloud from the coke works. She holidayed in Kenya, whereas I spent a week in Whitby. She had a manicure and I bit my nails.
I’d like to say that the story had a happy ending.
I was her Quasimodo and she was my Esmeralda. There was a sexual incident. That was the first time I knew I could be dangerously violent.
It broke her heart when I walked away.
I may get over her one day. I may spend the rest of my life trying.
Paris is Burning
in her dreams were the spirits of all those she had wronged
there are ghosts in the mist
demons haunt the darkness
pale memories of loves lost
the pain of a broken heart
as the night drives us apart
friends once tenderly kissed
then dismissed as we parted
warm love became ice frost
stone demons haunt the mist
nightmares of a dark love incarnate
whatever you want from me only love and friendship can give
I learned that I can still cry
sorrow is the other face of joy
to grieve silently is to be human
lost and broken and yet I’m a man
now all this friend can say is goodbye
you were the only love I’ve ever known
dawn in New Mexico
a better time to say farewell
never kiss a witch in the moonlight
on all Hallows eve
don’t promise a witch
on a long lover’s kiss
in the bright moonlight
else you will be hers
forever and always
only a lunatic should kiss a witch