I love you and want you,
though I'm so imperfect
in every way imaginable,
except that I'm a perfect
shit magnet of high density,
but won't know much about
that part of our relationship
until you get close enough
to smell and taste constantly,
though by then it'll be too late
to revoke mutual glad ownership
of that fragrant and tasty pile
we describe as happiness sublime.
|Love's Fallen Hero
Life is not enough to live,
when dreams dwell in melancholy meadows
where falling shadows embrace fallen heroes,
and tears in their tide sweep not your face
from the beach of a heart parched by empty moments,
and love lingers for reasons that ever evade capture;
scorched by the sun of your peerless beauty.
|Latest "indites" on this page, first.|
|in-dites. 1. To write; compose. 2. To set down in writing.|
|They sting when they hit you, but sometimes make you laugh, too.|
|Now hear this!|
|My cup runneth amock.|
|MOST RECENTLY UPDATED PAGE=>|
|The most recent entries
are posted here before being installed on their permanent page.
Signs of life are gone.
Empty pages to the wind anon;
racing to the edge of dawn
the night erases.
Moving slowly to the door;
leaving countless rages;
gone to dreams in cages
|These are all destined for
the "DARLINGS" page.
If only I could see that face
across the sparsely appointed white room
in the warmth of the bay window's bright
sunlight with these well wrung eyes, and
not through the strained emptinesses
of a dessicated heart and psyche's ashes,
I would paint a blinding pale pastel
portrait of your wordless beauty
that could only be heard as music.
|--No Punctuation or Mercy Desired--
I'm sorry you don't even
have time for me anymore
since I fogged up your Crystal watch
and stepped on your gilded nose lily
with my unruly creative crumminess
which made me smell so expletively bad
I have to take a shower in hot tears daily
just to get out of bed smiling insanely and
not too angry to survive two pieces of burnt toast
and please don't stop hurting me real hard
because my skin depends on it every day
Your vacant eyes rend my heart
as discordant wailings pierce
the night of unfinished pages
with dreams of mournful song
only your pallid ears can hear
O desperate dame of darkness.
|THIS PAGE UPDATED:
|Ain't Love Grand?|
|For You So Long
I want to stick me,
you know what I mean?
Here comes the pain;
it knows my name,
and stays too patiently yearning
to wait for you so long.
|Indites of R.L.Tegner|
|Indites of R.L.Tegner|
|This site is dedicated to
the woman who tempered my heart
and left it on life's beaches to cool.