Towards Sin

Nothing else but this… deliver me.

as earnest as the moon
upon the sky, I
deliver you from my
innermost thoughts unto
this red carpeted paper
fitted with words to enhance
what I try so hard
to create with these hands:
upon your cheek, behind
your hair, imagining
each tousled inch as
the sun upon the horizon,
as sky and moon
upon its shoulder–
of everything that I
can be within the parameters
of your distinct vision,
I shall always want to
touch you even from a distance
(hoping miles collapses into
inches) it is your nearness
I am always wanting, as
though (you are) sin itself
to be delivered towards

-mr gahon 11/15/14


My jealousy… I didn’t know I would be capable of such jealousy until I met you. Wide eyes whose opulent light outshines even my own strived-for kindness. No doubt, there is an attraction… I just find my intentions misplaced most times lately.

forgive me my jealousies,
pardon my every attempt
to examine your thread marks,
trace your origins from
the evening last; forgive
me this paranoia, this
ever relentless consumption
to know where you’ve been,
who you’ve been with– I
don’t know any better how
to love, how to love you
any better…

© mr gahon 11/18/14

At the Cemetery

We part ways for one reason or another. Arguments, the potential destruction of a relationship… do we choose to survive or sink with the burden, the heft of its anchor drowning us further down? Which is the better choice and would it make me a coward having chosen the way that I’ve done, surviving us and writing about it?

we meet at the cemetery,
no lights but our own shadows
guide us to our graves.
i am faced with mortality
each time i dig my nails
upon this earth,
how weeds are temporary
as the next rose, as you
and I underneath the sky
without nearly a smear
of sunscreen;
and so we die restlessly
from one another only
to be reborn again and again
into yesterday’s mistakes
and blameless heartbreaks–
i shall keep running even
when you choose your own death,
i’ll climb over the gates, straight
ahead, I won’t be looking back

© mr gahon 11/12/14

Shy at First Sight

At some point, we become shy beyond belief. Coyness is nice or so the song says, but under the circumstances we find ourselves frozen and unable to move. To carry out this one brave task of unveiling our true feelings isn’t as easy sometimes. Perhaps, it is all about timing.

the breeze often makes me shiver…
the distance is an ocean between
you and me; the harried walk,
exhaustion suffused in this air
that imprisons me as I inhale;
I want to vomit, digesting the
thought of this silent omission
(from your life), muted as though
I was a button underneath your
finger to press at your convenience–
I am wanting you in a way I never have,
could I ever even conceive of it, to
stand next to you, disintegrating
the way that I do?

© mr gahon 11/4/14

The Poem Inside

What lies inside each one of us is the potential for love. With that love coincides the potential for expression, for poetry and love. Halloween is approaching and I’m thinking about love. It’s terrifying either way… to have and have not love. The important thing is breath, that we take in that fire and exhale like nothing else matters.

love, an aperitif;
so much so that my
tongue swells– how
much more I yearn for
each taste of sound
in and around your sudden
verse and reprimand; I
long for your vision,
what eternity must mean
if we both agreed to it,
from sunset to sundown;
I want that worried
soliloquy in your head
so I may wrap this cape
around you, escape
this life’s unworthy lament
and live like crusaders,
desire one another
like no other…
on horseback with swords,
none but silence (or at least)
just the memory
of these words

© mr gahon 10/29/14

I need you

How much do we need one another on this earth? Or if ever…. Mere metaphors to bring us back to the origins or to those spontaneous clues that made us fall in love in the first place. The breathlessness, the meaningless embrace that means the world to one. The warmth of rain on a cold day. The worthy inspiration even if it is just for a second which spells hours on end in our minds. Until we write it down, it never fully empties us.

uncanny indentations
sacred spaces to wander
in through this maze,
elaborate as your heart–
am I golden enough to behold
such a sight? am I dreaming
in color so as to match
the hue that is you?
how my heart easily
can combust into frightening
pain… the worried abstinence,
the crying rain. shadows
that overturn night (as I will it
inside my brain)… if at all
to restore a vision of morning
for you are my Sun and I am
the rest of your day on which
to shine upon…
I need you

© mr gahon 10/21/14

The Final Run

There’s a scene I’m investigating in my head. Someone bolting out the door and making a run for it. A home built with someone for many years and they decide to surrender. What makes it unbearable? What makes it worth losing it all? Have they become so scared that they just make a run for it? I don’t know the million reasons. Maybe shame or maybe impatience comes to play and the only reasonable act is the disappearing route. No wordy explanations. It just sucks to think about the long unimaginable void, all the million questions asked… “why?”, “why exactly?”

i’m sorry
i can’t cry,
serve my guilt
upon a silver platter
for you to feast
what’s left of my
dignity; in retrospect,
would i have it any
different, disintegrated–
shoestrings tied once, i
finally came undone.
couldn’t hold it together,
neither for you nor
this final run

© mr gahon 10/15/14


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