Poem One
Sitting here I wonder
Amongst the blue haze of the day
What is the point?
The greens, the reds, the purples appear only to me
To another, it's black, orange and yellow.
Another the dullness of only heat emitted.
Vision, Sight.
Being able to see is not the same as being able to See.
Sight beyond Sight. Purpose.
Clarity. Vision of Thought.
Haziness clouds my judgement.
Darkness rains on the the parade.
The tears of a clown drip white with the paint of a thousand laughs
The laughs hide the pain and torment of blood so deep it's black.
Poem Two
The shroud of purple-black comes over the sky
The stars shine but no sailor navigates by them tonight
White, blue, red, and yellow many trillions of miles away
Lifetimes and infinite in content.
Light making it to my eyes from a planet long dead.
Beings looking up to the sky not yet seeing the blue green orb I inhabit
The peaceful ness of the void overcomes
The eternal reminder
The constant of the Universe
The truth, darkness is here, but light pierces it
Poem Three
Firetruck brilliance in the simplest of natures design.
White accents of symbolic nature
Enjoyment surrounds your insides.
Bubbling liquid joy do you contain.
Pull back the simple tab and an explosion occurs.
Pressure enters the vacuum and the whole container chills
The fist tape of syrupy liquid touches parched and crack lips.
Coca-Cola, when I wanted a Pepsi.
Poem Four
The song goes "Nights in White Satin"
I wish to know the feeling and meaning of wearing white satin just once
But I do know the truth as the song goes on
Touch is sense that can be overloaded
Touch is a tye-dyed shirt that exploded with purple, blue, pink, yellow,
green and the entire rainbow
Touch is the pain of the rose's thorn when inhaling it's sweet aroma
Touch is the burn of plasma flame: Charring flesh to the bone
Touch is the soft fur of kitten, followed by the sneeze afterwards
Touch is the sweet smell of the country drive as one goes by a hog farm
Touch by one who knows what she does is an errection
Painful till i can gain release inside the silky wetness inside her
Touch by such a woman is pleasure
Her warm soft wet breath all over me, her tongue carressing my nipples making
them ache
Touch is the rapture of her mouth swallowing me and hearing the slurping
sounds
Touch is the explosion that forms inside me and transfers through her body
Collapsing upon her smooth and slippery skin.
That is a night in white satin to me.
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Copyright © 2002 Paul Joseph Barnard