Inside a yellow cab
she sits
crosses long legs
finger gloss lips
peering out at Flushing Bay
ten minute ride
to house on the left
four doors down

a lighted shadow
standing content
knowing specialness had arrived

nude pictures packaged on table
bottled Negra Modelo
downstairs counting nine steps
open forum
freshly smoked Newports
she begged a drag
his cologne roaming

ONCE YOU ALL SWITCH TO FREE VERSE THINGS WILL GET

Worse
a curse
Loved has made all forget
what was poetry and verse
and the bestest critique we all know ,
will my cruci-fixation rehearse

ere that happens guys go back to your archaicity
and
leave my precious verse to and for me..

i must thank thee
if you want to see
the bard survive in me..

The paltry sun smiles across the frozen Plains,
as if to mock my shivering words,
“How long will this winter last”
The trees and shrubs that wooed the summer breeze
with blossoms ablaze,
are smitten under foot,
after boasting they would never die,
now lie still,
fallen emblems of a summer past,
there ghostly voices still echoing,
“How long will this winter last”
The robin feeds oblivious to the frost and cold,
looking only for his meal of worm,
pausing briefly for the wintry wind,

Inside the pearly embrace of nature’s spotlight
Warmed and soothed by time
At peace at last I stand in moonlight
Emptied beautifully by the moment only
How the healing eased the ache
The searing, sucking legacy of that deceiver
I know now the gift that was his heartless disregard
To free me up for this deserving heart and potency
Where I once craved and suffered in such unfulfilled desire
I glance behind, mere memory that fades each season
And nestle free of tethered thrashing disappointed hope

I am loosing it
At the edge of sanity
Another step and damned
The aura of madness below
Menacingly stretching its murky lips

Fate; her claws wedged in my skin
Just like others I am a victim, blame her
Dragged spiteful through her coarse domain
Cursing while she chuckles. 'This is life.’ She says

breath the blood of night
staining dark mauve
veins velvet
punctured harsh
dark lust raining
drops to parch

song of lark
arrive the night
tis the sweet
trill for the
death of night

...

The hunger of my heart,
Is a warm and sweet dream,
Like strawberries and water,
Like peaches and cream,

The desire that fuels me,
The heated longing I keep,
Deep down inside of me,
Begging to be free,

Like thirst, like starvation,
This is how things are,
In the moist chambers,
The corridors of my heart,

The one thing I would cry for,
From another human being,
My darling is your love,
Like honey to me,

You’ve been dragging around my heart for years
And in my dirty, dirty mind, I should decide to let go
You’ve been hanging around in the chasm of my soul in fears
And in my light, some stories, I might decide to let you know

And what was it that you said? “All roads would lead to this”
Or something, so cerebral then, I wouldn’t notice

Tell me all the things that you’d never do
Come on, let me crush you up
Lovely, lovely, lovely

I saw you today
for only a brief moment as you drove by-
maybe on your way to work,
or to the grocery store,
or to the place you've begun to call home.
Anywhere but to be with me.

I saw you today
and it brought a flood of memories-
of long late night talks,
of walking to the bus stop
on chilly mornings,
of singing My Chemical Romance
at the top of our lungs.

Final Revision
Prose "The Burglar" by Nordic Cloud revised to Poetry (Prose to Poetry)

A man in old grey dehevelled clothing
Black hair, ruddy face stood by a fence
Walking deliberatly slow along the streets
Perusing a site to commit burglary
He kept rhythm with the fence pailing

A girl peering through net curtains
made a crack in the lace had begun
To observe him as he eyed the houses
Dropped the curtain she stepped back
from the window as she noticed him
Looking in her direction