More Poems
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Poetry By Lyric...

Because is not an answer.
Because is the beginning to many answers.
Will the no ever become a yes?
Maybe implies nothing.
Maybe implies endless possibilities.
Can you live with that?
Maybe ?
Maybe, with all it's implications.
Will you love me anyway ?

Pretty Girl

round face, round hips
heavy breasts, ample thighs
no one bothers to know her mind,
they say, "she's pretty for a fat girl."

sharp chin, sharp hips
girlish breasts, long neck
creative mind, but what the heck ?
they say, "she's pretty for a thin girl."

small face, small reach
petite legs, childish hands,
big heart, but none understand,
they say, "she's pretty for a short girl."

sharp hips, childish hands,
long neck, ample thighs,
will they ever wonder why
she can't believe she's pretty at all ?


She whispered,
perhaps thinking
she could hide her words
from God
living her life in pseudo happiness,
smiling through her lies
winking he way through deception,
her heart is breaking
but she doesn't know it,
cause the lies she tells
are to herself.


Say you, that you love this woman ?
What means has she of holding your heart ?
What trickery has she used to enslave you?
Be she temptress,
or vixen,
or winged angel,
How comes she to know the hidden
Desires of your mind ?
Has her touch branded you,
left its mark upon skin and soul,
left you afraid to move,
lest the sultry caress
Become only a memory ?
Does she sing sweet,
melodic love songs that
Invade your very soul ?
Be she a minstrel of words,
capturing you with lyrics of
Honey coated inspiration ?
Are her hands soft, her arms
open and inviting ?
Her they mesmerize you,
cradle you in warmth,
Wrapping you in the soft gaze
only lovers know ?
that I might know where
I begin,
and the past which
holds you captive,
A temptress.

Drugstore Addiction

row upon row,
shelf after shelf of
clear skinned,
sweet smelling
bottles of beautification
to be bought
in exchange for my coins.
I am tempted with
promises of eternal youth
and pharmaceutical happiness.
Each Saturday
I head for this cosmetic mecca,
and when my cart is full
and my coinpurse is empty,
I leave my mecca with it's
flourescent lighting,
knowing that Saturday is
but an empty shampoo bottle away.