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poetry by lou sid linesman - on life, love & politics
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Love Beyond The Acheron
For you are the girl who dances naked,
Bathing under the secondhand sunlight as it glistens down in gleams from the glossy golden garb of your false fantasy knight,
Your true sun stolen away way back before you were born beautifully brash eclipse-side of this bare low loveless land - locked down with the divisive fear of the safe and songless in the sick sure certainty of a secure state.
You, who willingly willingly works for the enemy - busily building from within, your own palace prison for the unaccounted army of almighty armoured men,
Each year another skin, another crust, another barrier to freedom’s full thrust,
Forging a flat key from the mellow mettle of your soul’s ever immuring cell,
Silently slid out through those oh so brittle bars - exchange for the solid silver service of some sad suited men’s inspirational rape.
And you...called...me...wrong?
But I am the knight, protected and bright,
Hiding hulked from the hot rays of the pillaged days of those lives upon lives upon lives lying silent as stones in the walls that they built, but cemented with guilt,
Which blocked out the one sun from the place where the world was begun, for the fun of the fair, without care nor share for those whom our prayer has implored the old weight to so awfully bear.
I, who turned my back on the wrathfully confident ruling ranks, went waltzing into a wanton wilderness questing the answer all-knowing and flowing to fill my heart’s solo deep-sweetened sorrowing,
Sliding and slipping, so smoothly content, to the saddened self-sale of my second-choice slavery’s unpaid rent,
Waiting for fences to rise before scaling their sides and then resting in fear of the unfettered clear as it stretched from eternity back to the near,
Where I watched as the Evil grew into a tree which I grudgingly felled for a cut-priced fee.
And you...called me...wrong...
For you are the girl who dances naked,
The one who braved the critical stage, bank-side of Acheron’s unremittingly angry severing sage,
Where you taunted me, teased me, wickedly blunt, from a fatal self-sealing defensive shell, just too well aware that my pallid mal-nourished emotionless corpse would be blazed by the real daylight’s hard heat, my hell,
(Unfinished)
© Lou Sid Linesman, 2006. All Rights Reserved.
I'm Sorry
Baby,
I’m sorry,
I’ve hurt you,
And hurt you,
I’ve left you to suffer, I must have been mad.
I miss you,
I’ve missed you,
Always missed you so bad.
Losing love you’ve never had leaves you hurt and so sad.
© Lou Sid Linesman, 2006. All Rights Reserved.
Your Poems
Your poems, I like some - maybe two, maybe three,
They're simple and honest - what poetry should be,
I always admired that you penned them at all,
Unexpressive was I, a tightly-wound ball.
You've got a few lyrics that work a real dream,
That 'vibe' - your description was quite, quite supreme,
And those new ones that tell how you’re lonesome in bed,
They worked one wicked spell which just messed with my head!
But I ought not compare them to what I now write,
My old stuff, you see, was a great heap of shite!
Oh you think I'm insane 'cause I love you so true?
Well that says less about me, dear,..... and more about you!!!
© Lou Sid Linesman, 2006. All Rights Reserved.
Will You?
When the wave breaks,
Will you stand firm and strong,
Resistant to ugly and merciless wrong?
Or when the wave breaks,
It will surely be soon,
Will you ride on the surf with the moral-immune?
When the wave breaks,
Will you value your freedom
And defend the pure peace of your heart's inner kingdom?
Or when the wave breaks,
Will you wash up on shore,
With the weak and the meek and the self-unsure?
When the wave breaks,
Will you swim bold and well,
Will you struggle to ride out the fearful swell?
Or when the wave breaks,
Will you crave for the power,
Which feeds on the few who so in their skins cower?
And when the tide turns,
Will you stand tall and proud,
Unless fallen in battle, your love shouting loud?
Or when the tide turns,
Will you claim not to know,
And be sucked out to sea by deep guilt's ever vengeful undertow?
© Lou Sid Linesman, 2006. All Rights Reserved.
Listen, My Dove
From each other we’re drawing sweet poison’s pain,
With sheer pleasure’s horizon’s self-punishing gain.
When our hearts are both purged by this powerful cure,
We’ll brave up to the future, love’s fuel warm, strong, pure.
We all hold the code to our own dear liberation,
Which no-one can grant - it takes sure self-generation,
So the deepest dark love of self-truth is the key
And our fear of the world is the lock, you see.
For your cage-door’s no latch there - one nudge and you’re free,
Yet you’re not forced to fly - don’t just do it for me,
And if you choose to soar skyward to the clear-blue above,
Never feel you must come search for me, oh my Dove.
© Lou Sid Linesman, 2006. All Rights Reserved.
Locked-Out, Locked-Down, Drawn-In, Drawn-Up
Dove,
I went into an exile from you I so craved,
For I'd lost all my grip on the way I behaved.
My unwanted proposals and gifts had displayed
A contempt for the love in which I'd been arrayed.
An anonymous coward, pushed out in the cold,
Into mutual enslavement I rushed to be sold,
Thus I took cruel revenge on your own scornful fright,
Which most justly had banished me out of your sight.
Although vengeance may sometimes be justified,
It can never resolve troubles deep-sown inside,
So my self-centrical-sickness remained uncured
And to sorrow's fraught battlefield I was soon lured.
Well, hard experience makes for the strictest of master
And my re-education improved with disaster,
But loveless, my days were a grey-scale of grind,
Desecrating, mauling and maiming my mind.
When Evil my Brother as hostage did seize,
I joined battle against Human soul-disease,
And though weak from a spirit too sad and too ill,
I set foot on the road to find strength of goodwill.
At first, I took fright and spent time lying low,
My only true Mother even I feared to know,
Yet my Brother did coax me, in Truth did he coach me,
His morality nourished, emotionally charged me.
Then I climbed to a crest for my story to view,
And saw, my Dove, the apologies due,
So I rushed to my Mother the message to send,
But found her life's quest had long since reached it's end.
Dazed for a week, grief flowed through me in waves,
A part of me lost that my memory saves.
My Dove, I just had to make contact with you,
And I wrote to bring peace and to start life anew.
© Lou Sid Linesman, 2006. All Rights Reserved.
The Key
My Dove, it's now time - to clear up this dirt,
It's centuries deep, has caused fathoms of hurt.
But today, I can only clean up my own mess,
For it's causing me untold emotional stress.
This has been an incredibly tortuous journey,
Yet I've only just sacked my immoral attorney.
Let's go right back to A, sharply see what I did,
When came feelings of love which no longer we hid.
I got such a shock, such a beautiful rush,
I'd never before in my life felt so flush,
And I so badly, so badly wanted to keep
That fond fire from dying - from falling asleep.
At first, I tried vainly your true love to buy,
With a cynical flowers-wine-sympathy-lie.
I knew you'd enjoy it, I knew you so well,
Yet try as I might you did not wish to sell.
There followed a kiss - so incredibly sensual,
Where you wanted to test out my real potential,
But it left me dead calm and I couldn't comprehend
Why this physical touch did not heaven's gate rend.
Then, you realized that something was wrong,
That my tuning was out and that I was off-song,
So you bade me forget it; I claimed that I loved you,
I had pulled out a gun and had gone tried to mug you.
You explained that you really could not say the same,
That I even had failed to spell love's simple name.
Thereafter, you cut me right out of your life,
On dragged month-upon-month of sad sick sleepless strife.
So next came that long oh so infamous letter,
When I laid myself low for to snare you the better,
But you could not accept this false base-line for love
And rock-bottom awaited, my sweet-scented Dove.
You had sensed all my anger, my mad mind-control,
My furious temper, my enslaving cruel role.
I was blind to what I was attempting to do:
To trap love, to cage love, to incarcerate you.
© Lou Sid Linesman, 2006. All Rights Reserved.
We Could
Pass ’round my place - we could talk over tea,
We could walk on the Marshes and breathe deep and free.
We could eat - I’d cook up my most savoury dish,
Or we’d chip up the road, share grilled African fish.
I’m political now - so too always were you,
We could tell John and Yoko a good thing or two!
We’d look to the future and hope to grow old,
Perhaps sit in the park and then cuddle-off the cold.
You could meet with my children - I swear they’re divine!
Or relax, indoors, with a bottle of wine.
I could take hold your hand and just give it a squeeze
When remembering times which make words seem to freeze.
We could think of the loved ones who’ve left us back here,
And allow them to bless us by shedding a tear.
We could sense the romance in all the four seasons,
Feel happy for no really obvious reasons.
We could go down the pool and you’d soon learn to swim,
Let our eyes join in dance on a gaze-glancing whim.
We’d pursue all our passions - from A to Zed,
Or just get a bit randy and jump into bed!
We could visit the friends who’d rejoice at our love,
We could hold an embrace like the warmest-knit glove.
We could bare the whole truth - each one to the other,
And criticize faults - no matter the bother!
We could argue and know that we’d always make up,
Kiss more eagerly than drinking from the sweetest sweet cup.
We’d face the world’s troubles with new-born incentive,
Contrapuntally weaving fine lyrics inventive.
We could spar and poke fun without fear of offending,
Begin a long conversation we’d no plans on ever ending.
© Lou Sid Linesman, 2006. All Rights Reserved.
Wrong Call
I was desperately, desperately worried
That day - so please, please please understand,
But was it for you that I was concerned,
When I proffered my miserable hand?
I should have asked you how you were,
Although I felt so raw,
Yet I want to be there and I want to care,
For you, forever, and more.
You can’t afford to trust the weak,
For fear you’ll be swallowed down too,
So I know well you’ll never cut me any slack,
And that’s why I’ll always be in love with you!
© Lou Sid Linesman, 2006. All Rights Reserved.
The Swimming Lesson
Let me guide you to the pool
To learn the liquid freedom of a space,
As I once slid into the ocean of your mind
And searched its liberating waters’ wondrous wide embrace.
© Lou Sid Linesman, 2005. All Rights Reserved.
