Lips locked are preserved from accidents of unattended slip
Pursed lips don't curse, don't receive an unwanted parting kiss
Can't sip too much wine, won't waste time in idle conversation
Locked lips are reputedly safe from decay of hard won reputation
Dessication for sure unless you drink a chance unlabeled potion
Do you think you'd float downriver forever so minimally motioned?
Perhaps but a firm stance ensures protection from wild chance
Don't by a fool's careless rush bleed to dry up the bank balance
Or stumble by a reach so far it trips at the tipover brink
On every dare a wannabe lover dished into your kitchen sink
Smoke rises resentful from campfires banked into a safe ashen cold
After breakfast before the trip home on getaway weekends I am told
When nothing left to chance dared nothing that was left unplanned
By expectations poured cold syrup slow from a precisely measured can
A good thing, yes, to play cautious with your cards, face down maybe
Yeah whistle that heads up next time you walk past a graveyard baby
Archimedes cried, Where's a fulcrum to leverage purpose in all this
Cried I - Playgrounds are for gambling when we stumble for a kiss
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2 comments:
This sounds like a truth or dare anthem. My favorite lines are,
"On every dare a wannabe lover dished into your kitchen sink"
and
"By expectations poured cold syrup slow from a precisely measured can."
so I counter with:
If Questioning Would Make Us Wise
If questioning would make us wise
No eyes would ever gaze in eyes;
If all our tale were told in speech
No mouths would wander each to each.
Were spirits free from mortal mesh
And love not bound in hearts of flesh
No aching breasts would yearn to meet
And find their ecstasy complete.
For who is there that lives and knows
The secret powers by which he grows?
Were knowledge all, what were our need
To thrill and faint and sweetly bleed?
Then seek not, sweet, the "If" and "Why"
I love you now until I die.
For I must love because I live
And life in me is what you give.
Christopher Brennan
Hmmmm, nice reply. This Christopher Brennan guy I don't know, he has very good poetic chops.
I really liked this:
"For who is there that lives and knows
The secret powers by which he grows?"
We really don't, maybe can't never, know all that drives us to do what we do, weigh our choices. At least know it in fancy word talk; wordless moments weigh in, show what cannot be seen.
Despite the ranks and rows of phalanxed psychology literature and self help, we retain some mystery about our moves, even if our lives appear to fall into patterned loops; still there will be sparks of wordless force down there, somewhere deep, that adds some touch to the steering well.
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