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(Part One) A Poetic Portrait Of Me and You

Poetry By: joshua boyde

Tags: Visual, Book

A collection of short poems.

Submitted:May 27, 2010    Reads: 42    Comments: 5    Likes: 2   

Music Box Dancer
Piano keys... One, two, three.
But the music box dancer no longer turns as she now only sleeps.
A diary of childhood memories hidden below the pink-silk floor.
Did she have a happy face, or did she disappear without a trace.
How did the music box dancer end up alone in this second-hand place?
To be forgotten is such a waste.

Breakup Song
Only days ago it was so different then; we were so in love... what changed since then?
Watching her walk out the front door; knowing I won't be seeing her anymore.
My world has been shocked and knocked apart as that song debut in the charts.
Now as I grieve why do the radio stations insist on playing that song?
Were they plagiarizing from my head; were they recording everything we said.
NO, not again that god-damned ... breakup song.

What Would I Say

What would I say if I ever saw your face again?
How have you been, how is your life, how long has it been, how is your wife.
Maybe I would just say "have a nice day" with a wink and a smile.
Maybe I would ask; do you remember when...we would both laugh as though we were friends.
Maybe I would say "frankly my dear I don't give a" … chance to see you again.
Maybe I would ask you for one final dance.

Dear John... Just because
Just because your name is on the front; does not mean this letter is meant for you.
Just because there is a heart drawn around the initials for me and you; does not mean I am still in love with you.
Just because I called you on the phone and hung up; does not mean I had something important to say to you.
Just because the picture of us as a pair is still on my dresser draw; does not mean I still care... cause I just liked the frame.
Just because I have not been out since we broke up; does not mean I am still yours.
Just because I am standing at your door; does not mean anything... cause I am waiting for you to return my things.
Just because I stayed and had another gin; does not mean I am yours for sin.
Just because I stayed the night; does not mean that we're all right.
Just because I want you back; does not mean anything... means everything.

Dear Jane... I wish

I saw you on the dance floor with your girlfriends.
The clothes you wore, the skin you showed left me exposed.
I can talk to any other girl and be so kool with those lines yet I am mute when it comes to you.
I wish I had the courage to walk right up to you; to take you in my arms and sweep you off your feet with my charms.
NO... I have wasted another chance as you're leaving in another's arms; please throw me a backwards glance.

Death Of A Gun Swinger
It is 4 o'clock in the morning and you're still out which can only leave me no doubt; you're not coming home tonight.
Do you really need just one last spin around the world without your golden ring?
Given what I told you, why do you still need a lover, because I don't want any other?
I wish someone would put a bullet in my head because you can't put a band-aid on the bullet wound you fired straight through my heart.

Love's Clown
The curtains draw back; but I am the only one standing there.
You were the star of my show; but did you see this as just a stepping stone.
While I was backstage perfecting the lines; did you decide that I was out of time?
I guess I am left to perform to an empty house.
Turn down the lights, as I don't want to go on tonight.
Another sad clown has left center stage.

The Air Band
Crazy piano pounding in my head; as my hands bounce up the scales.
Hear' comes the drums; as my fists tap out that infectious beat.
Hear' comes the guitars; as my fingers strum out a whale'.
Come on have some fun, bang away on those air drums you "Animal".
Come on "Floyd" play your bass with your pink thumbs.
Hear' comes the vocal lead; oh gees it is enough to make your ears bleed.
Okay don't give up your day job; but then what else have you got to lose...

If God Wore A Dress
If God wore a dress would religion be the same; sometimes I think it is a shame.
Would there be such duress?
Would we be less unkind?
Would religion be a cross to bear?
Would priests be quoting scripture and verse with fingers crossed behind their back?
Yes, if God wore a dress would it be such a distress?
But then I suppose you can't have a God who bleeds at the end of each seed.


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