The finest of intricacies,
Clung firmly upon thy wrist,

Harmonious,

Motion drives that beating heart,
It's man who stirs that rotor,

A skeleton of the sturdiest of bones,
Amongst, that movement lay,

Gear's spun all so elegantly,
The very composition of your complexities,

A fluent waltz between man and mechanism,
Interdependence,

Oh what admirable craft of a God.

Buoyancy keeps me floating above
a tide of seductive
                           deepening

I'm a stop motion venture that will
surprise you with a reality
                                       at its ending..

How many wish their days were different.
Just how far would one force the wheel back.
How many hours and seconds feel wasted.
On people.
Phone calls that last into the a.m.
Sleepless nights.
Wakeless days.
We call them day dreams.
Because when night falls.
Only nightmares await.
What is it called when the terror recedes due to repetition.
So many ache for a life less frightening.
Constantly swerving to avoid shadows.
Disregarding the dotted lines left by those that embrace an unknown.
That will never be traversed again.
Creating a fear of mistakes.
That only feed the ever growing mass which ironically will never know growth.  
It is too​ perpetual to be called stagnant.
And we have yet to see just how much will be consumed.
It's only when a distinction can be made.
That will cause such a drastic shift in paradigm.
Sending tremors of enlightenment and damnation alike back to the epicenter.
Just to shake down what meager sandcastle stand.
Can one breathe life.
When so many forget to inhale.
Then ****** themselves into an endless void.
which should never have been undertaken to begin with.
Like trying to start a car without first getting out of bed.
Then realize only a tire-less bicycle is all that sits in the drive way.
One Should fear.
For sometimes it is the only drive that can be counted on.

You know how your follicles open and your heart tightens.
The way your ***** creep upward when you gift her something thoughtful.
Things.

That's how I feel when I make you *** 5 times in one day.
That's my thoughtful gift.
Feelings.
Physical and intrinsic.

You know how important you feel when she buys you 4 bean bags which look good only next to her insular lava lamps.
Kingly.

And I. I am only most important when you leave me your words to immerse myself in.
I am chosen then abandoned for her throne.

Think about that and ask me why I can't work with you if I can't have your words inside of me if only to crown you King.
******* it sir.

Living a pipe-dream, I realise,
This life ain't what we despise.

Greedy with desires, running on a course,
Not being content, filled with remorse.

Taking a step back, I see what it's like,
Chugging along parallel lines, is what we call life.

A line of desires, a line which we are on,
An illusion of convergence, that's all we've got.

So rage along your path, keeping on the smile,
Life is not a destination, but a journey worth each mile.

If we could write a motion memento
Just a couple of sentences long.

Just long enough for people to stop and live
the moment along.

If we could stop and tell the world the point of it all,
many eyes of disguise would laugh as they think they already know.

How could we forget and loose our point along the way,
And keep on walking breathlessly, as if the secret has never been told away.

We share our memories and our tears
We live in an irrational emotional fears.

If we could write a motion memento
Just a couple of sentences long

just long enough to catch attention
in this fast living world.

Just long enough to remind you
that all you have is NOW.

Empty bodies
Trading masks
To wear on certain occasions
While beings form
From the murky waters
Of truth
Into systematic
Artificial
Operative
Efficient
Structures of lies
That keep kindred souls
Trapped behind
A window pane
Watching the world collapse
In 2D motion
Only to find freedom
Within the mind.

Tell me in a whisper
softly speaking in my ear
Let me close my eyes
and feel you really near

Hands on skin of velvet
a callous dream come true
*A juxtaposed position
this love I have with you

A poet you are too
   a poetess,
   so am I
Poetry in motion
was left in our goodbye

I see you here tomorrow
  to kiss your lips again
Pull out another paper
 * and caress you with my pen

I write about the passion
as fire burns us down
From crumpled old love letters
*left lying on the ground

Returned I am
to yesterday
gone without a sound

dipping my quill in ink
   stroking in black ashes
fanning the flames
 * as...I write
  *the night
for you again.


Cherie Nolan© 2016