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Just Like A Star

Michael Jenkins 27/02/2012
We walk and skip,
And run through the park
We dot out the stars,
Always hitting our mark.

Through the late hours,
I hold you in my arms,
Not a care in the world,
Total freedom from harm.

Every time I touch you,
It’s just like the first,
Every minute I’m without you,
Every minute gets worse.

I hold you through the night,
As if we were one,
Troubles pass us by,
They trouble us none.

That’s what we could have,
Different from all them,
I see myself with you,
But you can’t see yourself without him.

My Only

Michael Jenkins 27/02/2012
Her hair it runs,
Like maddened spiders’ silk,
Her skin sweet,
Head to feet,
Like creamy, buttery, milk.

Her smile wishful,
Uttering so much peace,
Her lips glow,
Move so slow,
Flattening out the seas.

Her nose rests tight,
Centers perfect on her face,
It wiggles,
It woes,
Dealing a touch of grace.

An angel so sweet,
Body full of bliss,
I love her not for this.

Her eyes do stare,
And see through the sea,
Seeing, the true me.

Wasted Time

Michael Jenkins 27/02/2012
(This is old, 5 years maybe.)

Time on me is wasted time
Every chance is detailed to an end
Some I talk to longer
Some I never befriend

I wouldn’t call it a dog chasing his tail,
It’s fun when it storms, but not when there’s hail.
That’s so you know, I enjoy the chase,
But it’s not all that, that wasn’t the case.

I chased my tail for the 15th time,
And this tail it led me to a hooked line.
I much prefer to be hooked and secure,
Maybe this one isn’t as bad as before.

Not to say all tails were bad,
Just boring, or bitches, or cheaters like I had.
This time I was hooked, and it was set for sure.
Long nights that turned to noon , two then four.

When the chase becomes a race,
There’s always a defining moment.
Like the 5 second stares from across the room.
Or that silent kiss, that in your head went boom.

From there on in
I was helpless no doubt.
Feeble, for anyone with a cute smile,
That took their time.

You always underestimate a kiss.
Your mind is running, running.
But slow down and do it like this.
Very cunning, cunning.

I still love to run,
Just not as far as I used to.
Because running too fast, down a slippery slope,
Leaves you tired, angry, worn out and broke.

So now I walk and occasionally sprint,
If I see a good race, or time well spent.
But they’re all the same, or blurring together,
The only change is the Virginia weather.

That being said, I’d tell you to race.
The more you race the more you know.
So you can tell them, with much practice,
“Don’t race too fast, take time to grow.”

Black and White

Michael Jenkins 27/02/2012
Every shirt tucked in
Every shoe tied tight
The people sat down
Lined left to right

The air was still
The smell was stale
Lying down
Drawn and pale

Glass that stretched
Lined the walls
Those vibrant colors
Lit the halls

Every eye open
Every mouth closed
All motionless
In concerned pose

Not taller than the pillow she lie on
Just yet another one of life's pawns.

The Way It Went Down

Michael Jenkins 27/02/2012
(I do a lot of word play/symbolism)

A valley so rich
Found only by luck
Fruit trees so vibrant
Their grapes we did pluck

Life was boasted there
Found one early spring
Frolick and falter
Screams of joy did ring

The sweet pat of rain
As it smacks the crown
The way it looks, O
The way it went down.

A river by the town
Where the older play
'Twas their leisure time
Freedom from their day

Two young boys ran out
Thoughts full of desire
Branches full of smoke
Their leaves full of fire

As I met his eyes
The glare of the town
Pierced as I saw, O
The way it went down

A Line In the Sand

Michael Jenkins 27/02/2012
(I'm really swayed by naturalistic style writing and whatever I do I tryto fulfill vivid detail and description of scenery; This is best read slowly)

A clean face
Smooth but not shaven
Looks outside
His normal haven

Dumb yet daring
Brandished with bold
Most were young
Some were old

A family behind
A world apart
Miles away
An unwanted start

No more school
Or sweetheart bound
Instead concrete
And steel beds he found

What he was there for
He was none the wiser
Another problem
No one else knew either

Only a few men knew
Of the real problem
Yet they send in pawns
To try to solve them

No more white fences
And luring gates
Only tadpoles of men
Meeting their fates

No more green grass
Or luscious flowers
Only Whistling Sand
Through the waking hours

Who is to say
Whose death is more important
The Man in the field
Or the Man who deployed him.

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