Monday, May 22, 2017

Thinking of Death

I live my life like Death will pass me by.
   I plan like there will always be tomorrow.
Convinced that only other people die,
   I mourn their loss with mixed relief and sorrow.
Death is the tiger that I cannot see;
   The jungles of the day-to-day conceal it.
Death is the knife that’s always aimed at me;
   Like happiness, just other people feel it.
Life is the great rigged game Death plays with me,
   Making me think that I am in the clover.
I get the ball for years and score scot-free.
   Death only has to play once, and Game Over.
      I hold the key, but haven’t got a clue.
      I think of death, but never think it through.

Copyright 2017 Matthew J Wells

Wednesday, May 17, 2017

If I Love You

If I love you, that means you give me hope.
If I love you, good deeds are bribery.
If I love you, I’ll sulk when I don’t mope.
If I love you, then you need therapy.

If I love you, my flaws can’t live without you.
If I love you, then your heart has a sentry.
Love is the novel that I write about you
So I can swear that it’s a documentary.

I’ll tell you you’re the sun to my cold earth,
I’ll make you fill a cup that has no bottom,
I’ll give your moods control over my worth,
I’ll kill your spring with my dead leaves of autumn,

And hate you for what you don’t do or say.
So if you love me, please—please—run away.

Copyright 2017 Matthew J Wells

Monday, May 15, 2017

Love Is

Love is a treasure dive without the bends
   That robs a cave where green-eyed monsters lurk.
Love is like Friday night—it never ends
   And never thinks about next Monday’s work.
Love is a game where moves are all unplanned
   And rules never exist until you make them.
Love is a do-it-yourself Disneyland—
   You have to build the rides before you take them.
Love is a toll road that will not take change.
   Love dies a little without self-destruction.
Love is a singer with a three-note range
   Who only sounds good after post-production—
      A heart you’ll misplace till it goes astray
      And only find when you give it away.

Copyright 2017 Matthew J Wells

Wednesday, May 10, 2017

Fun Party

The ones who don’t, keep saying that they care.
The ones who shouldn’t, drink in great amounts.
The host parades as if he has a pair.
The hostess is the only dish that counts.

The beauty with the legs wears tiny shorts.
Her lover shows off pictures of his kids.
They’re in the bedroom making sweater forts
While Mom watches her marriage hit the skids.

The one whose lips burn like a lemon flame
Is kissing the remote and debonair.
The one you want to whisper your full name
Chats about someone hot who isn’t there.

And every drink tastes like a sweet collection
Of desperation, envy and rejection.

Copyright 2017 Matthew J Wells

Monday, May 8, 2017

Love Is

Love is a wish that blesses when it curses.
Love is a dish that’s half-sublime, half-trite.
Love is a play that endlessly rehearses,
Then gets rewritten every single night.

Love is the raw suspense of the pursuit,
The biting thorn chased by the soothing feather.
Love is my shipwreck and my parachute.
I want to be included, not together.

I’m drawn to what is hopeless, vain or doomed.
I crave what sense and sanity forbid.
The loves that didn’t happen have consumed
My hungry soul more than the ones that did.

For love’s exciting—maddening—taboo—
Inconstant—steadfast—kind—like me. Like you.

Copyright 2017 Matthew J Wells

Thursday, May 4, 2017

I Need You Like

           “I need him like the axe needs the turkey.”
                                --The Lady Eve

I need you like the doormat needs the boot.
I need you like the dry mop needs the spill.
I need you like the foodstain needs the suit.
I need you like the bullet needs the kill.

I need you like a cataract needs eyes.
I need you like the sickness needs the host.
I need you like the firing squad needs spies.
I need you like the braggart needs the boast.

I need you like the right hook needs the chin.
I need you like self-pity needs rejection.
I need you like forgiveness needs the sin.
I need you like false gods need genuflection.

I need you like the drunk needs alcohol
Which means I really don’t need you at all.

Copyright 2017 Matthew J Wells

Tuesday, May 2, 2017

Peter Pan

He made his move and what was there to say.
You only heard his lies each time he talked.
You had moved on, but not quite moved away.
The door was almost closed, and in he walked.

He said: “I’m sorry—it was my mistake.”
You thought: Guys don’t mistake-sleep with another.
He said: Tell me how to help heal this break.”
You thought: Bad boys always come home to mother.

And mothers always take their wastrels back.
He’s Peter Pan, you’re Wendy, and it blows.
He gives you magic, and you give him slack,
Which keeps him immature. And so it goes

Until he leaves to live with lost boys and
Some little bitch from Never-Never Land.

Copyright 2017 Matthew J Wells

Monday, May 1, 2017

The Game of Hearts

Hearts speak to hearts in knowledge beyond words.
   They bleed into each other when they meet.
They nest in feathered warmth like mating birds.
   “Ah—there you are!” they say. “Now I’m complete.”
Hearts give themselves to hearts like Christmas toys—
   Some soothe you in your sleep, like quilts of cotton;
Some pierce your soul with never-ending joys;
   Some end up in a chest, lost and forgotten.
Hearts can break other hearts because they care
   For nothing but the smugness of the vain.
But hearts bring hearts to life each time they share
   Their every gift, without a thought for gain,
      And light the way past envy and regret—
      Like yours to mine did, on the day we met.

Copyright 2017 Matthew J Wells