Category Archives: ruff

The Things I Didn’t Want to Do, by pd lyons


All my life of lingering lies

Each and every single one

A point to point of indelible regret

 

So dig in deep and hold your mark

Squeeze the trigger, don’t black out

Ain’t that a fitting way for it to end

 

Slow and steady always just a mere formality

I could only follow where the strings were pulling me

 

Like the nagging of my mamma

And the raging of my pa

Those class rooms full of things I couldn’t really understand

And those laws that seemed only to apply to me

 

So dig in deep and hold your mark

Squeeze the trigger, don’t black out

Ain’t that a fitting way for it to end

 

 

And where’s the love like in those songs

And where’s the joy of that gospel god?

The fame and fortune like in those magazines

Fulfilling all those promises made by my TV screen

 

All those things I ever learned

All those lessons so absurd

I was only running after someone else’s manufactured dream.

 

So I’ll dig in deep hold my mark

Squeeze the trigger and not black out

And maybe hope for reinforcement will pan out.

 

 

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what i wrote today : The Quiet of Your Love, a thank you poem for Shelly


I like the quiet of your love

when I wake up for no reason in the middle of the night

and you’re laying warm beside me

so everything’s alright

 

I like the quiet of your love

as we walk along the beach

and you’re pointing out the wild things

between the horizon and the sea

 

its those certain situations

no matter where we are

the whole world just goes quiet

like the love you have for me

 

Listening to your laughter

like I listen to your breath

Listening to your voice

like I’m mesmerized

 

and I don’t know how to say it

I always start to cry

so I’ll just hold you closer

and I won’t say a word

I’ll just keep it real quiet

like the love you have for me

sometimes I miss the horse days & someplace, by pd lyons


occasional it happens

 stray song over the kitchen radio

 old photo tucked into a book that for no reason i just picked up to thumb through

i hardly let it pause me

i usually just keep going

 

occasional it happens

 my old bones do an old ache

  glimpse that crooked clavicle in the bathroom mirror

 hardly let it pause me

 usually just keep going

 

occasional it happens

strong scent of well oiled leather maybe someones coat

packed tight on the morning train

mists trough the damp windows

shadows moving up the hills

hardly let it pause me

 usually just keep going

 

occasional it happens

but you know sometimes when it does

i just don’t feel like moving

stay right there  face the tears

yeah sometimes i miss the horse days

sometimes i just fucking do

 

Someplace

Down on the avenue
Work ’til the day is through
I just want to get away
But you know I never do.
And when the sun goes down
I’ll be sitting all alone
Watch them old cowboy shows
On some second hand video.

Wishing I was someplace
Where grass just grows n rain is clean
Where horses run and black birds sing
Someplace where the sky is big n the only cry
From an eagle on the wing.

But I’m city bound by plastic chains
Robbed to death by men with ball point pens.
My hopes gone up in Marlboro smoke
N ghosts of what used to be my dreams
Haunt me with wondering if I’ll live long enough to ever be

Someplace where grass just grows n rain is clean
Where horses run n black birds sing
Someplace where the sky is big and the only cry
From an eagle on the wing.

Someplace where I can ride for days
N never see another human being

 

pdlyonsphoto

pdlyonsphoto

pdlyonsphoto

razor black mirror porcelain by pd lyons


 

razor black

mirror porcelain

 

for your

rose bud

bird song mouth

I have made bouquets

 

gathering

shadow light

creatures wonderful

grotesques fortuitous

clear potable water

dark caves beneath a sunless world

secret hand fulls

tremors lolled by after glows

 

alone like ivory your room in blosom

rich solitudes of orchid

perfumed isolations

joys

with

or

without

love

i only make for you

 

 

memorial by pd lyons


ever onward let me go
ever onward let me go home

this world of lamentation
these buds of easy bloom

you don’t know where
but i’ll find my way

so let me go

i’ll leave a little light for you – if i can

 

truth of youth


stronger

sleeker

smarter

better

wet ourselves at the sight of each other

In My Own Mother’s Tongue by pd lyons


For those who seek refuge

 

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I shall sing you in my own mother’s tongue

The way she sang to me

Old sweet flowers be the rhyme

Before the sorrow time

When all the world so kinder

Even winter held forth joy

When all the dreams of childhood

Free of blood and pain

I shall sing you in my own mothers tongue

The way she sang to me

Hush little darling

Hush a bye and sleep

Soft is the bed where you lay your head

Sweet is the land of sleep

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Satin Blues


 

an elegance of sorrow

nights, no matter how alone

never wishing that they’d end

sometimes the moon

sometimes the stars

sometimes mortality at midnight

halos struck by strange light

rainbowed by the rain

re d Ellington 1956 newport

Phoebe, the tabby cat who lived in the shed, By pd Lyons – English/Irish/French


 

Phoebe

the tabby cat

who lived in the shed

the semi savage

yet ever grateful for the feed

is dead

~

and i am feeling so alone

and i am so sorry

sorry for the whole fucking world

i am

~

crying like a baby

no matter what

everything ends in tears

and the next time…?

the next time…?

~

je répondrai

je répondrai

oui

12239486_10154394221861982_2290477682249360769_n

Phoebe

an cat tabby
a bhí ina gcónaí sa chaillfidh
an Savage leath
ach bhí riamh buíoch as an bheatha
marbh

agus tá mé ag mothú mar sin féin
agus tá mé leithscéal sin
leithscéal as an domhan fucking ar fad
tá mé

ag caoineadh cosúil le leanbh
is cuma cén
Críochnaíonn gach rud i Tears
agus an chéad uair eile ...?
an chéad uair eile ...?

je répondrai
 je répondrai
oui


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phoebe

Le chat tigré

qui vivait dans le hangar 
le sauvage demi encore 
jamais reconnaissants pour l'alimentation 
est mort

et je me sens si seul et 
je suis tellement désolé 
désolé pour tout le monde 
putain je pleure comme un bébé
 
peu importe ce que tout 
se termine dans les larmes

Et la prochaine fois ...
la prochaine fois

je répondrai

je répondrai

oui

12239486_10154394221861982_2290477682249360769_n

Take The Ashes ( the color of slavery), by pd lyons


galway

Take The Ashes

~

The color of slavery is not black

It is red raw open wounds

It is bruised swollen rapes

It is salt scald tears

A scarred ripcord sun

A shimmer of shame rage guilt desire

~

The color of freedom?

Is not black

Is not in stars or bars or bullets

Not even white

Or champagne limousines

Tailored suits, custom shoes, inked tattoos

~

The color of freedom is gray

The gray of ashes

Without which the phoenix will not rise

~

Take the ashes

~

RISE

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