Eric Gibson

Eric Gibson Poems

Between you and me...
I always wanted a woman
who I could read poetry and
share my omniscient sense

I juggle thick red carpenter pencils
between my fingers.
Only one cigarette today.

A sick lust
Stretching past seas and cell phone receptions,
With sleepy-eyed wings of dreaming.

Tell me enough,
Tell me with appealing definitions
Of the innate purity of the twenty-somethings
Who mill about you.

I smile sometimes,
Because she's everything that
Is beautiful;
Everything that I

I watched him and his
Notebook and
His skinny legs
Crossed at the knees.

I sometimes wished she would
cheat on me.
I'd sit with repulsive wishes,
'Maybe tonight...'

As long as sports are televised,
I'll always fear the highlights.
ESPN tires me.

I fear your pompous nature.
Yes, yours.
I fear that holy sword of criticism
You carry with savage

We all wait for words of
Love or pictures.
Refreshing web pages over and over
Waiting for bold-printed guests,

gi raaaan....jaaa....

Creaking voices like oaks

I've finally found it...
The hollow pit of silent

I'm slowly rocked to sleep by
the way he speaks.
His broken english resembles
a long,

Oh, come on.
Haven't I pondered a single
glorious notion all day?

Did someone look upon my
teenage thrashings and
breathe impatiently?

Keep your shrewd pedantics
all to your self.

Swallow your excessive wails

My chest flash-boils when hurtful
things are said toward me.
Did you know that?

Won't be long now.

I know,
crouching among the bushes

The Best Poem Of Eric Gibson

Between You And Me...

Between you and me...
I always wanted a woman
who I could read poetry and
share my omniscient sense
of human connection with.
Some woman who would cry
my Christ-like tears with me
and rejoice the pains
and celebrate
and wax poetic of the jewels
of life.

I look at Najuwa and
think how easy she makes
me happy.
I realise now,
how pompous and
silly I once was.

Between you and me....
Walt Whitman's bottomless
zeal for the scent of leaves and
the clap of thunder is a myth.

Whitman was happy and
excited when her eyes
climbed up to his from below him
like some depraved servant
of sexual favors
while he invaded her mouth.

He felt ignited and alive,
just like me,
when she laughed at his jokes
with eyes of adoration and
cheeks of cherry-colored light.

Tell me, Walt;
Are you not disarmed
and frail in the tunnel
of her loving gaze?

between you and me....
I know you don't care
about the grass,
and the birds.

I know you don't pop and crackle
with childish fascination when
the sun rises.

When will you stop being the
simpleton bodhisattva of happiness
and embrace dereliction
like the rest of us? !

....between you and me....
I don't buy it.

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