mark king Poems

Don’t cry Momma just, cause I grew up questioning what is and what if?

That girl here now stares out the window naked as if the city lights attract her and call her.
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Plan the pattern of my ways, let not my will be torn.

I yielded my love to her without doubt, it dwells with abiding care.
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We are unworthy
Trying to become Gods
In our own right
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I drove past the old house today

Perhaps nothing happened at all
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I. In front of the mirror she sits painting the age off like an artist. She is a queen upon her throne here amongst the brushes, make-up, perfumes and the reflection of me in the corner of her life.
II. She catches me looking at her then moves enough, so that her skirt rides up her leg showing me the fancy lace at the top of her stocking. It is what I want and it is what she holds over me.
III. I rise up from the bed and stand behind her. My six feet seems to tower over her as she puts on the ruby red lipstick. I begin rubbing her almost bare shoulders easing the unseen tension away.
IV. My surprise comes quickly as I take a knee and pull her full breasts into me. She laughs that crazy laugh, because she knows I’m trapped. Our lips meet in a passionate embrace as the electricity touches our bare skin.
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The Sun,
Its rays reach to her
Through the window
Lighting her beauty
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Night is dark
Hiding in pain
Night is quiet
But trouble remains
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Laying With Lonesome
By Mark King

She stands before him
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