The Stirrup Cup

Go and be happy, let your soul be full

   Of love from someone else’s giving heart.

Let passion splash you with the urgent pull

   Of life to life, or fresh start to fresh start.

Go and forget the past, that dreary wood

   Where you were lost and couldn’t find your way,

And worked so hard just to feel halfway good

   And burned yourself out just to make things gray.

Go off and build a future that’s so rich

   You can live off the interest till you die,

And hit a home run off of Life’s best pitch

   And always dance and laugh and never cry

      Except for tears much happier somehow

      Than the ones running down my face right now.

Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells

Manhattan Sonnet: Walking These Streets

If we’re not cursing, then we just don’t care.

   The problem’s always someone else, not us.

We know we each deserve the spotlight’s glare.

   We think it’s ghetto when we ride the bus.

We hate our day job but it pays the rent.

   The shoes we wear at night are who we are.

We really don’t know where the week just went.

   If we had time, we’d learn to play guitar.

We have high hopes and very low desires.

   Losing an argument is worse than dying.

No matter what we buy, we kick the tires.

   Once every five blocks we see someone crying.

      That’s why it sadly takes selective blindness

      To walk these streets and still believe in kindness.

Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells

 

Way Of The World

 

Sometimes the world is out to make you hate

   Yourself for all that makes you who you are.

The good in you becomes your evil fate;

   Blessings will curse you; all you make will mar.

You greet the dawn with hope, trust, and affection.

   They all cause the reverse of what you wanted.

Trust gives birth to betrayal; love, rejection;

   And hope becomes the house in which you’re haunted.

It’s like friends who turn into enemies.

   They helped, and now they hurt. Two sides; one coin.

Today’s locked door; yesterday’s set of keys—

   Tomorrow’s hammer, cleaving all you join—

      Till shame and hurt make of your broken pride

      A caustic pit where you can safely hide. 

 

Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells

 

Karinaville

I dreamed last night you were Anna Karina

   And it was like I died and went to heaven.

You wore a white silk tunic, like Athena;

   From one to ten, your beauty hit eleven.

 

You touched my cheek and whispered: “Ah, mon cher,

   Together we will rule the avant-garde.”

We kissed. A great voice thundered out: “BEWARE!”

   The voice of God. (Or was it just Godard?)

 

We stole a vintage Chevy. You said: “Drive.”

   We only stopped to drink at seedy bars.

You handed me a loaded .45,

   For Life is just a girl, a gun, and cars.

 

 

      And when I die, the coroner will claim

      The bullet in my heart that has your name. 

 

Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells

 

 

The Pond

Water Lily Pond at Giverny - Claude Monet

I dreamed last night that, you and I, we’re walking

   Through a green wood where wild amaranth grows.

We come upon a pond and you stop talking.

   You take it in and then take off your clothes.

Naked and unembarrassed, young and slim,

   You race into the water like a boy;

I sit and watch; and for an hour, we swim—

   You in that cool still pond, and I in joy.

There’s never been a happiness in me

   To equal what I feel when I see you

Happy. Such innocent intimacy

   Is like a bell that never rings untrue.

      It tolls as you come out, dry off, get dressed;

      And we continue walking, heading west.

Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells

 

Caveat Emptor

Oh, how I want to go to bed with you!

   I think there’s something real here—let’s pursue it!

Just one thing: when we reach Love Avenue,

   I’ll try to be your friend. Don’t let me do it!

I’ll make you feel at ease. Please—please!—feel lust.

   I’ll want to go shoe-shopping with you. Stop me!

Don’t treat me like a brother you can trust.

   I don’t want sister kisses—lollipop me!

(I love that image.) And I love you more

   Than just a friend—but that’s just what I’ll be,

Because it’s safe. And safety is the floor

   I walk on. And if you walk there with me,

      Then we will never. But we’ll always be

      Good friends. And that’s not good enough for me. 

Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells

Voices

There are too many voices inside me.

   One asks for love so softly no one hears.

One urges me to write incessantly.

   One sings an aria of all my fears.

One swears that I’m the best at what I do.

   One reminds me that fame will not be mine.

One kicks me every time I don’t come through.

   One nags me till I sulk and mutter “Fine.”

Voices that tell me nothing I will make

   Is worth it, so why bother even trying?

So many voices calling me a fake

   And only two of them are never lying:

      The one that catalogues my every shame

      And one that’s always whispering your name.

Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells