EARTH ABHORS A VACUUM

EARTH ABHORS A VACUUM

Trudging down a muddy path
At desperation’s edge.

Looking down from the dizzy heights
Of a building’s fabled ledge.

The cars below weave slow and prosaic,
A melancholy mosaic that burns my soul to ash.

My dreams go skidding on the cold, wet pavement,
In a heap of twisted tears they crash.

Saline floods the alleys and the disappointed thoroughfares,
Leading me to leap into the sad abyss of nowhere.

Earth abhors a vacuum, and God is sick to death of mine,
I am the bane of his existence, no longer part of his design.

Sullen is the mantelpiece on which I hang my hat.

The best laid plans slip from my hand,
My visions all have fallen flat.

My cries for help they slip and slide,
Precariously over the Great Divide.

Speaking in a foreign tongue my fellow man can’t comprehend.

Perched upon my Tower of Babel, teetering in the dusty wind.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2010
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

TIME WILL COME

TIME WILL COME

Time will come when you will long for
More than just a lover who leaves by stroke of dawn.

Time will come when the bitter world
Falls down around you like a broken song.

And you will inhabit your furious dust,
Long for a companion to heal your pain and rust.

You will feel the cost of the ones you have lost,
The ones you have discarded and given up too soon.

Time will come when your heart requires,
More than a big dick and a pretty face.

Time will come when your years of fun
Will corrode into a bitter race your weary feet cannot sustain.
Time will come when you tread water
And sink beneath a damning rain.

Time will come when your pleasure will evaporate and flee,
And turn into a dreadful scourge that will be mourned and pitied.
Time will come when you long for,
More than a handsome stranger in your bed.
When your voice cries out for tenderness
And a warm soft shoulder on which to lay your head.

For someone to confide in, the secrets that kill and maim,
Another one to go through time with, one who knows your name.

Time will come when you will long for
More than just a lover who leaves by stroke of dawn.
Time will come when the bitter world,
Slips through your fingers like a broken song.

Time will come when your eyes will swell and softly fill with tears,
And you’ll weep for the loss of the golden dreams
You have carried through the years.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2010
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

ANGELS IN THE ATMOSPHERE

ANGELS IN THE ATMOSPHERE

I dare not be sleeping, when inspiration strikes,
Deaf to the sure swift hand of Fate in its flight.

For the moon is high in the October sky,
It’s getting cold this time of year,
And everywhere I turn I see
The angels in the atmosphere.

The angels that watch over me,
As I lay sleeping safe and sound.
Their presence I once doubted
From my vantage point upon the ground.

The angels that sing clear and strong,
The angels that fly with all their might,
Across the valleys and the mountains,
Fading in and out of sight.

I dare not nod nor dare doze off
When they spread their awesome wings,
And lay down sweet beside me
With the joy that freedom brings.

For the nights are long, the trials are real,
The burdens great that I must bear.
So they lend to me their courage grand
And offer up their blessings fair.

And I will rise and call their names,
As surely as I know my own.
And tell the world the joy I’ve found,
The sweet relief from rocks and stones.

The joyful songs that echo forth whenever they are near.
Those sweet companions of my days,
The angels in the atmosphere.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2009
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

I ALMOST FELT YOU NEAR

I ALMOST FELT YOU NEAR

Are you satisfied, my wicked one?
I almost felt you near again last night,
Into my troubled dreams you would catapult,
Spreading your sin like the flowers of your cult.

Do the men still stare and worship you,
Impale themselves on tulip stalks,
Talk the talk and walk the walk,
Eunuch like at your request?

Are you still the evil slab of denial,
Smeared across the face of each man
Who begged and lusted for your flesh.
Are they squirming in your spider’s web,
Tangled in its twisted mesh?

Do they all shiver and quiver at your sight,
My love, are you their treasure?
Do they worship you in unison,
Prick blood from their arms for your pleasure?

Do you still accept burnt offerings like the God of Moses?
Do your lovers still tempt you with wine and with roses?
Lovely dream breaker, do you still play those devious games?
Sleeping with men, then forgetting their names?

Are you satisfied, my wicked one?
I almost felt you near again last night.
Still as vain, still as righteous, still as difficult,
Spreading your sin like the flowers of your cult.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2010
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Author's Note: Relax! Kyle and I are fine. All these "2010" poems so far are from my college days when I was a brooding and bitter young man. I'm still brooding, but I think I'm done with the bitter part!