So, when I started, I didn’t mean for the poems to get the creepy stalker vibe that the were starting to get, but once I noticed it, I just kind of ran with it. I did have one poem that was not stalkerish at all and so I’ll start with that. Here is the second installment of my little lyric writing project with Brandi! (Her poems are here) The song is Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground by The White Stripes. Go listen to it if you don’t know it! It’s not stalkery, it’s actually quite sweet.

well any man with a microphone can tell you what he loves the most…

It is what they scream into the wind
when everyone is listening behind them
and can hear the echos of their heart.
It is the cause that they are married to–
the one that follows them home, and
sleeps in the bed between them and their
loving wife or their dogs or their teddy bear.

dead leaves and the dirty ground…

Bits of rotting tree,
pieces of decayed beauty:
what you mean to me.

thirty notes in the mailbox…

The definition of one who stalks:
Seeing you standing outside my window
as I open the bags of mail delivered
straight to my door, because
they wouldn’t all fit in the post box.
It’s true that you’ve been
nothing but nice in the past,
but it seems that you’ve now crossed
a line and there may be no
going back. Although, if you would deem
fit to just leave now and go home
I may not phone the authorities
and have them physically force you
to just leave me alone.

if I can just hear your pretty voice…

I sit and wait with my ear pressed to the door
the trilling notes of your laughter
filter out into the night and fill me,
wrap me in warmth, just like all the times before.

If only you knew I was here waiting,
(and that I had chocolate and
That I had lemon pie)
chained to your stoop my love not abating.

Even though for weeks now I’ve sat and I’ve tried,
I just can’t leave my spot on the ground.
You’re such a cruel mistress,
and yet I keep waiting until my love is no longer denied.

soft hair and a velvet tongue…

smooth as silk
and scorches like fire
everything about
her every little thing
and then she looks
my way and I am
hopelessly lost
completely tied up
in iron knots
tied to her
held fast in her grip
although it is
just me in this tryst
she doesn’t see me
doesn’t know me doesn’t
notice me standing
next to her
while she sips
her coffee and carries
home her groceries