Majestic Electric & Coffee for Two

My complete and total inability to converse with a girl I admire leaves me incapacitated. On a half-breath, zero eye contact and even times of avoidance of a general area that surrounds her, I am left null. But yes I do feel and carry the amorous feeling like something electric and it drives me and I ride it oh yes but with a forlorn silence. Though I am quiet, I am triumphant. Because of her. Whoever she may be.

So what do I do with this majestic electric?

Where does that waterfall rush over in broadcast whitewater and rave?

With my sincerity voraciously thrust forward and outward to a point because a man is made to feel king, this outpour of emotion has only a couple avenues; the girl herself not one of them, to my insecure and knowing embarrassment that I am but a fright to females as I, the jumpstart and some might say hyper romantic. Again, apologies ladies. As standing king by the apparent graces of just one girl, I lay court alone and declare the majesty in the duo of poetry or song. Love is what I got and no fair maiden stays to be queen.

So write on, sing on this caesar in the written sense, but know in truth I'm just another motley fool.

Check this, how I declare:



Coffee for Two

I'll be waiting for you
I'll be waiting for you

A once happy girl
you lost your way
In the arms of a broken charm
She did not stay

Heart still scarred
You ask that I just wait

So I'll be waiting for you
Maybe one day coffee with you

You're now back to the person
You used to be (happy)
With your girls, school and work
Your priority
Somewhere in your reset world
Please save room for me

'Cause I'll be waiting for you
We'll be having coffee for two

I know about your boy
He went did you wrong
But I'll do you right
If it's alright
You can be my world
And we'll live much more together
Be much more together

And I will wait for you
so fine to wait for that happy girl
Just find your way
Yes I'll wait then we'll get coffee girl

She Who Carries This Day

Hey Ambrosine, c'est pour vous . . .



She Who Carries This Day

The thought of you will carry my day
A kindness from your word go plus, 
Add seconds
To the mirth on a bagpipe breath, breathe in & out
And know
That it's you who -- with her own seconds -- thinks well of me

By your applause I will step witty, dance Charlestons in Paris &
Stand proud, chin up and face this world with gusto
Knowing how I know that it's you who cheers a strength
Through and through and only by your favor, I am Hercules

So Athanatos, see how I roll with that Helios on over
When you say great, darling
and like, oh darling
and smile, whoa darling
So pos[itive] I am, I'll walk this day poetically, near-immortal

Because the thought of you will carry

And on the night of this good day
When the shine you gave glows provocatively defiant in a room slept yellow
My reply will reflect how sweet I thought of you
How by your good graces, kind darling
I lived this momentous day

Hey Ambrosine

So it starts with a hey. "How have you been?" How have I been? And in these words is a call to disaster, a query with the assumption of some fantastic answer where a king is king and the kingdom he sits throne to is in peace and golden prospers, where no dragons spit fire, burning land. But 'tis a question asked in a time of ashes. How have I been?

Dear, this a truth that I do not parade, for what parade drags yards of uninflated cartoon balloons, withered roses, shattered stiltmen, kung fu dubbed-like lip sync singsongs and epileptic dance numbers? But you ask for this parade, darling, and there ain't no Santa at the end of this one; somewhere he got stuck in a notoriously unswept chimney and died from cookie malnutrition.

In the glory of your higher education and the brightside you found in life, there are others like me, who sit pale from no sun and remain dumb for not grasping $40,000 degrees.

I am. A loser.

And it's tough to tell you that outright, miss.