She's A Little Raver

'She's a little raver,' he said to her that day,
She looked into his eyes and smiled - he knew her right away.
Just like in his heady youth, Little Raver dug the dream,
Little Raver was an old-fashioned girl,
Thought 'kids aren't what they used to be!'

You see, Little Raver loved Vespas and vinyl,
The finer things of days gone by,
So when she moved to Liverpool, her lifestyle was finalised!

Little Raver got mad when people asked her 'So, you like techno, then?'
She was not that kind of raver - for her, no alcohol, strobe and strange men.
She was more a Northern Soul girl (not that modern kids knew about that),
She loved Merseybeat music, had old band posters in her flat,
She loved Gerry & The Pacemakers - for her, that's where it's at!

The mod scene was her calling, hanging with those crazy cats,
So don't call her a 'new' raver, or her Vespa will knock you flat!

Crying Because I'm Stupid.

It's midnight, and I'm crying because I'm stupid.

Crying hot, fat tears

because you have left a mark upon my heart.



I'm crying because I'm stupid

for knowing little about you,

I'm crying because I'm too shy to ask questions.



I think about you often, think all sorts of crazy things,

my mind a lovesick teenager,

imagining love and golden rings.



My eyes are sore now.

I'm still crying because it's too hard to stop.



I don't know what you think of me,

Don't know what it is you see

when you see my face, read my words.



I'm crying because I'm stupid,

I don't know what else to do.



I'm crying because I'm stupid,

Stupidly in love with you.

More.

We see you every day;
Flat images, captured moments -
But nothing can compare to really seeing you.
If eyes could sweat, they would be doing so now,
As you make your way through the long, large crowd;
Our bodies shake, some make their home on the floor,
We want to scream, but we know you're worth more
than snapping vocal chords, watery eyes,
So much more that when we see you, we feel like we've died
and gone up to Heaven while your holy face
Stares down at us and you smile that smile, the one we love;
This moment, though brief, is everything we hoped,
Everything we could have dreamed and more.
Heads spin, pulled in
By your Vortex.
We're caught by your gravitational pull,
Revolving around your very own Sun,
Because you are more.

Dreams and hopes pale and die
When we finally get the chance to look into your eyes;
No description, no name or price
Could be put to this vision at all -
You are more.

Cameras wield in front of you,
And now we can hold you (in a way),
Our skin against yours sends a rush through our veins.
We capture you there with us, just for one moment;
One moment that was so much more.

We leave with a story that will become legend,
A mental movie reel,
A cerebral novel;
Emotions we will always feel.
The day we saw you,
Heard you,
Knew you,
Just for one moment.
The one moment we knew you were more.

Way Back When

Sit with me tonight

and tell me what's on your mind,

Tell me all the things we said

way back when.

Did you ever love me at all?

Was it right for me to fall,

and did you swap love for fame

way back when?

Will things ever be the same

now you've made yourself a name?

Could we ever be again

the way we were back then?

What I'd Give (A Picture Challenge Poem)

Soulful eyes, entrancing pools of grey,
How unfair is this little game you play -
The stare that launched a thousand sighs
is in full force in your gorgeous eyes -
What I'd give to have them fall on me.

Sun-kissed skin and tousled hair,
What makes you special and so rare
is the way you look so very good,
the way you look as perfection should -
What I'd give to be right with you there;
to feel your skin on mine.
What I'd give to sit by some shaded tree
with you, a content and loving stare
penetrating into me as I lazily, softly
play with your hair.

Lips so soft, tempting and sweet;
no wonder women fall at your feet!
And yet you are unaware of what you do -
tongue running over your lips rapidly,
the way you bite your bottom lip
is more than enough to make me slip
gladly into insanity, happily into ecstasy;
What I'd give to have your lips on me.
But alas, this can not ever be -
simply because you don't know me.
Sweet thoughts these are, but sad ones too,
What I'd give for these sweet thoughts to come true!

Special Places

This Laurel Canyon bed's not the same without you in it,
Till you come home, yeah, I'm counting every minute.
Don't know how I manage to keep it together,
Because my world revolves around you.
So I'll sit here waiting until you touch down
And I can hold you again.

Memories of you are all I can hold onto
Until you come back home to me.
So I'll picture all of the things we've done together,
Think of the places we've been,
The things that mean so much to me;
Our special places.

It's late and I'm tired, I answer the phone -
You called to tell me goodnight,
I tell you I love you, I tell you I miss you,
You laugh and tell me the same.
I miss the warmth of your body against me,
But all I can do now is wait.

Memories of you are all I can hold onto
Until you come back home to me.
So I'll picture all of the things we've done together,
Think of the places we've been,
The things that mean so much to me;
Our special places.

Oh, I'm so tired of all this distance between us -
It kills me.
But I will stay strong, and I will hold on,
Because I know that you'll be back soon.

Staring out windows and looking in doorways
I hope somehow to find you there.
Next time you call me, you're letting me know that you're days away from here,
The hardest part's over, the waiting is through, now I can almost see you
So baby, until I do

Memories of you are all I can hold onto
Until you come back home to me.
So I'll picture all of the things we've done together,
Think of the places we've been,
The things that mean so much to me;
Our special places.
Babe, please come back home soon
to me and our special places.

Nuts Girl

The first night that I met you, you had saltines in your hair,
You were really pretty drunk, but I just didn't care.
Little did I know you'd be the one I can't forget.
I'm in a mess - but I'll be the one that you'll always adore,
Be the one that you've been waiting for (right at your door)

Welcome to the crazy,
You said "come on boy, just take me! I'm your Nuts Girl."
Whatever life throws at me, know that I'll always be happy
'cause I'll have my Nuts Girl.
You know you'll always be my Nuts Girl.

Age is just a number,
As far as I can tell we're having fun
Why should that matter in the long-run?
If we're both happy then they should just let us be.

Welcome to the crazy,
You said "come on boy, just take me! I'm your Nuts Girl."
Whatever life throws at me, know that I'll always be happy
'cause I'll have my Nuts Girl.
You know you'll always be my Nuts Girl.

You said our life's a movie, well I tell you girl, you move me!
You don't need diamonds and rubies 'cause your so refined
and I'm so glad you're mine.
We're gonna stick together, come through any kind of weather,
Given time I know that we'll be fine.

Welcome to the crazy,
You said "come on boy, just take me! I'm your Nuts Girl."
Whatever life throws at me, know that I'll always be happy
'cause I'll have my Nuts Girl.
You know you'll always be my Nuts Girl.

Anticipation

This waiting game is so unfair,
You're running here and running there,
So much time I have to spend
dreaming until the day's end
of having you back here again,
but you are miles away.

On April 17th, my love,
you'll be in New York City -
what a pity!
For there is no way I could be
with you that day in NYC,
I'm scared of flying and don't have enough money
or time to take me there.
I don't care.
I'll watch and wait for photos of you
and wait until the glorious day
when you are back on home ground,
when I can feel nearer to you.

May 3rd will be that fateful day,
May 4th we'll be even closer
as I make my way into the dark cinema
and smile at the sight of your poster.
The movie will start and I'll feel so proud,
watching you prove people wrong,
That night, I'll come away happy, content
that I could see you again,
Even though really in my heart I know
we were never really together.
The thing is, you see,
knowing that won't stop me
from loving you forever.

Jacob

I: The Path

He, at such a tender age,
walked the path which paved the way
for many things;
Some great, some sad, some things for the best
and some for the worst.
Alas, his praises nobody sings.

He watched her every day in class,
frustrated and filled with desire,
His young heart knew not of what lay ahead,
His imminent baptism of fire.

A determined and strong young man was he,
Aware of his hopes and his fears,
as any gentleman should be.
He had knowledge beyond that of his years.

He knew of his main aim in life,
His career was perfectly mapped,
He would work hard, and he would strive
to keep his father's dream alive
and take over the family business.
However, at college, he felt he was trapped.
Trapped in a room, knee to knee with temptation,
Trapped in a room full of high expectation.
No, nobody sung his praises,
so he never thought he'd do any good,
not even she sung his praises,
but he still loved her as much as he could.

The path stretched out far ahead of him,
Stretched away to a life yet unknown,
And he walked on and on, right down it,
to his future - his hopes, his fears and his dreams.

II: The Struggle

That day started like any other - birds were singing high up in the trees,
The sun beat down warm on his shoulders, and his love was all he could see.
He knew not of just what lay ahead of him
that glorious, bright sunny day;
He knew not of the grief and despair lying dormant in his lecturer's chest,
Knew not of the things he would say
That would shake him, change his world forever.

He never expected that day to be taken aside,
His books and his dreams lying scattered as he cried
and learned of the terrible way his parents died.

A simple drive in the country had taken a turn for the worse,
and now all he could do on hearing the news was curse
everything he had,
all he knew,
what he wanted and loved.

Blinded by grief, he ran,
Knowing not just where he was bound,
Then by chance, on the first train he found
he jumped.
Whatever it was he was hoping to find
by boarding that train that day is unknown,
But it is certain he wanted to leave his old life behind,
and start anew in some fresh, green wondrous land.

He wasn't alone on the train that day;
Two other passengers kept him company
and finally told him just where he was headed -
The Benzini Brothers Most Spectacular Show On Earth
was to be his new home.
It was certain, then, that he would not be alone.
Perhaps the struggle to grasp his parents' death,
his thoughtless escape
had all been for the best - perhaps the circus would bring him new hope,
distract him enough, with its mirrors and smoke
for him to truly start again.
Perhaps, he thought, I'll fall under the circus's spell.
Perhaps, he thought, as the train came on home, only time will tell.

III: Destiny

The young man was shunned by the kinkers at first,
left by the wayside, thrown in with the worst of the lot -
but he knew, and Marlena did, too, that he was a good young man.

Marlena, the Ringmaster August's wife,
Her mature beauty, her zest for life
caught his attention and he fell in deep.
Forbidden love, he thought, is best,
Yet it is such a torment, he never could rest
for thinking about her.
But she was not his.
She could not be his.
She somehow would be his.

Once he had settled in, he met Rosie.
He fell in love, now two had his heart in their grasp.
She loved him so much that she obeyed him faithfully
as he stroked her side and made commands in Polish -
he never once felt silly, never once felt a fool
for loving this pachyderm,
nor for harbouring a love so cruel
for his fair, sweet and dear Marlena.
His Marlena who was not his at all.
This, he thought, would not stop the fall.
August, he knew, did not like him much,
He knew that August knew his every move,
His every thought and his longing to touch
His Marlena
Without a word ever having passed between them.
August was cold, he knew of the freedom
Jacob and Marlena could have if he surrendered her to him.
But he could not - he was too proud of her,
She was his trophy, along with the show,
All this gave him power and status - she could never go;
August had a life far too good to leave.
Marlena, however, vehemently disagreed.
August could see this too - her love for Jacob.
The connection between the two was magnetic,
Compared to her love for Jacob, what she felt for August was pathetic.

Overcome with rage and confusion, August fought Jacob,
threatened him with death,
but Jacob retaliated just as well - he well and truly put August through hell
by stealing his woman and charming her easily,
leaving August powerless.

Later, after Marlena took her leave,
The two shared a tender night in a hotel,
cementing their love and their extraordinary tale.
After that night, they agreed, they would run;
By morning they would have a new life in the sun
and the green of the quaint New York countryside.
So they ran, and they married, made many a child
and lived in their wonderful postcard bliss,
Not one hint of remorse in each loving kiss.

Now, old and frail, he should not have been
so mad as to run away again - he was sick of the way things were;
so plain, formulaic, so much time to spare
when he could be doing what he really loved.
Marlena had gone, his children had grown,
now, he thought, since I am so alone,
Ringling called to him - he was young again.
Defiant, he looked up at the tall circus tent
"Why the hell shouldn't I run away with the circus?!"
Doubt quickly came and went.
So he, now ninety - or ninety-three - once again joined the circus;
for one final time, he fulfilled his destiny.

The Voice

A voice can do many things, be many things.
But your voice is unique - when you speak, you don't talk -
you sing.

Yours is the voice that can move me to tears,
Yours is the voice that can bring to the surface
all of my fears
And then quell them again.

Yours is the voice that is gentle and kind,
Yours is the voice that plays on in my mind
like a stuck record which I don't want to stop.

Yours is the voice that alleviates pressure,
Yours is the voice that can make me feel special
Even though I know you aren't speaking to me.

That voice of yours can make my heart stop,
It flutters and leaps, when every word leaks
from your perfect mouth.

Your voice can soothe me in the dark of night,
Your voice turns my life's wrongs to rights,
With each silken syllable your perfect mouth frames,
I long to see, long to hear you speak my name.

Your voice, for me, is a shoulder to cry on,
Your voice is one which I can rely on.

To fall so in love with a voice seems insane,
With your face, I'm in love -
Your personality, too;
but neither of these are the same.
I could look on your face,
listen to your voice all day,
Your face shows the outward sign of beauty,
But your voice really proves that it is your duty
To be exactly the kind man you are;
You won't change for anyone,
and that, amongst many other things, I admire.

Maroon (A picture challenge poem)

On you we have seen many colours -
some traditional, black and midnight blue -
but this time, everything's different;
you've stepped out wearing maroon.

Something about this drives us wild,
perhaps because it is new?
Whatever it is, we don't really care,
in our heads, we're ripping it off you!

There may be two others beside you
as you walk the red carpet tonight,
But our tunnel-vision blocks them out,
we seek you out and watch you all night.

There's something about the maroon on you
that emphasises your eyes,
that makes your hair seem lighter;
we notice this and contentedly sigh.

Such minute details, like the colour of your shirt, suit and tie
are locked away in our brains
So that when you step out at another event,
we can share, compare and complain.

There's something different about you in maroon
that changes your face and your ways.
Perhaps it makes you bolder?
Your cheeky press answers stay with us for days!

One thing we do know of you and maroon;
the two go together well.
And no matter what colour your suit and tie,
you will always make our loving hearts swell!

An Ode to RAoR

Oh RAoR, you brighten up my life,
Oh, how you make me laugh
with each innuendo and euphemism
thrown out at the sight of each new photograph!

JAG runs the blog with such power and ease,
TessAnz, shares her poetry skills,
And let's not forget Liz, Deb, Scilla and Smitt
whose smutty wisdom always serves to please!

I believe that here on RAoR, my best days so far have been spent,
and I can tell you now with utmost confidence - each sin I've confessed?
I don't wish to repent!

Vana, you said you were "just Dutch and stupid!"
but we know that really, you're smart,
And RDM and our Jolori - each new edit you bring touches all of our hearts!

May these happy days continue;
Women brought together by love for one man,
As long as they do, I know I'll muddle through
whenever RL hits the fan!

And maybe some time in the future,
when our daughters and granddaughters are born,
We'll have started a new generation of H00rs and Angelz
searching for and borrowing RobPorn!

Louisiana

It is a quiet, cool evening in Louisiana.
Far away from the houses
full of families huddled round TV sets,
the loud click of a camera shutter
breaks the silence.

Each click pierces the air like a bullet.
Each movement of the photographer and her subject in the wind
happens just as swiftly.
Just because the photographer does not feel
what thousands of other women feel for her subject
does not mean she does not understand it,
know it,
see it;
It does not mean she cannot manipulate her subject
to shoot a thousand women's dreams in one double-page spread.
She can.

With the next click, she captures him - tall, windswept and handsome
in damnable tight black pants and an even tighter black shirt.
With this click, the sound is not the familiar mechanic clap -
It is a thousand sighs.
The wind rustling through his hair is a thousand hands
wishing to touch him.
The watchful eyes of his bodyguard are not just his own,
they are his fans - watching, waiting with baited breath,
ready to pounce, to save and protect.

The Louisiana air is cooler now, the sky beginning to pale,
but still the subject poses, calm and patient.
Somewhere on a blog, these scenes are posted.
Women gather on forums, guessing the temperature, time;
making cleverly disguised innuendoes
and trying to fathom whether or not
you can see his nipples through his shirt.
Each click and zoom of the photographer's lens
corresponds to a click and zoom of the photos on the blog.
The photos aren't even official, and already have caught so much attention.

Typical.

As the shoot draws to a close, and everyone heads for home,
the subject - now in a white shirt, black jacket and Ray-Bans,
looking good enough to trigger worldwide sin - is herded by his bodyguard to his car.
The driver begins to morph into each and every female entranced by him.
Their subconscious fools them,
satisfies them,
with the thought that they alone
are taking him home;
One photographer,
One man,
One day in Louisiana
was enough to launch a million fantasies.
With a smirk, the photographer leans back in her seat.
She knows what she has done.
"Just wait," she thinks as the car drives away "until the official photos are released."

Grace Under Pressure

You never ask too much, and you say not much is ever asked of you,
You find it completely remarkable that so many have interest in all you do.
The sea of screaming faces, set like a painting on the screen, with you standing before them,
Smiling, unnerved and serene,
is truly a sight to see.

Breathtaking, so painfully handsome - though you shake your head and deny
that any woman should justly lay her eye on you - one can understand just why
you require so much protection. Imagine the uproar if one should ever dent perfection!
These things do not bother you,
for you are selfless, pure and true, and though you'd plead this not the case,
to gaze upon your heaven-sculpted face conjures only maddening love.
To gaze upon your captured repose, and take in every feature up close
causes many a sleepless night.

Then, to hear that silken voice, examine every gesture,
To see how you think, feel and speak,
To feel as though you speak and look solely upon us,
provides a kind of unknown pleasure,
So we keep your face, your voice and gestures
locked within our minds like treasures
waiting to be found again, and used in hours of daily leisure,
when thinking of you is not forbidden, when thinking of you
makes us free.

It's times like this one wishes you could see
the love that is felt so endlessly by those whose lives you enrich.
The most remarkable thing of all about you is not what you do,
but who you are.
It doesn't matter what others see, what others try to make us read -
we know it is just like he said; we know that, by all means and measures,
you are the epitome of grace under pressure.

Reasons I Can't Stand You

I can't stand the sight of your handsome face.

I can't stand the way you fill up every space
in my mind.

I can't stand that fact that, time after time,
I have to come to terms with the fact you're not mine.

I can't stand the fact that when you're away,
I imagine your voice - all the things you would say.

I can't stand the fact I don't know you at all,
But I really can't stand that I love you, most of all.

Golden

Look at you now, you're a big movie star
And you pull up outside in your expensive car.
Years ago, you wouldn't have fit with this crowd,
but now look at you - you're the man of the hour.

And when the light shines down on you, it's golden,
And though we think that we know you, we just don't -
When you smile, we go weak, and it's so hard to speak;
But still the light shines on you, and you're golden.

With just one glimpse of that face, that suit,
Thousands of women want to bear your fruit.
It's truly an amazing sight to see;
One man so loved, as would be a deity.

And when the light shines down on you, it's golden,
And though we think that we know you, we just don't -
When you smile, we go weak, and it's so hard to speak;
But still the light shines on you, and you're golden.

In times of trouble, we mutter your name,
Turning to you and using your fame,
To bring you to us, let you heal us again;
There's no doubt, we're obsessed, but we feel no shame.

And when the light shines down on you, it's golden,
And though we think that we know you, we just don't -
When you smile, we go weak, and it's so hard to speak;
But still the light shines on you, and you're golden.

To Feel

Sitting here in this darkened place,
I search, longing to see your name, your face,
To feel you here again.

It's been so long, I'm counting the days
and missing you in all these ways
I never knew you could miss someone;
I guess I should have known
That I'd be sitting here one day,
Waiting,
Hoping,
To feel you here again.

The worst part is that nothing
seems to work.
Nothing seems to bring you back.
I sigh and plunge my head in my hands
As I realise, irked,
that for you, I have lost
the ability to feel.

For now.

One Of Those Days

Wake up, get dressed, work away;
The dark clouds tell me it's 'one of those days' -
One of those days where time will pass slowly,
One of those days where I feel no-one knows me.
Maybe nobody does.

I don't know
If there's anything about myself I love,
If there's anything about me someone else loves,
All I can see is a big tub of flaws;
No life in my eyes,
No spring in my step,
No colour in my face;
I stood there, observing the blurry blob
that was trying to convince me it was my reflection
and wept.

Every day now seems more boring than the last,
Why on earth can't time just pass by very fast?!
Maybe in time, I'll stop picking apart
all of the things that I think are wrong -
and I'll realise what really matters is my heart -
to err is human, or so they say.
I know that I won't always stay this way.
All my insecurities will just fall away,
and I'll no longer be,
perpetually,
in 'one of those days'.

Failed.

I enter the room, prepped and ready to blow this thing out of the water.
Sitting down, I tap my pen on the desk
and stare blankly at the paper.

“Oh crap.” I think, as I realise that I ought to
Have some sort of thoughts swirling round in my head.
Eventually, when I have harnessed the ability to think at such an early hour,
All I can think of is a few vague ideas –
And then Vic Reeves belting out the Star Trek theme, spinning Liz McClarnon round
and showing her a quid.

Scrunching my eyes, my mind begins to skid
to a halt.
Now, the only thing I can think of is the awful pain in my head,
And the colours that dance on the paper, on the walls, on the floor.
“No more!” I inwardly scream, as if the pain were a small man inside my head that could hear me begging him to move out and find somewhere else to live.

Fat chance.

I end up outside, pinching the bridge of my nose
in an attempt to wave the colourful parade off home.
It is at this point that I realise – I’ve failed.

Distractions

This modern life
is full of distractions -
We feel we must stay in to watch a bunch of fame-hungry idiots
exposing themselves in our homes. We feel we must have every gadget going
to make us happy, to satisfy our own selfish needs,
to take our minds off the banalities of daily life; to make us free.

Well then, call me traditional - I don't really see
Why I could possibly need "the new Blackberry 3!" (or whatever it's called) to distract me.

Call me old-fashioned, because when I need a distraction;
I close my eyes.
Engage my mind.
And think of you.

Take It Down

Oh, there you go again – moving unaware,
And I sit here waiting, even though you’ll never come (whoa).
So, in my mind, I’m hating you,
But it’s so hard ‘cause I love you, and I know I’m too far gone.

This picture of you keeps getting into my head,
And all the things that you said, they haunt me.
Oh, this picture of you – you don’t know what you do;
It’s controlling me, so I’ll take it down.
You’re controlling me, so I’ll take you down,
I’ll take you down.

Sometimes, I wish that I had never met you
Because of all the things you do to me (inside).
But now that I can’t forget you, I’ll just have to accept that you’re a part of me
And get myself together,
But I can’t.

Because this picture of you keeps getting into my head,
And all the things that you said, they haunt me.
Oh, this picture of you – how can I pull through when it’s controlling me?
I’ll have to take it down.
You’re controlling me, so I’ll take you down,
You know I’ll take you down.

Really, it’s mind over matter –
So why should you really matter so much to me?
Leaving you tears me up inside,
Someone kick me off this ride
‘cause I do love you (even though I shouldn’t).

This picture of you keeps getting into my head,
And all the things that you said, they haunt me.
Oh, this picture of you – you don’t know what you do;
It’s controlling me, so I’ll take it down.
You’re controlling me, so I’ll take you down,
I’ll take you; this picture of you keeps getting into my head,
And all the things that you said, they haunt me.
Oh, this picture of you – how can I pull through when it’s controlling me?
I’ll have to take it down.
You’re controlling me, so I’ll take you down,
Though I don’t want to, I’ll have to take you down.
I’m gonna take you (down).

The Space Cadet

“Your face is purple and you speak yellow.” She said.
I laughed and shook my head.

“How can someone speak yellow?” I asked, intrigued –
and she simply looked at me, face deep in thought.
“I don’t know.”
I laughed again, and sighed.

“You’re mad.” I said.
This time she shook her head.
“I don’t understand your world.” She said,
and laughed.
I smiled and asked “How so?”
She said again “Oh, I don’t know. “
She paused and said, “You’re such a realist!”
Shrugging, I replied, “I guess. You are mad though. But it could be worse…”
She gathered her things and was ready to go –
Then, turning to me, she said “worse, how?”
I told her “Well, I’m married with kids!”

Then we both laughed and walked away.

This has been another day,
in which the Space Cadets have boldly gone
where no-one
even
remotely
sane
would dare to play.