"Comeback Reason"
Season of forever
and together.
Time where promises
consist of nevers
that are never said.
Officially unofficial
so it remains superficial.
Months where the cold bed
finds occupants aplenty.
Gently courting fabric and down
until one is swiftly
"locked down"
and taken out of the running.
Running away in due time.
Due favor for labor
once considered appreciated.
We hated what we've become
but found ourselves proud of the reminisces.
The recollection of kisses.
Boundless promises.
Fond acknowledgements
that often sting to remember.
Nights in December
when we would flaunt and frolic;
broadcasting to the world
what they never cared to know.
We would show them every crease
that we neglected to address;
be it my three piece
or your black dress.
Memories of sex
finer than my favorite liquor.
Forgiver of certain transgressions
and forgetter of most lessons
that aim to abstain
from another ride
on the train to perdition:
A selfish mission
filled with hot nights,
rough fights,
dim lights
and the longest days
in a myriad of ways
that turn my stomach as I digest....
.......I digress.....
Season of greed
where the want
overlaps need.
The seed planted among the envious.
Enchantment in the draw
strong enough to hide the flaw
and focus on instantaneous.
Extraneous at the core
but no matter
for in these days.....
.................months,
we want more
and more
and more still.
More thrill.
Less contingency.
More frills.
Less latency.
Season where "wait for me"
is all but nonexistent.
The persistent
insist with earnest
that they've earned this encounter.
Count her among the rest
if that is the best you could hope for.
If so,
what would you waste hope for?
~ Society Of Poets ~
~ 30 ~
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
"Torrential"
Object of my perversion.
Might incite some dispersion.
Tongue in cheek.
Sprung a leak
now I look for diversions.
Not like the subtle version.
My methods proven simple.
We flirt awhile,
I trace that smile
and compliment those dimples.
Gentle as Gentile
without pagan sensibilities.
Obscenities in slight
at the sight of
what I'd love to fondle.
Handle me like handles
channeled through tight grips.
More friction as hands slip;
twisting like knobs.
Throbbing prosperously...
...sloppily through slobber...
...reaching for control
as if to reap my very soul away.
Staying long enough
to make the mess substantial
and get creative with cleanliness.
Silliness a sign
of a benign façade
grinding away at the chance
to become less formal
and much more freelance.
Thoughts dance in trance.
Your stance on the matter
puzzling at first.
Now,
we guzzle from thirst
we've yet to request fully quenched.
The smell.
The stench.
Appetizing
and
Savory
like
gravy.
Eyes squint
and
Thighs clench
close enough to drown me.
Navigating mystic rivers.
Ignoring the shore
and taking on more water.
Harder to swim away from
given the sum of slow indulgences
experienced in increasing intensity.
Given my propensity,
the sky will part when you send for me.
~ Society Of Poets ~
~ 30 ~
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
"Envisioned In Sepia"
Those eyes....
Sunrise.
Some times I wonder
why your mornings
are so hazy.
Everyone gets lazy
but your disposition is...
........initially dormant.
Informed and abreast
of your best efforts
to hide the worst
of your occurrences,
I burn away
until you let down your
fortification.
The sensation felt before touching.
Rushing warmer through me
than the blood in my veins.
Linked by chains
of mutually desired contact,
I long to preserve
what you cannot keep intact
on your own
So you can zone in
if you wish
and create diversions
and hope for aversion
like how
those eyes.....
Sunset.
Dead set.
Locked on mine.
So careful,
those eyes
as they hold me
closely
guiding me to thighs
as smooth as light's embrace
before it retires for the night.
Slowly dimming light
in peach, grey,
grape and amber colors
bouncing softly against skin
I've only imagined between internal lecture.....
.......effective in conjecture
but not enough to dash concern.
I aim to learn;
not just earn the right.
Your stare tells stories
of fights you've waged forever.
Hard plastic,
metal frame,
all the same.
Masks woven in
silk
or leather
whether it remains
is of no discern to me.
You cannot hide what you are to be.
So look at me.
Don't shy away.
I won't pry away
but I will try each day
until I see
those eyes....
That perfectly smoky,
dreary disposition,
eyes fully focused
yet not ambitiously locked
on anything more
than what endears you to them.
Eyes that lead mine to
lips as complimentary.
Very standalone.
Lips that refuse to part
to acknowledge the world
swirling in madness around you.
Those who've never found you
would not appreciate the search.
Upon this bedside I am perched.
Not nervous. Very certain
next to curtains billowing
between air as crisp as winter.
You've filtered everything
I've paid a degree of interest to
and offered me a stare.
A glare between blinks
where I wouldn't dare think
to do look away this day
Or another, should I be so wise
to cherish time lost
in those eyes....
~ Society Of Poets ~
~ 30 ~
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
"Cornerstone Kettle"
I used to miss the feeling.
Another cup.
Darjeeling....
Some things are worth revealing
only when we let it be.
You thrive on stints of action.
That one knee jerk reaction
that puts on a show
for all you know
and everyone else to see.
I'd rather sip this tea.
I'll take time
as long as it is being offered.
Harbored some concern
for your deliberate discernment.
In turn,
the perceived oblivious me
was not initially at liberty
to do anything about
your siding with determent.
Determined against my own.
Would challenge my tone
as if I emerged from your loins.
Going
because staying
may incur the stains
that this lifetime can't wipe clean.
How obscene
to believe you have dominion
with a few opinions
and a lot less influence?
You speak out of rhythm fluently.
My truancy
will accompany dismay
for on this day,
I will not wait for YOUR outcome.
You've outrun your help.
Even yourself as you breathe deep.
You wouldn't crawl
and I no longer creep.
Oh yes...
...I used to miss the feeling.
I used to
but there's nothing left
that is worth revealing.
We're years past repealing
and much of it
isn't worth dealing with
so I'll sit here
and I'll ponder
while your heart flails
and you flounder about
wondering how I've found
the way out from it all.
How to silence every call.
How to land if I should fall.
You will acknowledge secrecy.
You will hate that facing me
will imbue my latency.
Pour yourself a cup of tea.
~ Society Of Poets ~
~ 30 ~
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
"Sanctuary"
You should've noticed.
Be sure to notice me....
Peruse.
Find the clues.
Solve the mystery.
Imagery predetermined and forged.
I want you to gorge
on everything that I do.
Won't have the time
to walk you in direction
so follow instructions.
Construction of the pander
circling your everyday planner.
Scanner of your means
lining your jeans with my errands.
You should notice.
Don't divert your focus
from me.
I am all that you see.
I am all you desire.
I the wick and the fire.
You extinguished in dereliction.
You need me for protection.
Keyed in on your inflection
and noted your confusion.
You're delusional.
I your working clarity.
Nothing makeshift.
Nothing breaks quick
once applied.
All allied against my plans for you
I will subdue
and neutralize
before I order you to
sanitize.
Purge them of their hope
and their courage.
Should I be lost,
then rummage through
their pockets.
Sell the trinkets.
Pawn the locket.
I'm high on your ledger
and your docket.
Don't you drop it!!!!
More precious than gold.
The pressure so bold
to meet sufficiency
so tread with great efficiency
when carrying out my tasks.
Be it the pipe
or blunt
or needle
or flask,
I won't ask
and I won't leave you.
You depend on me
but let's pretend:
"I Need You."
......you should've noticed......
~ Society Of Poets ~
~30 ~
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
"The Established"
Let's be clear
and let's be here
because it's hard
to see through the distance.
Pretty dark
and
pretty awkward
when it isn't pretty
and we're just not ready
and we become petty
and take stabs
in that darkness.
Torn apart from
what we will not part with
so we start shit
and disparage the finisher.
Listeners of little
lost to thoughts so simple
there aren't enough
to fill the complex
and we just don't
feel the context.
We have no clue.
Don't know what's due.
Can't match this hue
Can't do much more
with the store closed.
Always thought about the day
I'd have to store clothes.
Thank God that container is still empty.
I observe all who envy
and really wonder why
they tend to covet this life.
Doesn't mean it's all great
or they won't get their fair shake
but the brakes will not break you.
They may take you
through more time than anticipated
but what runs rampant
is a lot less enchanted
and extremely antiquated.
If not regulated,
You
not time
should be sedated.
Dedicated to the process
of no expedited progress
lest I wish to fully digress
and miss it all
with no one to call.
~ Society Of Poets ~
~ 30 ~
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
"Cacao"
I'm just not that curious.
Why are you so serious?
Mysterious on motives
but hesitant to start the show
saying
you know how it goes
and you know that they'll go
regardless.
Regard less self
and consider the masses.
The mask just
worn long enough
to deceive.
Leave
and no one follows.
Dare you be so hollow
to believe people will swallow
just because you break some bread?
There is no instead
unless it befits your benefit.
Finished it barely.
Mentioned it scarcely
until it appears one may oppose.
How comfortable in your clothes
would you admit you are?
How far is the levity?
Is it truly therapy
to be the eye of the storm?
Is sarcasm your norm?
Do you long for your equal?
Have you undergone the sequel
to your after school drama?
No doubt you've pondered none of this.
At the most,
very little
but if you pride yourself
on being bitter,
don't offer any of the brittle....
~ Society Of Poets ~
~ 30 ~
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
"The Applied Implied"
I'm dealing with my complacence.
The priorities are outlined
but I am nowhere adjacent....
Opportunity is there.
So close I swear I can taste it.
It would kill me to waste it
but I may die before I face it.
I am
the one event
that is hard to forget.
A spectacle receptacle
still siphoning regret
and with this admission,
I weather the attention
and field the calls
but when it stalls,
it all feels like detention.
I'm nowhere near the child of light.
I still fight for ascension
but if I'm judged
based on my effort,
I can't hide my remission.
There's a lot there.
Call it an empty plot
where
I place plans I never follow,
hopes I've left sullen and hollow,
and pills I have yet to swallow
because I'm afraid of that.
There's no replacing that
lack of accomplishment
especially when acknowledgement
I accept as if I've earned it.
I've learned a lot
to say I've learned nothing.
Bridges burned as I've spurned
on procrastination.
The acclamation embarrassing.
My potential can carry me
only as far as charity
and so few will feel sorry.
Lauded hardly in deserving fashion.
Imagine the traction
of searching for distractions
while the world around you
elicits reaction
to things I pretend to achieve.
There is no reprieve
when your dream
is to scheme
and the outcome
you are far from
while holding it in your hands.
Much of it I can't stand
yet much of it I exalt.
So much of it in my hands.
So much of it is my fault.
~ Society Of Poets ~
~ 30 ~
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
"Black Mist"
Risky
Whiskey
Miss me with
that missing business.
That
"won't you give this
another chance?"
This
time that we have
you
mention rehab
like
we have some sort
of issue or illness.
Will this
keep me in your company?
Do you
seek to comfort me
or just quench your conscience?
This subconscious a swirling blur.
I hear the slurs.
I feel the murmurs.
In passing time,
I've learned to
nurture this bottle
dormant or throttled
followed by another.
Letters from my mother
and a brother I seldom speak to
who tells his kids
"I keep you
away
because he's an
unstable alcoholic."
Called it
a "condition"
befitting the remission
that I'm told
has become a pattern.
So Risky
This Whiskey...
...my crutch.
My wheelchair.
With it I feel fair.
Without I'm impaired.
I can't fare.
I don't care
I
won't
care
about embarrassment.
This
80 Proof establishment within me
befriends me.
It
absolves the loneliness.
Only this.
A love that won't last
running fast enough
for me to
snatch
and
steal
and
grab enough
to get it back.
GIVE IT BACK!!
WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT?!
You had to fight?
Stayed up at night?
Your sheets are white.
Mine filthy.
Time is wilting.
I feel guilty
but will admit no weakness.
I
need....
...........
...... this...
.......this whiskey....
......... so risky.
I miss.....
.............
.........me.
~ Society Of Poets ~
~ 30 ~
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
