Jim Morrison’s Killer On The Road
I might be Jim Morrison’s
Killer on the road,
A derelict you’d like to forget,
But don’t look into my eyes,
You might become hypnotized.
You think I’m too dirty
For your side of town,
But, baby, I might be the man
Who burns you down.
I’m schizophrenic and firecracker high,
I’m not scared to live
And I’m not scared to die,
I’m carrying my pistol
And I’m carrying my knife
I’m dropping my wallet,
I don’t value this life,
I can taste blood
In the smoky air
That drifts through the night,
There’s nothing I want to see,
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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Lust Flows As Naturally As Sweat
Gazing upon the turquoise-beaded necklace
Of a dark, mysterious Turkish girl,
A man slips into mystical ancient times
Of hidden codes and long forgotten gods,
Astrological-charted paths
Of love and destiny.
The hot sun tingles on warm skin,
Lust flows as naturally as sweat
And oozes from every pore
Breathing sensual rendezvous,
Physical encounters in barely furnished rooms,
Clothing is removed and tossed
Onto simple rugs,
Then the tasting of tongues.
Orgasmic adventures amid threats
From violently plotting parents
And a jealous suitor counting the days
To receive his intended prize
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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Love Is Seemingly Out of the Question
I was very much impressed
By her floral dress
When we met
In the empty church
By the votive alter,
But I was mystified
And my soul distressed
By her pale and melancholy face;
I was certain I saw it before
In an ancient wedding
From another lifetime
Or restful in a casket.
She can’t be
What she currently pretends,
A stranger or anonymous friend
Willing to extend her thin hand
Without preconditions
Too difficult to comprehend.
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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Festival of Diana
The exquisite evening
Draped in moonlight
Was perfect
For the festival of Diana.
She brought me wine
As the revelers sang
By the ecstatically laughing riverside.
On balconies,
Barely-clad girls
Danced to flicking candlelight
In bold aesthetic innocence.
There were offerings of sweet fruit
And fragrant flowers,
The girl I loved the most,
Her lips were tender
And her hair was wet
Caressing her shoulders
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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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More Submissive
She held my hand as we climbed
The magnificent staircase of the art museum,
it was a summer holiday and we were slightly tipsy
From afternoon wine in the flower garden.
She touched my lips and spoke,
'Nothing more for you to drink,
I don't want the curator to dismiss you as a drunk
Who would fail to appreciate this sacred place
With landscapes of Delacroix and Renoir'
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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Luna, Come Out and Play
Luna, come out and play;
We’ll do everything like yesterday,
We’ll bike ride down twisting streets
Of the neighborhood.
I would always let you take the lead
In order to gaze at your shimmering ponytail.
Every slight bounce and charming sway
Felt like love.
I often wondered then
If we were not more than best friends?
In July, we would drink
Your mother’s lemonade
And get sun burnt by the pool;
I had to laugh at your kid brother
Who considered me such a fool
For never letting you out of my sight.
Meet me at the library,
We’ll sit out front on the soft grass.
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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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I Think About My Neighbor Mary
I think about Mary,
The pieces of her story
As I know it:
Her childhood streets,
The neighborhood cherry tree
She used to climb,
It should have been for fun,
Not for badly needed nourishment,
But she survived,
By strength of will,
A poisoned family life
Of shuffled homes
And ever-changing schools
With her homework assignments missed.
But Mary, did you allow yourself to cry?
Was that too much a luxury for a small girl?
Too much a luxury when your possessions
Were placed on the curbs of lonely streets
Where passersby didn’t know the children
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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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To An East Coast Poet
East coast poet,
If you have fallen, you have fallen
From a heavenly place
To bring enlightenment
To the ordinary spaces
In which mortals live
With such tenderness and longing
But for which they are lacking
The ability to adequately express
Those wondrous and life-giving emotions.
But you breathe life and hope
Into all their gentle caresses;
You illuminate the way
Little girls and mothers
Wear their dresses;
You document
The heartbreak of unkindness
And the failure of appreciation
Between people in hurtful relationships.
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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Pretty P’ing-yang
Pretty P’ing-yang, you are in England tonight
Studying international law and government,
But I remain alone in China
Draped in the soft glow of a lonely moon
With my mind swimming in a pool of dreams
While I long to be with you.
Your little brother and sister
Are proud of you,
Everyone has confidence in your endeavors,
I myself adore you
But wish we were together.
I walk everyday by the same field
Where we first kissed and the flowers blushed,
But now they weep because I’m sad.
Perhaps tonight, your English friends
Will take you to a concert or a play,
Perhaps, you will read poetry in a London bookstore,
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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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A Sullen Girl
I quietly walk immense, lonely streets
And think of a sullen girl
Whose eyes were always
Watery and sad,
Even in the absence of tears.
I recall once having held her hand
In the sunlight amid yellow flowers
And wanting to whisper something to her
That would make her smile
And forget her tragic soul
For a fleeting moment.
Some girls dress in black
And you can’t reach them with romance,
But you fall in love with them nonetheless;
The poetry of their melancholy eyes
Slips into your psyche
Like a recurring childhood dream.
She eventually gets lost somewhere
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poem by Uriah Hamilton
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