Motionless from the view of your soul,
disguised in pain, waiting for the knock
of my heart at your door.

Should you open – I might listen
to your stories, if you listen to mine
we can put this world to right.

How romantic it sounds: naked love,
a timeless collapse of you and me
indefinite in a wild undercurrent.

-L.J. Lenehan

4660151b791f1603d6a0edac9b054b75

Longevity is fated

pizzaIt’s late, my head throbs,
your face has drained of colour,
if only, I could rest my head –
you might believe for a while
I always loved you.

Problems faded away at your death bed,
all I could remember was, for better or worse,
you joked, I’m here for the better,
I laughed, not knowing worse would be a frequenter.
I’m tired now, but promises from the start

remind us both – till death do we part,
suspicions aside, there is no denying
longevity is fated with an end in everything
if there has been no ending, it is in fact,
not over.

-L.J. Lenehan-

The Lover’s Struggle

Inside the cold lips of women
exists a defining cliché,
that creates a quivering ache,
seducing personal confusion
in to the flames of fire.

Consumed by a sophisticated
aftertaste that lingers –
inside the mind
of the ones left behind,
where messages of love

should be penned, instead
of political condolences
contrived to ease personal
struggle that might lead
to the creation of poetry.

-L.J. Lenehan-
images (2)

One

Our unlit love
hidden in a battlefield
of intolerable uncertainty.

Where sexuality
intertwines our souls
absconding from

masculine or feminine
emerging from near destruction
to that which is untouchable.

Our love, unlit, unseen, unreplicable,
it is in the air, where we consumed each other,
to become one.

-L.J. Lenehan-

Photo by: http://www.johnmanganphotography.com/
1907602_720304281327583_886052407_n

This Zen Kitchen

The steam sings, in this Zen kitchen,
rising over evening potatoes,
in between the cooking and cleaning

today’s problems repeat in my head –
their theme stuck in a quandary,
cookhouse pandemonium reminds me, chicken is done,

ironing board, needle work
babies at my feet – where did they go?
Substantial people replace them

and now, they wander in my temple
for validation, nursemaid and counsellor
how tiring – this Zen kitchen

where damage from intent is permanent
‘fuck you’ stains the wall
remnants of broken dishes are swept up

while life passes through this Zen kitchen
built on hopes and empty promises
painted daily with fresh tears of disappointment

-L.J. Lenehan-

I Love You…

When you said the sun had no heat
I blistered, without cream
When you said the rain was not wet
I drowned, in overflowing river banks
When you said the snow was not cold
I got hypothermia, walking to you
When you said there were no rocks beneath the sea
I jumped in, ended up in hospital
When you said life with you would be simple
I lost myself, in you
But you never meant the three words you often said
I love you.

-L.J. Lenehan-

Satan was in the Chinese today,
same restaurant as me,
slovenly, an evil glint in his eye,
repulsed, I wanted nothing more
than to turn and go –
but his gluttonous words spewed out,
nauseating me, I turned blue
in the tenderness of his grasp,
my heart never had a chance.

-L.J. Lenehan-

Reflections

an amnesia
in the woman I am meant to be
was hidden
when the tears of forbidden emotions
overflowed
and extinguished my inner light
now
my mirror has no reflections
and
all I can see is the illusion of a life
when
all that was lived was a chaotic revenge
created
by anyone that ever loved me

-L.J. Lenehan-