through trails of smoke the eyes give back

any look that comes their way

and those who look through their own glass bottoms

dream and fantasize with your smile

they hope for favor for however long

but they can't see beneath your style

Years of ice and glass and smoke

saw the party wax and wane

and after all

the props and jokes

well, they're old

and tired

and stained

still I come back to broken toys

like a prodigal son in lust

through smoke-filled eyes and ravaged boys

to rooms piled high with dust

The joys I thought were love of life

took me from loneliness

and being so naively blind

I abandoned holiness

so I roamed and I vagabonded through streets and bars

the mark was made with a liquor stain

and dreams fantastic glowed in the dark

forgetting the strangeness of the game

It seems we all have marks and stains

the vice and virtues show

it seems these joys and passing pains

are just new signs of growth

After the Party

Empty bottles and a morning cough

are telltale signs something's wrong

and states of mind I knew and lost

are more treasures of mine gone

so many things I think are love

are the beauties of experience

that part of me I keep locked up

is not shown outside of this confidence

In half-filled bottles the smile is flashed

like a shining jewel displayed

© Gerald Nicholas Simpson.  All rights reserved.