Wednesday, May 25, 2016

The Stirrup Cup

Go and be happy, let your soul be full
   Of love from someone else’s giving heart.
Let passion splash you with the urgent pull
   Of life to life, or fresh start to fresh start.
Go and forget the past, that dreary wood
   Where you were lost and couldn’t find your way,
And worked so hard just to feel halfway good
   And burned yourself out just to make things gray.
Go off and build a future that’s so rich
   You can live off the interest till you die,
And hit a home run off of Life’s best pitch
   And always dance and laugh and never cry
      Except for tears much happier somehow
      Than the ones running down my face right now.

Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells

Sunday, May 22, 2016

Manhattan Sonnet: Walking These Streets

If we’re not cursing, then we just don’t care.
   The problem’s always someone else, not us.
We know we each deserve the spotlight’s glare.
   We think it’s ghetto when we ride the bus.
We hate our day job but it pays the rent.
   The shoes we wear at night are who we are.
We really don’t know where the week just went.
   If we had time, we’d learn to play guitar.
We have high hopes and very low desires.
   Losing an argument is worse than dying.
No matter what we buy, we kick the tires.
   Once every five blocks we see someone crying.
      That’s why it sadly takes selective blindness
      To walk these streets and still believe in kindness.

Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells


Thursday, May 19, 2016

Way Of The World

Sometimes the world is out to make you hate
   Yourself for all that makes you who you are.
The good in you becomes your evil fate;
   Blessings will curse you; all you make will mar.
You greet the dawn with hope, trust, and affection.
   They all cause the reverse of what you wanted.
Trust gives birth to betrayal; love, rejection;
   And hope becomes the house in which you’re haunted.
It’s like friends who turn into enemies.
   They helped, and now they hurt. Two sides; one coin.
Today’s locked door; yesterday’s set of keys—
   Tomorrow’s hammer, cleaving all you join—
      Till shame and hurt make of your broken pride
      A caustic pit where you can safely hide. 


Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells


Monday, May 16, 2016


I dreamed last night you were Anna Karina
   And it was like I died and went to heaven.
You wore a white silk tunic, like Athena;
   From one to ten, your beauty hit eleven.

You touched my cheek and whispered: “Ah, mon cher,
   Together we will rule the avant-garde.”
We kissed. A great voice thundered out: “BEWARE!”
   The voice of God. (Or was it just Godard?)

We stole a vintage Chevy. You said: “Drive.”
   We only stopped to drink at seedy bars.
You handed me a loaded .45,
   For Life is just a girl, a gun, and cars.
      And when I die, the coroner will claim
      The bullet in my heart that has your name. 


Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells



Thursday, May 12, 2016

The Pond

Water Lily Pond at Giverny - Claude Monet

I dreamed last night that, you and I, we’re walking
   Through a green wood where wild amaranth grows.
We come upon a pond and you stop talking.
   You take it in and then take off your clothes.
Naked and unembarrassed, young and slim,
   You race into the water like a boy;
I sit and watch; and for an hour, we swim—
   You in that cool still pond, and I in joy.
There’s never been a happiness in me
   To equal what I feel when I see you
Happy. Such innocent intimacy
   Is like a bell that never rings untrue.
      It tolls as you come out, dry off, get dressed;
      And we continue walking, heading west.

Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells


Monday, May 9, 2016

Caveat Emptor

Oh, how I want to go to bed with you!
   I think there’s something real here—let’s pursue it!
Just one thing: when we reach Love Avenue,
   I’ll try to be your friend. Don’t let me do it!
I’ll make you feel at ease. Please—please!—feel lust.
   I’ll want to go shoe-shopping with you. Stop me!
Don’t treat me like a brother you can trust.
   I don’t want sister kisses—lollipop me!
(I love that image.) And I love you more
   Than just a friend—but that’s just what I’ll be,
Because it’s safe. And safety is the floor
   I walk on. And if you walk there with me,
      Then we will never. But we’ll always be
      Good friends. And that’s not good enough for me. 

Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells

Monday, May 2, 2016


There are too many voices inside me.
   One asks for love so softly no one hears.
One urges me to write incessantly.
   One sings an aria of all my fears.
One swears that I’m the best at what I do.
   One reminds me that fame will not be mine.
One kicks me every time I don’t come through.
   One nags me till I sulk and mutter “Fine.”
Voices that tell me nothing I will make
   Is worth it, so why bother even trying?
So many voices calling me a fake
   And only two of them are never lying:
      The one that catalogues my every shame
      And one that’s always whispering your name.

Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells