Category: Unrequited Romance


Fingers lovingly probe the letters of these keys.
Emotion tries to rescue me.
Where will they take me?
Like a Disc Jockey plays,
A rolling stone full of moss.

It is late, but the songbird of my life called me out of the blue earlier this afternoon,
In the daylight for a change,
We usually talk late at night.
She calls me unexpectedly,
Holla at a brotha excitedly to say she thinks
She was nearby where my mother lives.
Few have permission to go there.

An ongoing thing,
Is this fling;
I stopped it for twenty-five years.
Let the sap descend back to the roots;
Banned and then I forgave her
Upon shockingly returning as a caregiver.

Many a year it seemed,
I was just her chauffeur to parties
Nothing more afterwards.
I was in love with a ride-share client;
She spoke her love for me,
However it was never consummated,
While I could lay many others.

We are still both single,
Early sexagenarians who have not yet exchanged sexual generics.
Would it be worth it now having desired her for so long?
As uncharacteristic as a cold cactus on a desert night,
I still do not trust her to visit and be denied and teased again.

Therefore, and because she lives now in the dark of the Bronx,
Yet I did it to get it over with.
The tolls over the bridges,
Are also somewhat prohibitive nowadays from when it was a quarter.

Lay lady never laid,
Maybe on my new almost brass bed,
If only I could finally get her into it.
Never taking me seriously,
Thinking I was too skinny genetically.
That I can never control.

If now that we are older Baby Boomers,
She would perish before I do,
Would be the saddest day,
Save my own mother’s time before mine.

Her voice is still the same,
Except when she is loud street braggadocios.
Our octaves never change I guess,
Unless health issues do.
Once a songbird to my heart,
Always a special symphony singer into my soul.
She insists “last night a DJ saved my life”.

Thirty years I have known her;
Yet through it all never boned her.
No hook-up from the friend zone.
Nyet benefits – why?
This verse is masturbation alone.

Caring in-truthful conversations,
This time wasn’t our mind blown?
To have loved and to slice like a cherry tree;
Tasted tart fruit distantly from one’s own;
Now I know never there will we have sex;
Not a pie are we,
No French Vanilla-skinned ice cream;
Only a forever fly-by.
She is huge in weight and afraid of the freight.
It will slightly be morose to have lost the chance ,
When one of us soon goes “bye-bye”.
Thanks for the friendship dance.

Advertisements

Dig it: When I was a teen back in 1968, it was huge for our parents to give us allowance money. Often we spent it to go to shows at the RKO ALden and Loews Valencia theaters in Jamaica, Queens New York.  I saw the Delfonics, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Delfonics who were one of the hottest soul groups of the day, perform this song, which was their theme song and otherwise know on their vinyl albums as “How Could You”, an ending theme to their sets on several occasions. The lights would dim to darkness except for one flood on the pianist who would introduce, with those first flouish of keystrokes, what would become the familiar last song refrain.
CDKEND-309a

Mostly an instrumental until, from way off-microphone, William Hart would start wailing or “crying” the vamp; pleading the case toward the lost object of desire as he approached the edge of the stage, his presence growing louder as the music faded. If you are reading this and seasoned enough to rememeber same, please share your impressions in the comment section below.

This song returns to me, here on this New Year’s Eve 2015/2016, in retrospect of what I gean as yet another unrequited love affair’s disappointment as I prepare to shower and shave to be with friendly strangers with whom I can toast away the bitter and to better luck in the future and not have a lonely heart this time next year, but a real live, beautiful and sexy soul mate companion. God willing, in Jesus’ Mighty name. Amen.

And that’s why they call me the Sad Face King.

Pick Hitt: Sadly, WordPress apparently is not offering its Bloggers a Year in Review for 2016! It is yet another example of one of the nice things in life that our online corporate administrators are withdrawing after getting us used to them! It Sux and is not about the “statistics”. Nyet, it is about the creatively fun way that WordPress presented this gift to us, lo these past years since I began to blog in 2009. If you know ofd another blog platform that has not thorwn the “baby out with the bathwater” and still is fun, please let me know because mayb e it is time to take my writing “business” elsewhere it is FUN and appreciated.

S novym godom or “Happy New Tear! The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2015 annual report for my blog.  Were you a participant or on the bench?  Thank you for stopping by.  Peace.

Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 3,100 times in 2015. If it were a cable car, it would take about 52 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

parishilton2Photo post. “Hell-OOOO, Dolly” Speaks to the Sad state of my sex and love life, but this is more “tatas” than I have seen since 2013! lol Thank you for posting this. The closest to “Paris-dise” I have ever been… Heh

“Blond, shapely, sculptured sublime sweet softness,
Everything I always desired since I was a boy.
Yes, I always “liked white girls”,
If that is the simple American way you want to put it;
Yet is more than that.
It is Asian, Caucasian, Slavic, Eurpoean;
It is culture,
Not a female vulture.
Nipples erect yet sweet as berries
I yearn to climb this grapevine.
When I finally attract a loyal one of my own.
It is the best quest for me.
Keeps me alive succinctly.
For to be facing the beauty above,
Money notrwithstanding,
I want to wake up with those twins.
Would be like being in Parisdise!”

…To Be continued…because I CAN and am a Man.

Source: Freezing My Frame ®

In my insanely contemporary musical Disc jockey mind, this “tune wedgie” appears most mornings while I try to make breakfast, wake-up and convince myself that I have a purpose in life to move on towards. Yes, it is lonely like that unless I am strengthened via prayer.

The lyric, “Its me that’s missing your love, and I….” repeats most often.

You are listening to vintage Al Green from 1973 “Call Me” album, with a song of unrequited yet reciprocal love that endures because every day the dawn will happen with a renewed chance for healing romance. I always appreciated how during his vamp-to-fade, he listed his previous, at that time, hit song’s names, lol.

This light-listen and “B-side” selection garnered major market airplay and herein is dedicated sometimes to the Ukrainian lady I thought I’d be married to by now, Inna-Nina. I blame myself for not being able to raise enough money to import her to the USA ahead of the Russian intervention and her mother’s cancer diagnosis in the spring of 2014.
This is likely the sad climax conclusion for “Cafe` Skype” because something is amiss. I will put it point-blank: If you are my girlfriend or fiancee` and my elderly mother or father becomes ill, I will not push you away or go to a mental clinic for a “breakdown”. To the contrary, I would need you more to lean upon through troubled times – even if five thousand kilometers away via a five year relationship as difficult as that may be – or if it honestly will not work anymore and I have a person in the same area of the opposite sex (maybe a past schoolmate) who fulfills that role, I would tell you. Or maybe that’s just me.
Here is when needs begin to challenge that I am a loyal, faithful man.
Murphy’s law seems to stalk my female companionship quest…

Tell me what should I do in your comments, please

I’ll be Here

The chances increase that, now that I am sixty-plus, I might get a condition also and suddenly slip away, or that the war there in your country will take you from me; your mother may pass on and then we will never fulfill our London plus four years promise to see each other again and marry since meeting at Café Skype in 2010. Afraid, yet optimistic – to a point.

When you are Concerned
or when you are in need of reassuring…

I’ll be right beside you
Comfort you will find.

If you need a vacation from war in your country,
Or a loving helpful Long distance love to walk with hand-in-hand

Better for having met you gefore (before).

I’ll be right here for you,

Tell your mother I want to meet her

And to stay strong.

Via your not-so-good written English,

I do not know how long she has!

I am with you even if you cannot see me;
I truly understand.

I’LL BE HERE FOR YOU!

До Свидания.

533-god-can-heal-a-broken-heart

bros

I loved everything about David Ruffin as lead of The Temptations and thereafter when he recorded solo, especially on “My Whole World Ended (The Moment You Left Me)” and the Van McCoy production, “Walk Away From Love”.  I didn’t even connect the vinyl dots to realize that he had an older brother who could sing just as well in his own right until, [ I can’t remember when it was ] one day I acquired and really looked at the label of the 45rpm record, “What becomes Of The Brokenhearted” by Jimmy Ruffin and wondered as I played it, was this guy related to David. Or maybe I had a previous inkling… There was no “Googling” back then to learn instantly the answer, and so I had to rely upon my “ear” for music which heard the similarities of voice that let me know these two singers were related for sure!

I have used Jimmy’s biggest hit to accentuate at least two blogs here at ‘Achilliad‘ since I began to do this in 2009.  One was me crying the blues about some chick that deserted me in love back in, I think, 2008 or nine, the other more recently as a part of a collection of “tune wedgies” that I had get off my (mind) chest.

Jimmy-Ruffin

But this post, Jimmy, is for YOU. Posthumously, yes, but I was always by your side due to the anthem of unrequited love that you gave us. With tears wanting to well-up behind my eyes, I dedicate this post to you, Jimmy, who, unbeknownst to you because we never met, held my hand many a night whey I really cried over a lost love. If I were the Program Director of a radio station right now, I would play a whole hour of your music, both the familiar and obscure even if I had to play “What Becomes Of The Brokenhearted” back-to-back-to-back-to-back and then some. You were a non-spotlight seeker whose light of class and groundedness belied the showbiz stereotypes. London was a good place for you to be more appreciated – good move to go there, Sir!

Here is one by Jimmy that is really the first time I heard him! It was on Volume 9 of the famous vinyl “Motown Collections Of 16 Original Hits” albums!
Again, the unrequited love theme on, “Don’t You Miss Me A Little Bit Baby”…

I knew you must have been David’s older brother because of the similarities of stature and movement, like that little hand-to-hand move you did with the mic while singing the oft-sampled lyric, “Always moving and goin’ nowhere.” Knowing you are not in the physical world any longer moves me to seriousness with the knowledge that your spirit is singing with the angels as your body rests in musical peace having let me express my many failed love relationships via your wonderful one-hit wonder.

1745319

“What Becomes Of The Brokenhearted”? We just drag along until we have a chance to join the departed.

Jimmy Ruffin: 1937 – 2014

img109

Почти Черный русский на скалах … жизни,
Я сейчас над облаками на мой путь в никуда;
Полет под облаками на высоте 35000 футов.
Убит выезда на меня в последнюю минуту;
Так же, как мой билет подтвердил, что я узнал.
Я хотел бы перейти, из самолета!
Как она могла?

Два года инвестировали время.
Недавно она замолчала и без обновлений,
Был “Огромные разочарован”, что я не получил еще нет.
Но теперь один год с того дня я получил свой паспорт;
Мы могли бы быть установлены, чтобы жарить на берегах Днепра.
Часть меня верит, что она удивит меня,
Будьте в аэропорт, чтобы «собрать» меня.
Принятие желаемого за действительное, я знаю.

Я приезжаю в киевском аэропорту после того, как в настоящее время сонного езды;
Из Москвы SVO выше многих облаков,
Я никогда не думал, что когда-нибудь в «России»;
Это связано с встречи с моим Нины,
Если бы я была посадка betweena.
Мое видео камера готова только в случае, если я определить ее в Борисполе …

Я надеюсь на чудо и взаимных разочарований,
Стрелять некоторые случайные видео на лестнице, я не уверен,
Куда идти дальше в этом аэропорту лабиринт?
Вместо этого я пройти через “паспортный контроль” (ролл “R”),
Претензия моя тяжелые сумки багажа,
Прогуляйтесь по отношению к моей заполнения в корпусе искателя,
Что могло быть, если бы она осталась в Украине?
На данный момент, Один я остался к меланхолии задуматься ..
Я вижу признаков того, что гласит: “Нафтали”.
Она не держит его,
Это моя поездка в неизвестную землю и место для отдыха,
Без нее не так, как мы часто и снова,
Планируемые как в этот день пойдет;
Теперь похищены два полезных странные ребята.

На этот раз любовь была предложена ее первая;
Я ответил, и ни один из его была безответной.
Но я черепаха была слишком медленной, чтобы победить,
Я не знаю, что было сроку или расы!
Теперь осталось подумать, что может-быть.

Все люди, которые не «поддерживать» нашей кампании объединиться раньше,
Должны иметь более активный, чтобы помочь предотвратить этот момент;
Они не сделали и я проклинаю их,
Черт! Деньги руины все, особенно “любят”.
Нина, как ты мог?
Как вы могли бы уезжать?
Один или “одинокий”, как она мило использовал слово неправильно;
Молний за пределами моей комнаты-для-ночь,
Жесткий против янтаря Светофор Украина грома дождь падает.
Он находится в синхронизации с моим новым угрюмым настроением.
У нас обоих есть достаточно “разочарование” сейчас строить заново.

One year AGO to this DAY, she wrote:». сейчас находится в вашем кармане (паспорт) А теперь, нужно поставить вторую свободы -! деньги в другом кармане И потом, вы абсолютно, совершенно свободный человек и что теперь, что план для вас (вчера , я попросил вас об этом по Skype). Когда я буду знать дату вашего визита? буду я встречу тебя в аэропорту? WoW, сегодня мой бывший нетерпением вернулся к меня к вам. WoW скоро мы будете заниматься любовью, я не могу поверить …… И вы можете поверить? Я уже настолько привык, что вы пришли бы никогда. И я помню еще, что вы сказали мне, что мои бабочки вернется ко мне. …
Поцелуи
Нина

“See?”

“This garter she magically sent last Fall (2011) still has her scent…”

Comments encouraged if you’d like to share

THIS little ditty came to me during the first overnight hotel stop of my recent “Exodus” from Nashville, in Bristol, Virginia…after the power outage!

Nina is my friend you know,
She loves me til the end ya know;
She once said SO!
(“We can remain the friends, if you want.”)
“Babychka!”
We were already friends and that is so!

Nina was my friend you know,
She don’t like me to talk about it,
Unless I DO it!
Unless I soon come there to her in Ukraine…
Nor proudly post her photos on my website;
(She sent me over one-hundred!)
That IS so!
I’m in love with her and I feel fine!

Nina is my pink panther playmate ya know,
She Calls me a Cheetah too you know,
Yep, she “said So!”
Nina is my scherzando Honey,
In love I call her “silly bunny”
I’ll fun love her forever!
I shout it!
She’ll come back to me and we’ll be fine.

Nina is magnanimous, and I am so glad!
I dig her until the end of time,
Never say “never”, she said it so (true)!
I keep in touch with her and I’m so glad!
When you Naphtali will begin to travel, you will not stop any more. Believe me, I know!
Kiss you Cheetah


Ooooh!
She SAID SO!
I’m in love with her and I feel fine!

Once upon a time a chick,
That first one who dumped me;
Suddenly without telling me
Her thoughts or reasons;
I must have been about sixteen years old.
A harbinger of painful relationships to come.
Shit!!
A scenario I now know,
Preparing me.
For my life of dating females;
That is just “what they DO”!
Especially these glamor queens
I tend to become attracted to –
I like to awaken with someone,
Vaguely similar to the star
I went to sleep with.
Aww, Fuck!!

Once, without remorse,
A babe said through the courts
I was the sperm donor daddy of her baby.
Our fleeting affair was just two weeks!
They wanted to shackle my financial rest of life.
Ridiculous!!!
Scheming Hussy!

I’ve always been a late bloomer to the dance;
Playing it off “cool” in the face of strife.
Their part-time Casanova fantasy I guess,
It is only now that I truly comprehend romance.
I think.
Yet it still hurts and often now,
The USA does it government “legally”.
I wonder if I called her,
That ex of the exes,
Could it still work?
What??? Slap me,
I must be crazy!

Why can’t I get it without remorse?
They are just wired differently;
Not the infatuation or her this or that being enamored,
I always think the next one will be different,
In the way the hormones affect her.
Unique mentalities always make the lady feel good.
I acquiesce to her desires;
They spit upon me and fart unabashedly.
Otherwise she has the real fire hose,
For extinguishing “our” love’s desires.
Dumbass(me)!!

Reading an old acquaintance’s appeal from decades back,
Stumbled upon it rummaging and tossing stuff;
I feel like I could have an old man heart attack!
She asked me to be ‘big hearted’;
Amusingly tried to use a ‘ten-dollar word’,
One that I’d used on her.
I could not extend that forgiveness then;
Now I know to let it go.
Back then I was hurt and angry;
Less mature a late bloomer.
Don’t misconstrue – I do NOT forget!
Her appeal chance a snowball in hell.
Now fifteen years hence in my sage,
I notice a newly better-minded me.
Perhaps rid of those financial consequentialies,
Provides a different reaction;
Could have improved my current situation?
We will never know.
“Arrrgh!!”

Would have maybe given “three” a chance.
Instead of “ruining” three including me,
As I said to keep myself perceptively “free”.
Yet Monday A.M. QB,
I never aspired to be;
Too many random variables like hypocrisy.
I now tearfully purge the insensitivity.
Racking my brain,
Writhing in physical pain;
The bodily throws of an Edgar Allen Poe story!
Nobody knows except the Heavenly Father and my actions!
Can I get one back in my life again?
Can I not die alone?
Will I have her to rub my back late at night?
Then to cuddle and sleep tight.
Would love to playfully wrestle like Naphtali’s name means,
With regularity and without having to fight.
Or just Kill me NOW, God!!

Compelled, I can move on-principle!
Seemingly thousands of women memories flood my brain;
Situations pass at racecar pace.
Which one was right?
Fifty-nine prognostications quickly out of sight.
Many were wrong.
Some just thrilled to show me their thongs.
No way is this probably the final analysis,
But in six months sixty,
I’ll earnestly apply lessons from this present,
Or live lonely forward until my death;
A similar scenario to dialysis.
(Heavenly Father says, “this one, your ‘Ukrainian’…is different”!!!)

Oh, that letter ended up here:

Weapons

A brain is a battlefield of ideas

aka Miller Time

Life with a Dash of Wine

Billb62's Blog

Just another WordPress.com weblog

Voices of Ukraine

Politics, anti-government rallies, other. Maidan.

tekArtist

Warning: Widespread Weirdness

genepanasenko

Just another WordPress.com site

A Celebration of Reading

It's All Fiction!

The Nice Thing About Strangers

Creative Non-Fiction Short Stories. :) Travel, Oldsters, Love, and Compassion.

the drunken cyclist

I have three passions: wine, cycling, travel, family, and math.

%d bloggers like this: