Between Midnight and 3am   
Sea salt and tentacle love letters scatter into my aromatic wind like snowfall in the Arctic. Prevalent. Soft, sweet layers of flowery smoke linger in my midnight lungs. Dark secrets revealed here. Passions unleashed. Blood, bone, twisted thoughts and wet, saturated desire await the prying support of your curious eyes. Come hither...


These ink bled lines
Are not yours
They are mine
Do not steal from me
Or with hook and anchor
At the bottom of my sea you'll be
Sea salt and tentacle love letters scatter into my aromatic wind like snowfall in the Arctic. Prevalent. Soft, sweet layers of flowery smoke linger in my midnight lungs. Dark secrets revealed here. Passions unleashed. Blood, bone, twisted thoughts and wet, saturated desire await the prying support of your curious eyes. Come hither...


These ink bled lines
Are not yours
They are mine
Do not steal from me
Or with hook and anchor
At the bottom of my sea you'll be
  2d  Brook
Cweeta Cwumble
Cweeta Cwumble
3 days ago

i want to feel the rush,
the tingly fireworks under my skin,
the buzzing sparks of awakeness.
i want to feel the bubble burst in my chest.
i want to dance. i want to ride the music
like a rollercoaster,
i want the thrill of the next drop,
the next wave of euphoria
pulsating through my veins
like electric current conducted by
all the goings-on around me
i want your energy and my energy
mixing together in the air around us
like a glittery galaxy milky-way aura,
a sanctuary of our own vibrations,
a place where our hearts are huge
and our egos small.
a place of peace, of love,
of unity, and respect,
of higher elevations
and acceptance for all.
can't we just do drugs?

#drugs   #music   #rush   #plur   #partying   #mdma   #thrilling  
  6d  Brook
SG Holter
SG Holter
6 days ago

It's almost June.
Still got a fire going.

I don't see myself as one of those
Scandinavian poets who write

Almost only about the weather
Without reason.

The weather is a woman.
As angry as she is breathtaking

Around here.
Turned on and scared,

We brace for impact before
Every forecast.

Will there be a summer at
All, or dull, lightless skies of

Unblue until the rain comes
Down solid again?


I dip my pen in warm memories.
Sad that they are mostly

From abroad, I surrender the idea
Of truth in poetry.

Well, we drink around fires.
Cling to the military standard long

Underwear we stole when we were
In.

See too much as potential
Firewood.

We notice that the sun never
Really sets these months,

But there's room for cold in
The light.

We pray for summer. Hoping
This year it falls

On a
Weekend.

Brook
Brook
May 16

If you were a book
I would stay up all night
Feverishly flipping pages
Soaking up every single syllable
To know your ending

If you were a tropical island
I would explore your lush, secret interior
Spending long, lazy afternoons naked
Sun drunk on your shores

If you were a dirty joke
I would throw my cackles to the ceiling
Careful to not burst windows
Making sure to retell you often
Your punch line only gets better

If you were a roller coaster
I would wait in line for half the day
Just to be caressed by your safety harness soaked in other's sweat
Not to mention your talent with G-spots,* I mean forces*

If you were early morning
I would brew you strong and extra hot
Sipping cautiously at your ceramic edges
Watching blue smoke lazily curl
Then taking deep gulps as you cool
Buzzed on you till the afternoon

If you were mine
I would fill up your long dried and crusted ink wells
Encourage your laughter to come out to play
But above all
I would love you. Madly.

Brook
Brook
May 13

Deep sighs at day break
Our heated surface no match for the inferno inside
Raging for the ache of your dark touch
Sweat slicks already lubricated flesh
I curve into the muscled wall of your chest
Closer
I need it
I need you
Appalachia shadows criss cross fogged windows
Penetrating stories written along their dewed edges
I writhe beneath your whispers of
"Come for me"
Body bowed, tight like violin strings
Played by expert, elegant fingers
Shudder. Surrender
The seat of my soul flooding with pleasure, with release
Request granted

Brook
Brook
May 11

I feel you in subtle trickles
At times a deluge
Words fall not on deaf ears
Just softly
The push and pull is palpable
Silky surfaces greeting imagined rough hands
You are used to dirt beneath their edges
Both are carried by the sounds of little feet behind us
Echoing the future of our old age
Trepidation lingers in the air between our breaths
If only we were more like moon shine
Straight forward
Less like skittish ponies

Can you dig?
  May 6  Brook
Frais de la Ferme

Under bellies faint white in the corner of a large crowds eyes
Windows down
To share the sound of inner light
Beside ownership stands devotion
Hold on, patience is so misunderstood
Sheltered
Helpless
I would put it in pretty words if I only could
To please you
Knowing
Hearts can be misused
Broken
Selfish with these miscues
I never speak as honest as I should
As I lay here waiting on roosters to chime
To be so uprooted in the very land you spent a life
I was first drawn to her eyes
Whose edges tumble
Like the mist off the mountains that lead from valley to heights
Everyone deserves a little hope
Local
Distance
For instance, I woke and cleared my eyes of this poem
Moments
Passing
There was a sliver of a memoir, where we never spoke
The idea here
My dear, is adoration gently layered like a shawl
Fragrant
Alone beyond my last comma I saved for you
Exposed
Subtle intros are hellos and yours was a symphony
I was thinking in any other life
You'd be a mystical memory, folk tale told by the fireside revelry
They named leaked land in you're image that's a fact and not opinions
I stand on reflective sides
Void of vanity
I try
Rely on the voice that speaks to me
Rewrite, my debts
Softly
Kissed until it's blessed
Light skin of you're neck
Just like that water bends
Turns turbulent in the highest point of grace, if I can live to face the surface of believing again
It's about time
In telling you a daisy truth
Little white lie
If I'm to say I don't mutter you're name, underneath my breath

 
To comment on this poem, please log in or create a free account
Log in or register to comment