You know how your follicles open and your heart tightens.
The way your loins creep upward when you gift her something thoughtful.
That's how I feel when I make you cum 5 times in one day.
That's my thoughtful gift.
Physical and intrinsic.
You know how important you feel when she buys you 4 bean bags which look good only next to her insular lava lamps.
And I. I am only most important when you leave me your words to immerse myself in.
I am chosen then abandoned for her throne.
Think about that and ask me why I can't work with you if I can't have your words inside of me if only to crown you King.
Goddamn it sir.
Living a pipe-dream, I realise,
This life ain't what we despise.
Greedy with desires, running on a course,
Not being content, filled with remorse.
Taking a step back, I see what it's like,
Chugging along parallel lines, is what we call life.
A line of desires, a line which we are on,
An illusion of convergence, that's all we've got.
So rage along your path, keeping on the smile,
Life is not a destination, but a journey worth each mile.
If we could write a motion memento
Just a couple of sentences long.
Just long enough for people to stop and live
the moment along.
If we could stop and tell the world the point of it all,
many eyes of disguise would laugh as they think they already know.
How could we forget and loose our point along the way,
And keep on walking breathlessly, as if the secret has never been told away.
We share our memories and our tears
We live in an irrational emotional fears.
If we could write a motion memento
Just a couple of sentences long
just long enough to catch attention
in this fast living world.
Just long enough to remind you
that all you have is NOW.
I want to exile
from this still-life (though it is
still life), but I found
so hard even my
own motion within those stiff,
of living... How knows?
Maybe there is no rise and
fall, but the gaudy
illusion; the cold,
of dried paint spots on a wall.
To wear on certain occasions
While beings form
From the murky waters
Structures of lies
That keep kindred souls
A window pane
Watching the world collapse
In 2D motion
Only to find freedom
Within the mind.
Watching way up high
'planes criss-crossing the sky
weaving geometric vapour trails
from multiple metallic tails
Watching from a hill
motorway traffic standing still
clogged up, bogged down and static
motorists somewhat short of ecstatic
Watching through my windscreen
at every unfolding scene
nose to tail, tail to nose
bumper to bumper, queue jumper
Watching through my glasses
the flow of the human masses
everyone in perpetual motion
c'mon baby do the locomotion!
Tell me in a whisper
softly speaking in my ear
Let me close my eyes
and feel you really near
Hands on skin of velvet
a callous dream come true
A juxtaposed position
this love I have with you
A poet you are too
so am I
Poetry in motion
was left in our goodbye
I see you here tomorrow
to kiss your lips again
Pull out another paper
and caress you with my pen
I write about the passion
as fire burns us down
From crumpled old love letters
left lying on the ground
Returned I am
gone without a sound
dipping my quill in ink
stroking in black ashes
fanning the flames
for you again.
Cherie Nolan© 2016
I love you, and the smooth curves of your beautiful lips. I love the way they part so gracefully when you speak, the way you let these sweet valleys of symbols pour between them ever so effortlessly. Every word that leaves your lips leaves me in awe. I could watch them in motion all day long, and I will always long for them to be in motion against my own skin. Every time we kiss, I am filled with your god-blessed breath; your kisses are a heavenly sin. They shoot sparks all in my veins; your lips electrify my entire body.
I love the way the left corner of your lip twitches when you're nervous, and the way you lick your lips when you run out of things to say. I love the way you bite your lip when you look deep into my eyes; pulling back your bottom lip with your teeth, and slowly letting it slip back to its normal position.
I love you, and the smooth curves of your beautiful lips.
Nestled between the covers
Are two stories unfolding,
Unraveling in the mystery of
How to detach from it.
The stories and memories,
Meshed together with an infinite tale.
A wordless story,
making its imprint on our flesh.
Bound, yet boundless
As birds that perch upon the edge of a wire.
Potential for motion,
A flight into a blanket of Love.
Shadows follow, for once cloaked
around our bare shoulders like a guide.
Mistaken as us, and comfortable
mistreating our views.
A grim reaper of our own Creation.
A once thoughtless prison, unshackled now
in warmth of our presence.
Recognizing a strand of
Familiarity, creating an endless
family from Kingdom to Kingdom.
We are not what we think,
And yet we think this into the now.
This creative moment of backwards
And forwards, as we sleep
A sweet lullaby
Of juxtaposition and paradox.
Mirrors are doorways
Into our Selves,
Onto a great pathway of
Questions that need no reply.
Voiceless songs and melodic silence,
Intertwining in the mix of
Magic and Absolute Truth.