stirring tantalizingly ...
blowin' the winds
We are not made of stars, I don't know why you told me that
Would it have made a difference if we were?
To be flaming balls of combusted gas
Temperate and voatile
Already, that's how we exist...
So would it really have changed us?
(I think not)
Do you really think of me that way?
Combustible...unpredictable in every way
(Possibly not even there anymore)
Radiating your world from far away
You wouldn't notice if I disappeared
Do you truly think we're made of stars?
(It's not as romantic as you think)
Honestly, I view us more as a sunset
If we're going to talk atmosphere
The pinkish kind that melts and blends
Into the dark bruise of night sky
We mix and evolve into something atramentous
Something tantalizingly morbid
But our morbidity shall not keep
Us from living free and happy
Because, eventually, the sun rises
And brightens our venomous palors
Sweetens the berries of our tender youth
(Though not so young anymore)
You never say the right things anymore
You have me.
(And I'll never let you go)
Star dust and all.
A Poem by quinfinn
" those chance encounters can be deadly "
oven like heat from a blistery day
darkened sky and warm, soft rain
created steam on the hot pavement
which miraged the vision down the road
careless actions of passers by
had littered the street with fast food wrappings
it was too hot to sleep this night
so there i was out wandering alone
from out of nowhere came a sultry voice
deep as teak wood and sweet as treacle
inquiring of my nocturnal activities
then i saw the voice's owner lurking in shadow
silhouetted by the streetlight she stood, alone
smiling as a cat having eaten a canary
dressed all up goth with black makeup
she reminded me of late night movie lore
who was i to judge her garb? she was beautiful
i felt a strange sense of belonging, craving
"all alone in the night, pretty man?
i couldn't speak, though my head nodded its betrayal
"pussy got your tongue, my love?"
i couldn't believe my ears
she emerged slowly, tantalizingly, from the shadows
her beauty was the stuff of dreams
"maybe i should keep you company,
i've been craving the likes of you all night"
she pulled me close and i closed my eyes
in anticipation of the coming embrace and kiss
her power was utterly irresistible
as her hands played on the nape of my neck
at that instant i felt the sting of her piercing fangs
and she whispered in my ear
"now you are mine forever".....
© 2011 quinfinn
You turned the tap on
You raised the cup
The particles you’d spoken
Quickly edging up
To the final line
A dash of love; A dash of trust
A dash of wonderous time
My glass was full up
There was no more room
It was embodied in the promises
You said would come soon
The mix of water and strength
Made time go so fast
The minerals began to settle
But you picked up my glass
And spilled it.
You say that I'm mad and maybe that's true
But from my point of view the mad one is you
You live out your life with order, morals, and rules
Why not act like a beast and slobber and drool
Over the red meat of chaos so tantalizingly sweet
Come over and try it; it just can't be beat
Life without order doesn't come at great cost
No one could tell who has won, no one could tell who has lost
No winners or losers, everyone equal
The story wont end no need for a sequel
Life without morals is simply a must
It's like a great high that's running on lust
Whatever you do is neither good nor is bad
You wont even care if everyone's mad
Now life without rules is the most fun of all
Just go into town and burn down City Hall
Once this is done anarchy will reign
Come join in this fun little insanity game
The Fresh blood still warm on my hands
My mind is swimming in a sweltering sea of sordid sensations
I find myself (or shall I say I search?)
[I] search for this self [I] naively presuppose amidst quite a convoluted calamity
This assuefaction will not do!
I must kill myself, and start anew!
I must violently press forward!
I will hurl myself into the chaotic clasps of Erebus to avoid this cold, dead sediment
This cold, dead past.
Your cold, dead eyes
Your tantalizingly tepid tone
Bitch, you wish to take me from myself
You would strip me of my subjectivity
You would kill me, but I'm not for you
I must kill myself and start anew
People build million dollars homes
Far away from the city dwellers
To be free from ordinary folks
Are well known loners
They even tried to own the high sea
Unfortunately, it belongs to all nation and mankind
It’s known as freedom and seafaring power to all
In hopes of a segregation
without the unnecessary advocating
they build swimming pools;
and Bob wire fences
It’s hard for many of us to create duplicates of heaven
Without the approval of the mighty one
These efforts would remain tantalizingly and unreachable
Like the keys to the golden gates;
Some of the loners that goes down to the depth of the ocean
To do business in the water, have failed miserably
after they have seen the works of the all mighty
However, with all their money and the power
They is no escaping from your neighbors
There is only one thing that separated us
I am neither
a war trophy
nor a hobby.
Because I live in a country
where women are no longer
legal property of their husbands,
I am, as of current
unavailable for mail order
due to the radically progressive
notion, that took years decades centuries
that a human female is, as a matter
of fact, a human.
You can, for a vicarious experience
leer at me
like cheap jewelry
then, appalled, denounce me
as too ugly for your usage
when I give the implication
that I am sentient.
And of course, I must be modest
Lest my tantalizingly average looks
provoke some poor man
into committing a crime
I dated some glassy-eyed narcissist
a while back
in a regrettable period of youth,
who indulgently stated
that his three favorite things
in the world
were food, music
(Charmed to be a novelty)
And a privileged, modern woman like me
Shouldn’t mind being consumed
like a pain-staking meal prepared
especially for him,
Or replaced in his tri-annual rotation
like the discovery of a new favorite song.
I continue to be
thing, as somehow in 2012
the term “feminist”
continues to be the social equivalent
of “kitten strangler.”
And because my father
can no longer sell me
for a flock of sheep,
I no longer need to be more human.
So I may drown in this amorous affair,
Savoring the delicious taste,
Of your lips against my own.
Your arms clasped around,
My petite body,
Skin touching skin,
Finding warmth in your blanket,
Of security and adoration,
Burrowing into the flowing fabric,
Of your embrace.
Never let me go,
I yearn to hear the inhales,
And exhales of your breath;
You glance at me,
Chuckling in delight,
As your thoughts turn,
To how enchanting you view me to be.
Allowing your firm hands to explore,
The slight curves,
Of a soft feminine exterior,
Yearning for the stroke,
Of your fingertips upon me.
Does love not knock upon the door,
Of your innermost chamber?!
Silence your scattered thoughts,
Allowing you to hear,
The lulling seductive melody,
Depicting the presence of Eros,
In the heat of the night.
I shall pray you stay,
With fingers tightly interlacing,
For the fates bestow us,
With a blessing,
Perhaps a curse,
Receiving a bond to unite us.
An illicit connection,
In the eyes of others,
Yet I behold my desire,
For you as a dragonfly,
Mysterious and ancient,
A beautiful creature,
Existing almost as long,
As the sands of time,
Flying among the earth,
To be free.
Breathe me in,
Granting me the chance,
To enter your body,
Mind and soul,
Engrossing our spirits,
To complete the other,
Through gazing into,
The eyes of the other.
As our lips encounter,
As they collide in portrayal,
Of our irrevocable love,
As the Riesling rests,
Within my wine glass,
Tempting me to consume,
Pleasure through the delicious taste,
Awaiting for me.
Reminding me of the same reasons,
I crave you,
Dark were the days immediately prior to my rebirth.
It was at this peculiar time that I realized the potential of endless thought and kicks.
The strain of giving and taking and finding the time to be free within our minds.
Drink from the actions of others, and your reactions to things that may not be there at all.
And with this creation spirals.
Endless circles and boxes. To abandon expectation is to be free.
And to realize the notion that creation and trailing inspiration is free and easy and limited only to what we have not yet perceived for references sake.
I would rather live in pain than not live.
From each rebirth, this is what will save me.
Reaching out for the time when love was not such a filthy word.
And when cities were undauntingly small.
I am not so saintly as to resist habit.
I have the same fantasies again and again.
This wine tastes like bile but I continue to drink.
And here I must face the sad realities.
The two great monsters and the ends of this town lay dormant, but present, and stare each other down.
We can exist above this charade within an insular dimension.
Blinkers on. Hats off to us.
From each rebirth, this is what will save me.
A rare moment of absolute clarity, although I do not know the cause.
Is it escape from fear? Or the complete realization of my fear of death?
But its liberating.
A vision of all of the things that I could achieve.
Its not dark.
Its blinding light.
I plan to exist inside this.
And from each rebirth, this is what will save me now.
Feverish were the days before I lost it completely.
I strive to surprise.
I could never have imagined a reaction so pleasant and so true, however confrontation never did suit.
On the edge of a precipice, and a dark one at that.
The uncertainty concerning my own actions is tantalizingly distressing.
Maybe I'll go.
In this rebirth,, I've lost what would once have saved me.
And so they're leaving me behind.
But who knew we could go so long without sleep.
And this insular spectrum is a quagmire of guilt and filth, Population One.
So maybe I'll fall.
And ultimately, typically, drown.
Exactly like the specter that occupies my nightmares.
It was at this time that I realized perhaps I did not require solace.
From each twist of the spirit.
From each crisis.
From each glimpse into the face of the supernatural presence.
From each destruction and from each rebirth.
I do not wish to be saved.
Onward with a maverick as acting muse.
A Brave New World.
A brave new identity.
We drank poison for breakfast again.
It's the sound of the Bell's and feedback from before we were born.
After much argument, we arrive together.
As a single insecure unit.
A giant trembling insect.
And we both wonder if our voyage into the strangely familiar was worth our energies.
And this was the fate that received me.
I asked for revolution.
I received only murmurs.
I often wish I were a caricature.
So I drink up like a bitch and call myself vain.
And now I feel like death cooled down.
It's rickety and transitional.
I need escape and asylum.
I Must Not Turn Around.
This state of flux is torture and consumption.
I will listen to the same sounds over and over.
Becoming completely self absorbed.
I wonder if I'll always remain the same.
Or if I'll substitute.
For once, a new universe.
There is only superficial light.
Mere crackles and cackles outside.
It was at this time that I came upon the realization that I am identical.
I could not tell one pig from another.
So I shuffle back behind the screen.
It's safe here, for now.
Concealed by distraction.
Keep the screaming child at bay.
I collapsed on the bridge.
Four walls are stormed.
The absurdity of changing colour and the god-like relevance of this was like an electrode to the brain.
For a while we sat still.
It was at this time that I chose the most difficult avenue.
From this rebirth I'm putting myself in the hands of another. This will not save me.
I'm struggling, I'm scared, and I'm sorry.
If I expose myself, if I stick out my tongue would you do the same?
I am quite prepared to gaze into the eyes of the monstrous spider.
And accept one world over another.
Its the clambering back and forth I cant stand.
An ascent into Purgatory,
And finally, perhaps, Madness.