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Bacchus begone,
I will never taste a wine
As potent or as sweet as those soft, pink, dew-kissed lips.
There is no grape as round or luscious
As her dimpled, yielding globes,
And when she dances, I die
a sweet death, and beg with every breath
To have her in my mouth again,
To sip her honeyed juices,
As she writhes upon my tongue.
An experiment, inspired by the myths of Bacchus/Dionysus and Greco-Roman deities.
There is nowhere to go
Except straight ahead,
On and on
Into the grey.
At some point
Colours will return
And I'll know
That I'm finally
Somewhere.
I am tongueless
Voiceless
Made dumb.
Devastating
Silence prevails
Distressing
Damage is done
****
**** you
Damning me
To silence
eternally.
The sun shines, the sea sparkles,
Laughter fills the air, delighted chuckles
Bubble from cavorting cupids,
This is their time, memories built
On a sweet summer day,
Happiness founded on laughter and play.

This languid Aphrodite, though
Must be content with vicarious joy,
Seeking balm in the salt sea,
Soaking invisible wounds, savouring the sting.
Far away, Adonis waits, and waits,
To bathe with her once more.
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aphrodite
When I was around nine or so my Father looked at me in disgust,
And said in a loud voice
"There are rolls of fat on her legs,
I've never heard of that before."
Poor Daddy wanted a perfect daughter,
And got a chubby social misfit with argumentative tendencies,
Combined with a complete disregard for anything as inconvenient as reality.
I wouldn't have chosen an alcoholic sociopath for a father, either,
So, hey, we're sort of even.
I have my father's temper, which disgusts me,
More than my legs disgusted him, I'll bet.
He knows that I don't like him,
I've never been able to please him, or impress him,
And I've never understood what made him so angry,
I'm angry, too, a lot of the time, but I would never look at my daughters with horror and scorn,
And coldly evaluate their physical shortcomings.
Everything about them is beautiful, everything.
What an *******,
Wish I didn't love him, so.
He comes to find me as I sit alone
in a tiny room.
I close one door in my mind
And open another.

We communicate with questions;
What, where, when,
why didn't you?
Questions…Accusations
Bitter, angry conversations.

Sometimes I am lying in bed,
Other times I sit, very still
And wait for him to leave.
I want him to leave.

I need to be alone
So that I don’t have to be alone.
I want to open doors that I have closed.
He is intruding on another life
I need him to be gone.

Why wouldn’t you?

I wouldn’t, because I couldn’t.
You don’t, because you won’t.
Daily life, peppered with negatives,
Seasoned with unspoken resentments.

My life, the way it is, the way it will be,
There is no point in searching for a key,
If there is nothing to unlock.
Between us lies
An empty space.

How could we know
How great the gulf would grow?

I carried the strain.
You would not share my burden,

Now find me
An unwilling host.

I have found a rare mutation
Spliced, we are perfection.

Uninfected, we evolve.
You are delicious
And I long to distract you
With many delights.
The flare of pain at the base of my spine
distracts me from the sharper pain
Of losing you.

Each evening I numb myself with wine,
It slops into the glass
And makes me think of angry tears.

Social butterfly, I whirl into the city
Wearing my fake face,
And ready for excess.

I need to be gentled
Away from these destructive interventions,
Does someone have a cure for the cure?
How many times do I flit across your thoughts like a
   (Breathtaking butterfly?)
   (Horror-movie vampire bat?)
Please don't answer that.
Any response you could make would
  (****?)
  (Utterly fulfil?)
Me
Just
  (Keep your silence)
  (Come to me through the darkness and the storm)
I'm waiting for you to
  (Leave my head)
  (Warm my bed)
I'm waiting to see what you
  (Won't)
  (Will)
Do.
I'll craft you an arrow with a poem-poison tip,
Forge you a grammar-sword to hold at your hip,
Ride into battle proud to be by your side,
Wordsmith a cave where I’ll take you to hide.

Give me a word, and I’ll light it ablaze,
I have a million wonderful ways,
Wrath bullets launching from literature-guns,
Shiny and sassy and loaded with puns.

Seed me with words, and I’ll birth them for you,
Transformed and ready, and scathing, and true,
I am your friend, your protector, your muse,
I will comeback, and attack, and confuse.
I want to be the flirty girl
In the floaty dress,
With the flower in her hair
Forever.
I want a portrait in the attic,
Growing wrinkled, drooping, dying,
While I dance through the city, luscious and buxom,
Not a care in the world,
Enjoying being 'different'.
Freeze time, I like me now.
It's taken years for me to get here,
And I don't want to leave.
I don't want to be insignificant,
I dread becoming invisible,
I want to just stop,
And be where I am,
I want to be me, now, forever.
Bit shallow of me, but hey **.
I am Janus
Turn away
You will find no truth, today.

Lies drip
From honeyed lips,
My bait,
Your love, your hate.

I am Janus
Always two
Contradictory plans for you.

Embrace duality
Can you love both sides of me?
In ancient Roman religion and myth, Janus (Latin: Ianus, pronounced [ˈiaː.nus]) is the god of beginnings and transitions,[1] thence also of gates, doors, passages, endings and time. He is usually depicted as having two faces, since he looks to the future and to the past. The Romans named the month of January (Ianuarius) in his honor.
We don’t need swaying palm trees and cicadas,
Not to feel as if we have stepped into paradise,
Cradled in the still, warm shadow of devotion,
We are soothingly bathed in love’s sweet heat.

Emotion surges within, rising, an upwelling,
Breaking with the speed of a tropical storm,
We are saturated with loving, wholly drenched,
The feeling; as water offered to a parched soul.

With burning words we urge our worlds to merge,
Unexpected blending during the summer of our lives,
Forging an alloy of free-flowing emotion, so powerful,
So intense, we are captured by its undeniable allure.

We don’t ever need to speak of our love aloud: no,
Finding our affirmation in the sighs between lines,
The liquid longing whispered into stories that we build,
Mirroring our deep desires, hopes and needs fulfilled.

From heady dreams, creating our own sweet heat,
Exploring unconditional passion, trembling, complete,
On cold, starry nights, embracing, sated, warm, alive,
Our coalescing, enraptured spirits, breathlessly writhe.

Across the challenging separation of distant night,
Languishing on the cusp of sleep, edging dreams,
Images rise, silken gossamer threads of thought,
Brushing against latent desires, calling, calling.

Irresistibly drawn together, ah, sharing the dream,
Thrumming pulses racing as we gently caress,
Languorous kisses, hot, sweet and hungry, we love,
Sleep entwined in moonlight, streaming from above.
Paul and I have been collaborating on various writing projects since the early summer of 2014. During these months we had never jointly worked on the same poem, until now, producing 'Dream Fever'. We used the method tried and tested in many writing groups, passing lines and words back and forth until we were both satisfied that the finished poem was a piece with which we were both happy.
.
Baby sees a star
Makes a wish, hands clenched, eyes shine
Yes, dreams do come true.
Saw a shooting star, my three year old made a wish and it's a secret, of course.

(I made one too...)
You never touched me,
But your fingertips found lips
And entered, in dreams.
He will come home tonight
Full of wine, his friends, and steak,
And gently 'wake'
Sleep faking me.
He'll be loving,
Vocal, animated, demonstrative,
He'll want to talk.
Apologetic, clumsy, sweet,
I will meet
My love again,
With a smiling snuggle,
And an indulgent, happy kiss.
We the hidden, now exposed
I cannot find my home.

My dance is despair,
All is salt-sweet, where is she
Who calls the us, the we?

Why do I fly
And where do I go?

The here is a tangle of
Too much bright delight
I fall, I fly, it is un-right

Lost, alone, I spin
Imploding from within
I have what we need
But the others are not here

Wet comes
In bitter spurts
And I know fear
I am afraid.

I had no need to know of this
Going, I, alone
Wings rip each drip
Oh, I go

We the hidden, now exposed
I cannot find my home.
http://sos-bees.org/situation/
Plenty of flowers
But very few bees. Poor drones
Searching for their home.
The sun is out, and England is reborn, as are we.
The grass is singing,
as it pushes through the ground,
Daffodils are dancing in a frenzy, all around.
Let's pack a picnic,
Take a walk in the park.
I'll wear my vintage dress, with flouncy petticoat, seamed stockings
And cherry earrings, you'll make me your dessert
under the willow trees down by the lake.
No-one can see us, lose yourself in all my layers,
Find the seams, follow them up,
And tug at my tight little belt.
Yes, I am edible, do I taste sweet?
Let's make the most
Of this unseasonal heat.
Joys of spring, and all that...
I want you to eat me
until you are sick.
I'm not poison,
But too much of anything
Will **** you, in the end.
I’d love to be your pin-up Queen
(If you like those kinds of
Cobalt kiss-curl curves)

Legs in the air, little peep of underwear
Perfect, film star hair.
I’ll meet your hungry gaze
With my naughty starlet stare.

I’d love you loving me looking like that
He has a Rubik's cube smile,
And his mind is a labyrinth.
Only he knows the exit
Only he knows the combination
That will bring all the colours in line.
See, how tricksy
is the labyrinth, Angel?
I am not to enter in
Without a guide.
Benevolent being
Gently sweep me forward -
GENTLY, gently,
They look so soft
But your wings have sharper tips
than a scythe.
See? They’ve made me bleed.

I have no choice, then?
The way is dark, and the outcome uncertain,
But in the stillness, at the centre
I will find a heart beating
on a crystal platter,
Every pulse a call to arms.
This I must carry back to the world.
There will be dangers, dreams and darkest things,
I am their only hope.
Show me, watcher, guardian, guide,
Push me past the gates
And watch me flee, I will not fail
The world, as I’ve failed me.
A butterfly lives for a single day.
If she thinks, perhaps she thinks
It would be easier to stay cocooned.

But I like to imagine that every atom in her
Yearns for that fleeting moment
Moves towards the light
With wings outstretched, blazes for a second
Awaiting admiration, fully alive
Soars into the sky, aware that time is fleeting
Simply quivering with joy.
The air is crisp and sharp.
Steal your arms around me.
Cup me with your hands
And share my warmth.
I may shiver,
But not because I'm cold;
Miniature suns
light me from within.
I am glowing, glowing
Throwing off heat
Fiercely on fire
Flaring with desire
Burn here with me
Stoke the flames
We'll blaze so strongly
I think that we might melt.
The perfection of a moment
Is limited by the fact that one day,
You will remember it wistfully,
And you know you will.
I am not sure that I actually believe this. I actually hope I don't.
I contemplate an exit
So sound and so swift
It causes no-one pain
A bloodless cauterisation
Evaporation
Only of words,
Fluttering, migrating
Like an anxious flock of birds
Messages composed but never sent
Comments that I angsted over,
Always truly meant.
I contemplate an exit
my flightpath
And my final destination.
I contemplate
fleeing
I'm a coward,
I'm a freak.
Feeling dark, and overwhelmed by unhelpful, exhausting dreams.
There is nothing but my mouth,
And my questing, hungry tongue.
I sip each silk, sweet drop,
Ambrosial, alluring,
I drown in fragrant nectar,
Lost in the pleasure of another.
On exquisite eruption
I surrender sensation
To experience theirs.
I take this for my own delight,
This desire; our universe,
Delicious dreams, indeed.
They ache and sting
As if they've been stapled shut then ripped open
By a big metal thing
But I can't stop
Writing.
I can't stop
Reading.
I am a word addict,
Seeking out my very next fix.
Even codeine can't lure me from the screen.
Just to let you know,
You have my heart, you have me
And you always will.
Last night I dreamed of her.
I lay with my head on her chest,
Embracing forgiveness.
It can never happen,
You have seen to that,
By fabricating a vile and predatory version of me
and feeding it to her, piece by piece,
Coated in your own remorse,
until she was sick.
I don't hate you for it.
Talented salesman,
You did what you had to
To save yourself.
I wish you would serve me the same special meal,
So I could blame me, too,
And hate myself, instead of you.
Angry fantasies
Destroying mutual respect
Lust gets in the way
I want to **** humanely, but
The pulsing gushes taste sublime
When they’re aware that it’s their time.

I need to feed.
I long to read
The terror in those heartshed tendrils

His lifesblood is delicious.

Scarlet drips
Awake my lust
He needs to bleed.

I should not…But I must…
A vampire with a conscience...?  Not one that's strong enough to overcome their inclinations...  One for Halloween..!!
Grief consumed by vampires
Ravenous for pain and loss,
An arm around the shoulders,
A rictus grin, another gaping maw,
Then a quick flash.
Acknowledging their hunger, he has none of his own
And no-one else to feed,
He is the son of a new angry tribe
And a father of none.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-33856907
FIG
FIG
So, there's this fig
In my fruitbowl, almost purple,
Posing atop apples and a mango,
Just being beautiful
And begging to be touched.
It bursts with promise;
If I split it open - oh -
Unmistakably labial lusciousness
will spill out and I will have to ****
my sticky fingers like an infant
at the ******, tugging
oh so gently with an eager, warm, wet tongue,
Pursed lips pulsing
where the juicy flesh meets dewy, fragrant skin.
I bear witness to this fruit's fragile moment of sheer perfection,
And my honest, overwhelming lust
For tender flesh.
4am, awake again.
It is hard to hold onto the self
When engulfed in pain,
The essence of me,
Overwhelmed by analgesics.
Fight, fight, fight,
Everything will be alright.
Time enough to shed this murky shroud,
For now, coffee, codeine, carry on.
I did not choose to love you.

I am never sure of anything.
I have questioned and agonized, second guessed
Every aspect of my life
For thirty seven years.
And now I am sure of something
It is an impossible thing
And it shreds me, from within.

We do not choose who we love.

Everything I ever believed
Was a misunderstanding of the true nature
Of all that we aspire to.
Thirty seven years
And I knew nothing.
I am on autopilot, every atom reaching out
Every thirsty cell screaming for a drink of you.

I think you love me, too.
You want to fight
But I, my angry darling,
I only want to write.
I'll spew out wrathful words and find redemption on the page.
And what will you do?
Where will you go?
Denied a receiver at which to bellow,
Will the bullish screams die within your throat
Before they reach your lips?
Does it bewilder you, how your rage remains unsated?
My reluctance, my refusal to join you in anger games?
Don't you wonder where I go?
I've told you, but you dismissed my refuge with a shrug,
So live with it, find a punchbag or a stressball,
Or better still a friend
On which to offload.
I only want to write
I won't fight you, not tonight.
This is not about me, or anyone else. I just got to thinking about how useful an outlet this site is, and how you could easily become addicted to offloading everything you feel here, perhaps at the expense of real relationships, of engaging with real people in your life, perhaps, avoiding a good old healthy fight!
I will be
The candle that lights your way
Not the wildfire
That ravages your world.

You must be
The hearth that brings me home
Save me from my secret self
Drawn to the danger of the flame.
You are my dragon, dear heart,
You are the roaring force, the fire inside.
I will ride you, boldly, proudly,
Take me where I need to be.

I am made of clay, I need your flames
To make me whole, to bring me to myself.
I have been moulded, but now, I crave the melding,
Breathe on me; set me free.

Dream me now in brilliantine,
Dream that you are mine.
Meet me there, the blazing air
Will feed the flames, birth char-sweet destiny.

You can do this, breathe a world to life,
I know you can, firebreather, raging volcano,
Carry me, I burn so, lava borne,
to our world, dragon, darkly dreamed.
Inspired by 'Dark Dragon' the amazing first novel in the 'Cosmic Warrior' series by Paul M Chafer.
Kiss tingle whizz fizz
Fireworks shooting hot stars
Lots of 'oohs' and 'aaahs'!
You are a snake, with many layers.
I would peel them all away,
Discarding, one by one,
Revealing smarting, pinkened skin.
Shocked pores gulp alien air
Stinging, then relief,
At being vulnerable, and bare.
In some other ago, before you betrayed me,
You flayed me,
Left me tender, raw, aching, sore,
Trembling, flinching at the kiss of the breeze,
The warmth of your breath,
But you are still resistant, unwilling to shed.
I’ll rip away those doubtskins,
Grip you, tear apart hesitation,
I need you naked, soul and body bare,
I have to know you’re really there.
Exhibiting the strength of
the muscles of my mind
the muscles of my thighs
Strumming like the string of a kite
Bend, work, appease,
Move, tighten, tense, contract,
*Release
It did not look like rain.
And then, slowly,
Clouds gathered, fat drops fell.
A perfect storm can take you by surprise.
Words fall into my hands and your lap,  streams of language,
A downpour, from that stern and sombre sky,
A deluge, spilling sudden, wrenching, overwhelming need.
I fear that we will drown.
I hope that we will not.
You cannot stop the sky when it cries,
And so, we let the storm pass.
Now, I take your hand, and run towards the sun.
Laughter sparkles, there are diamonds on the wet, worn road,
Washed clean, the landscape itself surprised, renewed,
It did not look like rain.
Yes dip submit
Fragrant trembling
Wed to Red
You want me yes
For you I open
Pink spread red
Yes ready I am
Heady your scent
Red pink ablaze
Dip drip dance
Yes my purpose
To accept
Your needy seed.
Inspired by the flower paintings of Georgia O'Keeffe
Who are you trying to fool
With your sweet, unselfish lies?
Do you think he doesn't know
your real motives?
Because he knows, and loves you,
He will not let you catapult yourself
back into tragedy.
He is hoping, given time,
Your pain will recede,
The addiction will subside,
He waits for madness to run its course.
He'll be waiting forever,
And he knows that too,
He loves you that much.
You are a tornado
Sweeping me into the sky,
A monsoon
Pulling me into the torrents.
I cannot hold my breath
Burning, bursting lungs
Straining, striving, seeking air.
What you deny me will **** me
What you withhold will destroy
You are an earthquake
Opening the ground,
Swallowing me whole,
Leaving me choking and broken,
Waiting for rescue, that will never come.
This little flower
is not blue and has no yellow heart.
It has no heart at all,
And instead of a slender green stem
There is a barbed wire stalk
Covered with tiny biting thorns.
I pick the blooms constantly
And scatter them throughout my home
Some in vases, and some just scattered so that
when encountered, those thorns will do the worst damage,
Only to me, of course, only to me.
I can't help reaching out my hand
to touch a petal, so pretty...
But my fingers always find the thorns instead.
I will come back to you
Wait for me here
I will come back
And find your face in the seething crowd
I will home in
And return, this will be my choice
Wait for me
And don't despair
I will be there.
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