In the moon light
Our faces glow and show another side
Bringing out a different kind of primal desire
For what's done in the shadows of the night
Is not always exploited when the sun shines bright
If we avoid the all seeing eyes of our street's design

I am dancing naked under the moon
Out of touch but in tune
Howling to consume
Every last shred of modesty
In all honesty
I've been yearning to unleash the beast
Death rolling inside of me

Hair raised while eyes dilate
You cant sedate this lusting
Confounded by the sight of her majesty
I melt and cave
To the awkward drum beat
Calling me

the fog swallowed the dawn,
the sky is left hungry.

im so tired
weary
of cliches
"jet black"
"startling green"
"angry red"
you have thousands of words sleeping on
even the smallest bit of your fingernail,
but you refuse to leave the comfort
of words already said.

stop being afraid to yell into the
murky atmosphere of this spinning world
that you are not a cliche,
you are a burning fire
with insides of
rupturing darkness,
and dripping, drying green,
and soft, whispering red.

you are a poet,
use the tools of creation which the universe
has planted within your palms.

The cliffs totter as they fall into the sea.
Near silent cove hides secret rock pools.
Revealed  only as tide dispersed.
Scattered pebbles rotund.
Shiny, worn into seas virtual jewels.
Find sometimes a flattened one, an oddity.
Perceived monotone stones lay silent, almost sullen.
A scrutiny of eyes close up.
Reveal cold visage.
Hard cold features, static.
The young ones come with parents in tow.
Collect a few before they go.
Discharged duty of suffering waves lash.
Shower of rain will sometimes wash.
To a rockery in the garden those precious stones are relocated.
Memories of a trip to the beach perfectly recreated.
(C) LIVVI  2014

all i ever do
is crave cigarettes and crave you

Deceased in thought.
Travesty of gross injustice.
He is still here, his heart survived.
He lives, he breathes with influence as a toxic worm.
Perhaps a vampire,draining life from dying souls, awaiting breaths last gasp.
Law of double effects, **** or cure?
Maybe just a mega- high.
Expressionless face.
Eyes sunken as if the tide has overtaken the sure.
The sure and certain resurrection to a better place.
Was desertion really your type-cast role?
Ready not to leave the Earth and all her pleasantries.
A soldier of misfortune reaching only for the moon.
(C) LIvvi