last night
as I soaked my feet
       in hot water and fragrant oils
           put on some
              Bollywood tunes
           and let my hips
         start to sway
my head began
to swoon
and the binding
threads holding me so tight
inside myself
      began to fray
          my chest opening in
             rips and starts
                 to reveal its valves
             in engorged release
       of dark magenta shadows
of teasing, gnashing inner beasts
while this was going on
the moon lit up
around me
      in its eight different phases
its halves and crescents
        shimmering    
in incense-scented cadence
my fingers reached out
to stroke each one,
          unique in its own heated glow              
                          as I realized that
               they will never cease,
these sequined
streams of joy
in embroidered flow
as long as we are connected
            to the root point of self
the love pumps quiet fire
                         in our veins
           even when trapped    
in slamming undertow
     pressed tornado slab
                              of pain
and I have had my face
pressed under watery surfaces
for such a long time
that suffocation
almost feels like
        breathing
so it's time to
move these hips and thighs
                and get this soulspark
                                                 reeling

Sometimes you don't realise
that all these eyes just distract your mind
with sensations of being unaligned.

Time frozen
Horns blaring
Heart thumping
Palms wetted
Words in whorls
Nebulous thinking
Thoughts in twirls
Spinning in circles
Gaze hypnotic
Moment surreal
Vision kaleidoscopic
Life chromatic
Living hallucinogenic
Gone tripping
Psychedelic eyes
In psychedelic mind
Once more
Loved again

©  2017 Jim Davis

Drifting like a feather in the wind,
Being carried here and there,  
In love's windstorm, around I'm spun,
Just a prisoner of the air  

Floating and tumbling in turbulence,  
Once more  being turned around,    
At any time expecting love      
To cruelly dash me to the ground  

Dancing like a feather in the wind  
With no solid ground to tread;  
While floating over restless waves,  
It's the cross current that I dread  

A feather.... just floating.... in the wind,  
How I fear the hurricane! 
The raging  winds of love's deceit  
That would see my hopes and dreams slain

Twisting and turning, out of control,  
Surrender the sole recourse;    
Let the winds of love have their way,  
Blustering with their awesome force!  

Just a feather carried by the wind,  
Sanity becomes a blur;
I rise, then I fall helplessly
While begging the wind not to stir!

Music, the wind
I was a wave, upon the ocean
A leaf, free,
and floating untethered from the branch
In those instances, no longer mortal
I WAS every emotion contained in flesh
A bird, fearless
in a hurricane
I made love with every note,
every melodie
Crescendo, was *******
The music caressed every part of me
from the inside out
Kissed my toes,
as a long lost Love
Cradled my soul,
like I was a newly born child
To dance,
for me, was heaven
and hell
It is living and dying,
in an ethreal universe
where only beauty exists

For you, my friend;)

This is my bargain.
Day for night
and night for day.

There isn't a time where I hadn't wished
that the day would end to make way for night.

Nights offer a bleak sense of comfort.
Almost as if they'd grant a temporary cloak which
you could huddle under and think or...
Overthink in the dark.

You could bargain shamelessly with tears running streams down your face and no one could see.
You could negotiate with reality for the slight perchance that things would turn out alright come daylight.
You could voice out your barter in hushed tones and still be somewhat assured that no one would know.
All of this...
In the cover of night.

Then when sleep eludes, you can't help but beg for day to come.
For with the light comes the day's responsibilities; all eager and raring to go.
Much like runners at the start line, anticipating the shot to be fired at the crack of dawn.
Shot fired and they'd come swooping down on you...
Sweeping you off your feet and carries you off to where you need to be, doing what you're paid to do for the next 8 to 10 hours.

That is your break from the dark.
That is your retreat from all the thinking.
That is your escape from... yourself.

And then...
4 hours into the day, you're wishing for night again.