one thing then another, as   all regular days     really.



graphs will show it, we can draw ,        we may discuss.

if we wish,                                                  walk the graden

play with spelling with                                   punctuation.



this is no disaster,                 word survival          deleted.



we have
moved the line into a place of hedges, rural contemplation.

they say it begins at home,  that depends on                 belief.



we eat off broken plates.



titanic.



sbm.

Till you can’t walk
Till you are sore,
Yet still smiling
from the thrilling experience,
Till you are sweating pleasure
from every pore.
Till your breath murmurs
my first name with every inhale
Till my voice is the only sound
your ears need to hear.

i would
rest my head on your breast
and listen
Enjoy the sweet tunes composed by
every noted word you harmonize

Tales of your life stories before they became entwined with mine
Narratives about your dreams
About who breaks your glassy heart
And what tickles your eye-ducts
into opening a flood of tears.

an inner world of wishes
she deserves beautiful things,
The Nubian Queen,
Sunflower Child.

~ New-Black-SoUl #NBS

My mouth is wrapped in razor wire. The less said the better. Whole worlds are caught between my teeth. My eyes are somewhere between moons, and my nostrils breathe the mist of demons. My earlobes have the jewelry of vast continents. And my throat is strangled with amethyst tears. My hair wraps your shoulders. My pearls touch your belly. And my hands? They flutter like leaves in the wind to catch galaxies. I long to say the three words. But deserts live on my tongue.

Yet it takes only a moment to say goodbye.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 3/7/2016

i brought the potted plant into the kitchen
nobody remembered to water him
this week
and he was looking downtrodden
and wilty.

all that talk about
microwaved hotdogs
and pork chops cooked
a half dozen different ways
has made me slightly hungry

i have some granola bars
in my locker and
two and one half hours
until shift ends

looking forward to
seeing the inside of
these eyelids
insomnia has been crushing
all my best dreams lately

here's hoping
you have better
luck

Kiss me until
all the metaphors
vanish and poetry
becomes reality.

  ~mce

Art rests inside the vision of creativity
Art comes alive with that interpretation
Art is cultured from craft
Until a masterpiece has evolved

Jl 2016

Deep in the creek
where speckled light kisses the saline shore
and mud hole bubbles leave crab trails
I knock upon her door.

She opens with a whisper on her skin
licks my **** with her southern tongue
winds rise the dusts within
the mangrove falls quiet to her moaning song.