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 Nov 2012 Emily Jones
brooke
How do
things
become
well with
your soul?
(c) Brooke Otto
 Nov 2012 Emily Jones
Janette
Slide into the path of our journey
Follow the map along my spine
With breathless lips.......

                  




Night's dark flowers swell
Silver bells,
Among my heart's wet pulsing,
Thoughts wild, utter me Autumn
Like a feather of Vespers;
An owl sings
A dark reveille in moonlit guise
And shadow traced
Lulling chants
Marry me to yesterday...




Midnight,
Combs a phantom of hands
The memory of you
Shaking the blue sky from my hair,
Coaxing that purring at the back of my throat,
My song, held hostage
Amid the still of the night,
I feel you now, as words flow
From the flesh of your tongue
A…murmured heartbeat...



Tangles me tender, beneath breath
Softening sadness inside
A pandemonium of bruised echoes,
Calling…
My voice
Naked as moon,
Intoxicating scents of desire,
Fierce, cathartic, ripe, unraveled
Inside you...



Feel me now...
Through the fleece of memory,
Pulsating passion through our veins
Feel me now...
My breath on your cheek
Lips brushing over your skin
Feel me now...
My tongue dividing your mouth
Kissing you harder and deeper
Released now
Intoxicating scents of desire,
Orgasming into serenity..............
 Nov 2012 Emily Jones
brooke
If I were viscous,paint in an open bucket
congealed raisin bran in a bowl, sort of like
crystallized honey, grainy, comatose with
sugar
would you still
love me
(c) Brooke Otto
There you are, boy, all apatter with
‘Whats the matters’ and those rainy eyes that
look out but don’t want to be looked into
for too long, drier now, memorising cracks.
Forget those useless stomach-drops you feel
you ought to feel, stand taller, be prouder.
Say goodbye to your knees from me, closer
then, the map of falls that took the gravel
with the breeze that were vision’s blinker-walls.
Thank you for the memories you put away
for rainy days, my repository, the
treasure trove of touchstones you didn’t skim.
Every tear and every maple seed you threw:
I still want to make sense of it all for you.
 Oct 2012 Emily Jones
Janette
This is dedicated to the ideal of free women everywhere






I have a voice
even though you
have tried to
silence me all
of these years



I have value
beyond your
concept of me
as property, brood
mare, slave



I have vision
beyond the confines
of your domestic
expectations, I
want to breathe



I have opinions
that are not yours,
I will not ask
for permission
to share them



I have ideas
you cannot cage,
my thoughts fly
on Favonian winds



I have freedom,
your patriarchy
shall not choke
the goddess that
lives and breathes
in all women



I have solidarity
with sisters, brothers,
together we swim
against the tides
of iniquity



I have love
To battle your hatred

I have faith
To battle your doubt

I have hope
To battle your misogyny

I have a dream
that even you
cannot change...
I have been asked to write some poetry for White Ribbon Week...this cause is so precious to my heart... I understand ...and do not forget how violence wreaks destruction..
 Oct 2012 Emily Jones
brooke
Candid.
 Oct 2012 Emily Jones
brooke
Are you blowing bits of glitter and
alcohol now, holding girls' hands

drowning

in the smell
of Obsession by Calvin Klein
(warm, but musky, bergamot, makes me want to kiss necks)
Are you having fun over there, pretending [lying]
like you did
with me?
(c) Brooke Otto
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