Lotus: Favorites

Crest of the wave shoulders
moulded into the final box;
Russian doll soldiers
have nothing on this once free-bus-pass holder.

Open the windows to the let the fresh death out,
past the PVC French doors, triple glazed
and no doubt worth their weight in gold.

Tidy up her lips with thread reinforced with care
and a careful hand tidied up in a well healed white gloved pair.

The next-to-the-cemetery funeral home sits not far from Wakefield

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Aug 2013 Lotus

Mantra

Aug 2013 Lotus

BB Tyler

Mantra

I have faith in the omnipotence
of my true self
and am not distracted,
discouraged, or worried
by those matters in which
I feel
I have no control.

Aug 2013 Lotus

In Turn

Aug 2013 Lotus

BB Tyler

In Turn

Flame unburning,
ever bright,
turn the darkness
into light!

Eyes uncovered,
sacred sight,
turn the day time
into night.

Aug 2013 Lotus

Love

Aug 2013 Lotus

Anubis the Philosomancer

Love

I don't want to ****,
I want to make love;
to caress her cheek with one hand
and to hold her hand,
fingers interlaced,
with the other.

I don't want to ****,
I want to express passion;
to kiss fervidly, yet sweetly,
and then to look her in the Eyes
struggling to gasp the words
“****, I love you!”

I don't want to ****,
I want to just cuddle naked;
to feel our mutual Skin
with and without friction,
with and without hair,
or sweat, or light;
resting, or not,
upon each other.

I don't want to ****,
I want to feel a connection
transcending the physical:
I want to feel the warmth of true Love;
in my Heart,
in my Mind,
in my Soul,
as well as
on my Skin.

This came to me in the shower;
so I got out and wrote it down.
Then, I decided to share it.

I can't tell if this is a dream or a memory;
it seems to be a bit of both.

Aug 2013 Lotus

tumbling through the thicket

Aug 2013 Lotus

Pen Lux

tumbling through the thicket

I wake to push the sunrise back,
peeling my face from dreams
reality beams as my passage.
light storms through the peace,
questions arise, flooding in.
mourning commences routinely
as we find ourselves in the rapids.

white rocks, rocks that look as if they might explode.
rocks of your eyes, as they change color.
trees as your arms, with mountains for scars.

raw skies that break
and bellow
as they laugh with us.

leaving minds, we sift with fevered hesitation.
gently crippling for a quick ****, the catch
was almost effortless as my mouth became
a staircase. as I watched everything I wanted
ascend with my assistance, I realized no more
of it was for me and there was no more I could take.
No more that I could want.

desires chants no longer engulfing this fragile figure,
transparency threaded through the thick and soon
this figure became no longer lace, no longer tender.
this figure molds, meshes with the recess atmosphere
and dissipates into structures too bold for distinction.