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You know what that does to me,
when you hold yourself like that.
I know the wind tickles your fancies,
so you expose yourself,
bare chested to me
for maximum effect.

And you certainly get it from me.
The sight of solid perfection
& pulling sticky strings
from them with my plum
is as close to nirvana
as we're ever gonna get.

O here comes a strong breeze....
O darling please,
you're killing me.
First posted here on August 22, 2013
~~~~~

Every summer, I relearn a new language.
Every winter, it departs for warmer climes,
And its charms and naked arms,
Its own alphabet,
Clean forgot.

Multi-lingual in the summer's peculiar
One language, one aleph bet,
But mega-millions of dialects,
Know them all cold, know them all, hot.

I speak Woman.

Summer is soft, shapely, sweet,
Clean, bare, lush in a sparse way,
And Woman is spoken thusly.
There are no harsh sounds,
Guttural exclamations, nein!

I speak Woman.

There is no ugly in the summer.
Ugly being an ugly word.  
It cannot exist in an atmosphere of
Sun, greenery, sand, carefree days, vacations, no school.
There are no ugly women in the summer.

I could take this writ many places,
But if you are sputtering sexist or other labeling words,
Could not give a good *******, because in the summer,
There is no ugly, there is no prejudice.

And I still speak
Woman with an almost perfect fluency,
au naturel.

Gym clothes, short shorts, A-line skirts swishing in the breeze,
High, god, so high the heels, flats clip clopping, flip flopping
all over my heart,

But, it is the bare arms and the hints of summer
Cleavage, the short skirts, body hugging one piece fabrics
stretching from here to down there that do not
Hint,
The shoulder strap of the underthings that asks,
That commands me:
Wonder where it leads too...

Even the light shoulder wrap
Casual over bare shoulders slung, at night, mocks me,
Like gift wrapping with a smile demure...a teasing blindfold...

All these say:
Write us poetry in our very own tongue,
Woman.

Will oblige.

I curve with curve of the ***** and
invert with  S arc of the waist,
Mystifying, how it is the designed place
For my hands to grasp, and never fails.

The crayola colors of flesh variations,
Boggle the senses... How can tan and pale,
Dark and Light
Have so many
Symphonic variations?
Adagio, slow and leisurely, a pas de deux
For two eyes, then a
Timpani crash and thunder,
Just as Byron wrote:
"music arose with its voluptuous swell,"
Yes, swell...swell...voluptuous swell

Enough.
My eloquence, no match for my
Fluency.

Late August, and my vocabulary is already
Diminishing.
I forget how to say in
Woman
Without you I am nothing,
With you, I am more than everything,

Tho I can no longer say it well,
It is is still true and
Beyond belief.

August 2013
She rose above me
with her ruby lips
parted in a sigh.
I was hypnotized
by her glistening hard tips,
mesmerized by her shocking eyes
as she pulled silk strands
on her fingertips
spreading herself
to engulf me
with her love.
And how do you forget
a scene like her?
You don't,
you can't,
you never
stop thinking
about an angel
like her,
coming
from above.
for M*

never been good at it,
picking jobs, careers, wives,
was not one to
outline the steps,
to goals I could not
speak or define

so I bumped this way and that,
knocked down, dusted off, and
meandering, restarted and may,
unexpectedly,
have to do it
once again

once grooved,
let myself be fooled
by myself,
the best ole fooler I trusted,
that my track,
breeze to the back
was bumble free, straight,
planed and planned
and though accidentally,
what the heck

of course it never is...

you could write it all down,
the before, the softer,
the after, the harsher,
and the middle muddle
of visions hazy,
when you are too lazy
to engage

and to those of you
who see it clear,
on yellow pads and blue lines,
write down step one and two,
god bless you

Know though

there is no such thing
as free and easy
from the curves
that come up fast,
so fast that they
strangle you
near to death
or even past it

you can't imagine it,
I know, you can't,
and those who can,
likely no longer need to imagine it

but when you dare do,
clench eyes and make that ugliest rare bird
come to front and foremost
come to mind, you make it
fly to disappear,
to rarefied air,
where it,
you beg stay

and you do some good,
stupidly think you've collected
celestial brownie points that will
preserve and protect,
but in a flash bang
they have expired
just before the when you
needed them most

so go about your business,
but make no mistake,
others are going about it too,
their surprises the kind that
long term planners call disruptive

sure be sensible,
have a nest egg, a will,
good neighbors if you can,
top off the liquids
that life requires to
make the machinery run silent

work hard, pay attention
to the subtle changes
in your environment,
even hurricanes have a season,
and may you have a
go-bag in a closet,
gas in the tank,
for those days that are the
inevitable
works-in-process

but the only long term plan
that will you true require,
the one thing that will
save your neck,
chance you a chance
to defeat the unforeseen,
is not of paper, steel,
or money green,
it is character

I won't define it. You know it,
You make and or destroy it.

every day set some aside,
climb into night bed,
and recall the empathy
granted and given,
and from that,
build your own storage unit
for it won't be a mere rainy day,
but hail and volcano that will
leave you questioning existence

justify why you daily breathe,
and then exhale,
and say,
I go on
for I am of worth

this is long term planning,
survivor's insurance

This the only way to survive,
the days of reckoning
that you cannot reckon,
the days of wreck and tumult

but if you possess
character,
you will go on

ok, ok
what is character?
why it is that exact moment
when overwhelmed by the tumult,
you acknowledge that nonetheless,
you have the what and the wherewithal
to make it better
for someone else.
I learned about love
in the arms
of a talented woman,
skilled in the finer arts
& a little bit older,
so distinguished.

She showed me sweet things
that the boys & I saw,
read about only in the girlie magazines.
I learned a lot about certain aspects,
the most sensitive parts
of the human anatomy.
There were elements of geometry,
chemical reactions & a sacred order
practiced on this pathway to nirvana.
I was taught
while pictures & words were one thing,
real flesh was everything.
Tender Kisses and soft touching
were greatly impressed upon me.

She sealed my fate
from our very first date
& I've been smitten ever since
with such intimate,
sensuous acts,
a willing prisoner
to her fine memory
with no escape.
I loved a butterfly once,
it was beautiful.
so iridescent & fragile,
I had to let it go,
flutter free.
And, it never came back
to me,
sadly.
 Jul 2014 Mike T Minehan
Kay
well ****

I finally stopped crying

I may have spent a lot my time stumbling to stand and drunk texting all his friends
but I was happier than I've ever been

you came into my life for barely 2 months
and now I'm back into the same sadness it took me almost 6 months to get out of

I'm tired of feeling angry
shouting stupid words i don't mean

you can't calm me down
not this time

i changed for you
but you changed me for the worst

I feel empty
the only thing I feel are the tears rushing down my cheeks
and the ache in my throat after shouting
sometimes I even feel the blood rushing down my hand after picking up the glass

I fell in love,
again

I must admit
I didn't think it was possible

but once I met you I know it would be inevitable to fall in love with you

I am once again drowning in sadness and regret
I am drowning in my own tears

I can't take it

I got through a heart break once
I can do it again, right?

you love me?
then please, let me go
Everybody wants
to be like Bukowski,
that drunken
drug-induced
crazed-scholar
born on the edge of existence,
who tested the poetic boundaries,
who spewed forth sacred *****
from his mind of brilliant depravity
& who loved the starry nights
& the suckling robins
of the early summer.

And pray tell me
my fellow sojourners,
how does one get like that,
get strung out
on this living
kissing heaven
& embrace hell
without
the use of
tasty liquid-vices
& those ******
****** injections.

******.
gray grey, the athletic color,
of this uniformed tunic,
you'd know instantly,
no matter how one spells it

the navy lettering fading nicely,
time delayed capsules of soap,
eroding it,
as per schedule

the collar,
if I may permission granted
to describe the aperture hole
for there the head thinks to emerge,
separating, the seam having suffered
the slings and arrows of intercontinental
washing devices who knew not tenderness
in the dry and rumble tumble cycle of life

having taking to the graveyard a
pale blue Gap thin one, stained with red badges,
courageous Heinz ketchup bloodied medals of repasts glorious,
that resisted my entreaties
and numerous stain stick applications,

I concede to her entreaties
and mark it upright,
consigned to be ferried to the dump,
for a state funeral,
dead and buried,
silence, its last protesting verb

but not my Old Navy
matching beard color one,
the one in which I write this,
and so many other oeuvres

sentimental and memorizing
each little pockmarked hole,
so overcome of the notion of its dispatch,
stalk off to the crest overlooking
my beloved beach, and
the bunnies and the ants ask,
poet,what ails ya?

I cannot lie to them,
my co-creators,
and co-inspirators

I have seen better days and better poets
come past, striding on the beach
with purpose and clairvoyant craft,
with no looking back,
glorious their facile winged tongues and feet

my garb, my skills, like my
Old Navy T shirt,
pockmarked and worn,
she wants to take it too,
but when I read my old work,
weep loudly but demi-privately,
for I am clearly spent,
yet I refuse her begging "requests"

the better best part of me, rent,
I fear they will soon come
for me and my declining residuals,
like they did for,
King Lear and Humpty Dumpty

me, in the T shirt,
no more

for all the King's Men,
and his sailors of the wordy seas,
will know I am beyond repair,
cannot be put back to where I once was,
so out to the bay,
taking me there to reside,
burial at sea,
nonetheless dis'd by an honorable death

for that is the only way,
they can final extinguish
all at once, all of
the last of these grayed embers,
that flicker bright before they
self extinguish
~~~~~~~~~~~
3:47pm Silver Beach,
June 29, 2014
after re-reading,
Evening-tide: Dementia, King Lear, Humpty Dumpty and Me
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