Oct 2015
THE TASTE OF SYNONYM*
The odor of stale beer danced
with the steel blue smoke,
while Ska beats filled the air
with electricity.
As the room filled,
a thousand words spoke
all at once, loudly,
making it seem like a small riot.
Amidst the noise of confusion
and polemical anticipation,
I saw you stare.
You came at me with tight jeans,
a feminine sway,
and a slightly ruby smile.
You came at me
like an afternoon thunder storm
with lips tasting of cinnamon- synonyms
and dark brown eyes.
But it was in the symmetry of nuance
and the way you nestled easily
within the folds of my arms;
the way faded jeans and
oft washed flannel shirt
felt like home.
It was in the symmetry of morning delights,
of your creamy antonyms
melting on my tongue, that inspired
as I explored your perfumed valleys,
roamed your mountain tips.
And I went to you in simile,
with a smile that said:
I walk no longer in shadow,
but in the moonlight of your eyes.
I went to you
with Neruda on my lips
and Enigma as my guide,
singing the Blues in Haiku tones,
painted as inquisitive whys.
I came at you
with poetry in my heart
and your synonymous taste on my lips.
I came at you
like gentle summer sips
of sonnet-flavored rain.
You came at me in synonyms;
and I replied with cinnamon and rhyme:
come, speak to me of time,
art,
and the rhythm of the night sky.
Aztec Warrior
https://soundcloud.com/user-520857625/the-taste-of-synonym
The odor of stale beer danced
with the steel blue smoke,
while Ska beats filled the air
with electricity.
As the room filled,
a thousand words spoke
all at once, loudly,
making it seem like a small riot.
Amidst the noise of confusion
and polemical anticipation,
I saw you stare.
You came at me with tight jeans,
a feminine sway,
and a slightly ruby smile.
You came at me
like an afternoon thunder storm
with lips tasting of cinnamon- synonyms
and dark brown eyes.
But it was in the symmetry of nuance
and the way you nestled easily
within the folds of my arms;
the way faded jeans and
oft washed flannel shirt
felt like home.
It was in the symmetry of morning delights,
of your creamy antonyms
melting on my tongue, that inspired
as I explored your perfumed valleys,
roamed your mountain tips.
And I went to you in simile,
with a smile that said:
I walk no longer in shadow,
but in the moonlight of your eyes.
I went to you
with Neruda on my lips
and Enigma as my guide,
singing the Blues in Haiku tones,
painted as inquisitive whys.
I came at you
with poetry in my heart
and your synonymous taste on my lips.
I came at you
like gentle summer sips
of sonnet-flavored rain.
You came at me in synonyms;
and I replied with cinnamon and rhyme:
come, speak to me of time,
art,
and the rhythm of the night sky.
Aztec Warrior
https://soundcloud.com/user-520857625/the-taste-of-synonym
(NYC)
Please log in to view and add comments on poems
