Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2017
not until you have felt erotical goosebumps
running through your body with the northern wind,
a may so called it could awaken you
skeleton to prance, outside your body...
                  such cold of
a spring...
             but such that there is any eroticism
in that sensation? in that
               springtime cold?
                and that there is such a "thing"?
it almost feels like the antidote
to the western concept of
                  st. thomas' gospel
and the nag hammadi
                   entries...
          you want a "*** change"?
o earth, yawn and take these
poor souls to their graves,
but sacrifice their lot, not,
                   for the living next;
of those that ask: and what of the children
to come?
                   are we all really bore
people whether we grow a beard?
         and don unapproachable ideas?
what's that? is that even fashionable
                       these days?
cougar mama! what now? what now?
dunno... grow a beard and start
deeming yourself a philosopher,
    a vampire, a werewolf? huh? where who aloof?
as bad jokes go... that was a crusty pancake
of a joke, so don't mind it;
but i'm dead serious about
the cold of a may spring...
      it's not about the scent of flowers
suddenly oppening and going all
  berserker with an opulence of scents...
which could make anyone into
                a psilocybin-induced viking warrior,
or so they say.
                         but it's the cold, it's the cold...
it's so ****** ****** in that it gives me
    goosebumps...
              geese      bim bim, bim    bá      tá        too?
                 alt.                                  ba(h)  ta(h) tow in two?
is this becoming a jewish joke?
           am i going to deep-fry some bread to get
a bagel out, as if i was scottish and deep-fried a slice of pizza?
         come on!
             all i'm saying is that i find cold air ******,
    my ******* get hard, and i'm thinking about
            the hair on my abdoment and my eden region;
what's wrong with equating cold air
              with a "mild" form of eroticism?
Mateuš Conrad
Written by
Mateuš Conrad  36/M/Essex (England)
(36/M/Essex (England))   
343
   Gidgette
Please log in to view and add comments on poems