It landed for a rest
I suppose,
then out of nowhere
sprung two red ants
who grabbed its toes
on two seperate feet
with jagged mandibles.

You should have
witnessed the struggle.
They tumbled & turned,
spun & rumbled
end over end,
but the ants would not let go
until the wings of their prize
stopped.
And they eventually did
(& not without a fight).

I watched the killer-ants
slowly carry
their
family meal
back into the forest
on a tiny trail,
oblivious to the rest
of the dog-eat-dog world.

Send me words like gentle fingers,
poetic kisses, soft and slow,
send them here upon the ether
thoughts abound on starlight glow.
Words can bring such sweet sensation,
skin on skin fires lovers eyes,
hips and hearts in slow rotation
quiet moans and sated sighs.
Gently take my hand and lead me
to pleasure's peak, my heart's delight,
your words will be this souls companion
on this lonely moonstruck night.

by Sanders Bohlke**

Somewhere
I wanna go there
I wanna go there with you

Your light is my witness
Oh and your tears are my storm
And your grave is my enemy
Oh and your skin is my form

Somewhere
I wanna go there
I wanna go there with you

Your prayers are my treason
Oh and your rain is my hell
And your words are my freedom
And your soul is my shell

Somewhere
I wanna go there
I wanna go there with you

Your fire is my lifeblood
Oh and your heart is my throne
Oh and your will, oh your will is my fortune
Oh and your fate is my own

Somewhere
I wanna go there
I wanna go there with you

My English teacher asked us
to bring a poem in
one that really speaks to us
that resonates within
I did a lot of research
read poems through the night
Wordsworth, Keats, nor Shakespeare
could help me with my plight
I needed just one poem,
an expression to confess
my deeply burning hatred
of this teacher, unimpressed.
So I rifled through the classics,
through the bigwigs and the toffs
but all I found were thee's and thou's and an awful lot of doths
then I was sent a masterpiece
that describes these thoughts of mine
when this teacher says my poetry
is just a waste of time,
so I'll read it out in class today,
then with the Head I'll end up sat
but I'll always be so grateful
that John Cooper Clarke wrote ****.

Three hearts for thee divided,
Lust battles with duty for attention,
Making waves that drowned your cries,
Yet you persisted.

Three loves became one,
Your heart the sole victor,
To you go the spoils,
And yet you persisted.

One heart's love is yours entire,
Overworked and overwhelming,
Wounded soldiers make terrible bedmates,
And yet you persist.

Boredom settles,  silence reigns.
now stubborn heart calls wastrel's name.

Wake me slowly with wondering hands and aching need, that is all I ask. Sunlight may peek through drapes and blush at our waking if she will.
Lift me from crumpled sheets, warm and waiting, soft and willing.
Kiss every word on my skin, wind your fingers in my hair and dance with me to changing rhythms as morning fades.
Make me scream your name as the wild takes over. Base instinct rules as sanity dips and senses fill. Leave polite evolution at the door, we have no need of it now, we are our purest form in this moment, connected only by swollen desire, trembling now, I cling to myself as the levee breaks.

You and I are missing things
set aside, forgotten.
Dust falls heavy on broken shoulders
dislocated by light.
We mourn the loss of something,
though we know not the tangible feeling nor the name of that we lack,
just that it has gone.
We see it in others, a smile placed,
a hand held, a tear dried
and wonder at it's heavenly release,
as we lay chained at Hades gate by our own hated disposition.
I will sing for you a song of death, while blackness seeps from unclean hands.
I pray that you will see in me
all that others fear
and find it glorious.