-- when I have the tenderness of a writhing dragon,
he will paint flowers across my throat

as though to remind me that fires are indelicate,
and that I writhe in a prison made of open space.
-- this man will not smother me with his skin
when we sleep.
-- this man will unhinge the door of my mouth,
and kiss out the bullets stuck under my tongue.
                                                                ­               ---
whatever thousandth day I awaken beside this man,
realizing I have become the flowers he painted
across my throat, by braving my throat,

I will, unchaining myself from the draconic worry,
bring him his coffee in bed, with a smile.

Indelicate is he who loathes
The aspect of his fleshy clothes, --
The flying fabric stitched on bone,
The vesture of the skeleton,
The garment neither fur nor hair,
The cloak of evil and despair,
The veil long violated by
Caresses of the hand and eye.
Yet such is my unseemliness:
I hate my epidermal dress,
The savage blood's obscenity,
The rags of my anatomy,
And willingly would I dispense
With false accouterments of sense,
To sleep immodestly, a most
Incarnadine and carnal ghost.

The man sleeping in the diner’s back booth
will not care  if your mother suffers  from
plantar diabetic neuropathy or that your
children read **** and steal *****.  

No,  trivial matters will be of no worry
to him because he ****** himself while
dormant and leaving  without  others
knowing will be of primary concern.

Beauty all over
No one cared to notice
Open your eyes

Touch offers the deepest clue to the mystery of encounter, awakening and belonging.*
John O'Donohue



Child grips the ******
indelicate with haste and
stern impatience a
cradle of warm fleshy love
rucked in the dark of her arms.


Shiloh Harmitt

What will you have, asked the waitress,
A death sandwich I replied,
Mustard and ketchup, she continued,
Yes and slather the mayo, double the cheese, I answered back politely,
You’re aura is a spiral, she said, whole wheat or white,
White with butter and does it come with final fries, I queried,
Included, she replied
And a new indelicate sugar fix by the pail.
Make mine to go, I suggested.
Want to quantum up and get a piece of plague cake
Maybe **** cookies in a bowl.
What a wonderful time to be alive I remarked,
The only generation to ever eat itself to death she quipped,
We’re special I said and looked away.

Her smile held my hand
As I led her up the grand staircase
She pulled on her pleats
And carefully took her place
To be gazed upon and worshipped
Buttressed by my approval
A saint of ****** desire
She could not foreshadow her removal
As the glow of my delusion shines
She is unaware
Assuming her immortality
Cloaked by the intensity of my stare
Unspoken words are felt
She believes she has been pardoned
Mere beauty enough
For her heart had softened
Soon she paces
Back and forth in her discomfort
As for a moment
She lost her golden support
I dared avert my eye
To live if only for a moment
Alone and in control
Yet it only caused her torment
Her angelic eyes turned red
Her ***** sighed
Suddenly she realized
Her subject had lied
It was not eternal love
Or forgiving grace
Instead it was seduction
In his hands he held lace
As long as she was pretty
And demure in his presence
She could live on as a goddess
While faking its essence
What happened?
How did she lose control?
Assuming her power
She failed to see what he stole
Yes the princess
Has given her virtue
To an artful lover
Who pretended to be true
Her mistake
Was failing to heed his writ
Don't mistake my kindness
For weakness of the spirit
My power to love
Can be removed at will
As long as you are worthy
It will remain still
Spoiled by her parade
The queen commands
Her subject turns away
And begins making plans
Removing the grand staircase
He prefers an indelicate fall
The music has stopped
It is the end of the ball
Shocked to be so discarded
Once prized now yesterday's refuse
Devastated by her turning fate
She lives as a recluse
The Monarch
Sheds it's wings
Crawling back to her cocoon
Solitude the sadness to which she clings
The gaze is empty
He rises from his knee
Turning to another
She hears his heart plea
Take my hand
And mount my pedestal
Let me worship you
He smiles as she becomes ornamental
Another glass to break
Another jewel to steal
His passion unending
As the conquest is greater than what he feels

Just like Eminem,
I'm not afraid to take a stand
If that is what it would take to make you
comprehend
That this adulation spawns me to be
mettlesome
I was impatient to wait for the time,so I
purchased a new watch our time has come
Been in many debauched rapports
All resulted a faux pas because I invested less
effort
Not rueful, but from this juncture I prospect
to be more perfect
I'm not afraid
To take a stand
If that is what it would take to make you
comprehend
I was improvident but I'm devising to be
provident
I was impatient but I'm outlining to be patient
I am stubborn but I'm willing to be adamant
You said I'm indelicate I'm willing to be decent
I'm not afraid
To take a stand
If that is what it would take to make you
understand
That I'm for you and only you
I'm executed from dishonesty, I take an oath
to be true
I'm not afraid
To take a stand
Even if that is what will make you understand
That I love you and only you...
Siyanda

Fleeting memories
A crushing weight
Thoughts swirl
A chaotic dance
Morbid and morose
I shudder
Sigh
Lock the door
My heart is closed
I am empty streets
And howling winds
An onslaught
Of indelicate ideas
Leaves rushing
As water
I am bleak
I long to crumble
And return to dust
To spread out
Into the vast blackness
Vacuum of the infinite
I am all
I am nothing
Existence is illusion
Dreams are more real
Yet
I do not sleep
For I fear to wake
So I remain
Ever here
Ever there
Never here
Never there
Neither
Both
Ensconced between
Light and dark
Good and evil
Life and death
Alone
Forever
Thus
I despair.
Souvenirs fugaces
Un poids écrasant
Pensées tourbillon
Une danse chaotique
Morbide et morose
Je frémis
Soupir
Verrouillez la porte
Mon cœur est fermé
Je suis rues vides
Et vents hurlants
Une attaque
D'idées indélicats
Feuilles précipiter
Comme l'eau
Je suis triste
J'ai longtemps à s'effriter
Et retourner à la poussière
Pour étaler
Dans la grande noirceur
Vide de l'infini
Je suis tout
Je ne suis rien
L'existence est illusion
Les rêves sont plus réels
Pourtant,
Je ne dors pas
Car je crains de réveiller
Donc, je reste
Jamais ici
Jamais il
Jamais ici
Jamais il
Aucun
Tous les deux
Enclavée entre
Lumière et obscurité
Bien et le mal
La vie et la mort
Seul
Toujours
Ainsi,
Je désespère.

Peace got clothes to wear
that are called democracy
and are also worn by others

doppelgangers on the stage
of the power that they serve
as an extra or a puppet

It's an easy role
but in real life it is great
self-control and a matter

of patience to understand others
and to convince each other
of a public interest

This is how the Great Law
of Peace works along the Panther Lake
and the Sparkling Water

listening and consulting
without ventriloquism
or indelicate word