Energy streams of positive thoughts
flow within, birthing miracles.
The attitude lets me balance,
while moving between earth and sky.

I breath and feel gratitude.
I open eyes and see beauty.
I dance and my heart sends love.

I sing and birds sing with me.
I move and wind hugs.
I focus and manifest dreams.

Energy streams of positive thoughts
expand within birthing miracles.
The vibration lets me feel blessed,
while I celebrate as Avatar of Love
on stage and gift of life.



StarBG © 2017

I miss the Painted Lady
The way she strides on top of murky depths
Making it pristine like rain down crystal beams
Like a white tipped brush that sweeps one with grace

The way she erotically leaps from ripple to ripple
With her gestures like man in amphitheatres
I, longing for when she dove for blackness say
I miss the Painted Lady.

Reaching out across the stars,
we've had to fight since birth,
so that our burning avatars
could unite our lights on earth.

Arms raised not to withdraw
beneath the crying horizon,
a closing coup de grâce
where a shattered moon is rising.

Towards one another we race
with no space left to divide
the endless dancing embrace
of two worlds that finally collide.

1.
This blue one is my favorite,
in the peak of ****** excitement
she calls me "Devil" between
sweet obscenities and tender bites
that lets me decide her species
a killer whale she is.
2.
I fell in love with this aspect
at the very first sight,
the easy buoyancy of the cuttle fish,
Ah! the delicate squid in my dreams
in her transforamtive  rigor of
peripatetic desire.Above me she hovers,
we are entangled with the strands of clouds.
In the soft poetic squid folds,
my desires find  discharge.
3.
Octopus, oh my perfect metaphor for desire,
are you strictly a fish by definition, I muse
though a mollusc, who cares, as long as your
supple tendrils, know how to touch and arouse
allow pleasure to flow through eight ducts,
would take you as the equivalent of a bisexual yen
in your tight binding  and sucker amour,
under water I am the  slave for your pleasure,
bleeding amour in equal measure
on each embrace.
4.
Gold fish is a cliche, but is it  her fault?
when  frothing orange morning sun
seeps  in to her spacious glass cage
she is another rich kid, seeking pleasure
and when she sings with her wings
dreamily moves, a pendent of Gods she is
my longing see the  cliche, yet oh! such  *** appeal,
my tactile desire, is more alacritous than being tactical.

Night appears in an avatar
of a sweet chaperon,
coming with a lovely dark gown
to dress the shy, blushing evening
cajoling her for a slow make over,
she implies, it's better letting
the will of darkness prevail.

Now she is a perfect charmer
night, lets her long dark tresses
loose, that flows in waves
down through her back and
caresses her rotund proud buttocks,
adding to her silent grandeur,
till the next spectacular day breaks.

Night is an ace  temptress
with full moon at her side
as an irresistible  magical charm
to sway even nature, catch
the sea in her net,
of attraction and makes it  dance,
bewitching night makes
the stars in her coiffure gleam.

Night is an agile courtesan,
having royal patronage,
eyeing you wistfully,
hellbent upon her this day's conquest,
her amatory skills one can tell
will be *****,she is classy nevertheless.
In her boudoir, women are salacious,
hungry men too dance to her tunes,
what you gain after a spirited
amorous duel, is the gift of dark eyed night.