I refer to you and frankly I cannot stop.
I once heard a gypsy sing not anything of this world.
I doubt her song was for me.
I referred to her almost immediately.
Unapologetically removing myself from conclusion.
Frankly I just love hearing her talk.
Going from place to place.
It's very likely I never once moved.
Referring to her for immediate assistance.
Establishing chair in wait.
Youthful eyes wild & free.
Unable to tame the sunset.
Her sense of freedom.
Not anything of this world
I'll stoke the fires
with my wicked ways
I'll bewitch your nights
and I'll waste your days

I will whisper words
that'll make you swoon
and shake my hips
to a gypsy tune

I will dance for you
til my brow is wet
a girl like me
you have never met

My arrow is sharp
and I never miss
I'll make you mine
with a simple kiss
Johnny Noiπ Apr 16
Outside, night grew darker; stars retracing their paths and the hooded Klan riding through the countryside in search of the diabolical olive-skinned female. They circled their horses around a burning campfire with two covered wagons. These weren’t niggers but a clan of Romany pioneering west. Dismounting the robed and hooded Klansmen came out of the darkness and surrounded the lone man sitting at the small fire.
Whoreson’s voice muffled by the thick cotton fabric, said, “We’re hunting a witch, boy. You see any strange women?”
Getting to his feet the man picked up the simmering pewter coffee pot and pouring the contents onto the fire black night was immediate. Men at the rear of the pack were carrying torches that no longer cast any light; the Klansmen blind and unmoving. There was no sound; the explosion silent if that’s what it was. Robes aflame the Klansmen ran berserk and screaming into the woods. The fires wouldn’t go out as some managed to drop and roll; the forest catching ablaze the flames growing precipitously hotter; trapped by walls of white flame the men no longer seeing night were engulfed by the swelling light and heat.
from The Green Belle
Isla Apr 15
stay in one place too long
and the air becomes dust
choking me
drowning me
an urge to escape
like a gypsy
in the blanket of the night
but when i see those eyes
sparkling at me
shining for me
i know i am home
ahh yes, we need some more love poetry because why not. Might edit this later to make it not so lovey-dovey.
Calm before the storm
I've been wondering
Searching a safe space
Shifting my short stay

Near around,
Daydreaming break,
A walk of infinity
The time to close those eyes
Comforting the disturbed.
Genre: Abstract
Theme: Being Gypsy
Shared from my Anthology, Canvas: Echoes and Reflections, 2018.
E A Spain Feb 3
She won’t hide even though the storm is coming
The clouds try to distort and drown her face
But she’s brightly glowing, remaining sound
She’s my constant and she is peace
She lights our way to say the least
And you’ll look up to her in your sleep
As her waves calm you in the night
She will wane and wander til it’s light
Until all is right within everyone’s heart
Just another day goes by, we won’t always be apart
When the sun seems to stop shining, she’ll find me again
Beaming down with all her love
As if she’s more than a friend

Nateive Son Jan 15
$3 and the click of a mouse
Becomes $390 two months later

No rhyme
No reason
Just belief

In the same way that Manifest Destiny
Drove stragglers and no-no men to the edge of the ocean
Seeking something
I can now call up Japan
Just to say hello

It's amazing
That we're killing ourselves
By being so

Who is the greater fool?
Sudipta Maity Jan 12
The Gloomy hair river and eyes coal black;
In eclipse of half moon night,
its too quite to wisper.
Vegabond my sleep disappeared.
Light cold winter and my poor love;
the  old blanket which,
I am dyingly search for.
Rambler my sleep turns to subliming.
The dream hives is now break parts,
so i listen to ears, songs of night birds.
Gypsy my sleep fadded wonder.
I wraped my sheet with tight grips;
and she gives her sympathy by mild warming,
saying that you lost your sleep forever.
Where is the words for the pain,
touch of nicotine turn my lips brun.
......Oho my sleep come bake to me,
.....Oho my dream plsease be return.
sleep less night
Johnny Noiπ Dec 2017
From Prohibition on through the Great War
and into the 50s, the golden age
of stripping started with Minsky’s
and Mae Dix who sucked off black guys in the parlor---
The roaring twenties saw the very heart
of leather and denim rough trade rise from the golden sea,
WWI emerged and gave us Hitler who knew---
Dietrich & Riefenstahl, Hedy Lamarr & Louise Brooks
all were foreseen by Mata Hari et al,
predestined like Greta Garbo
and Bette Davis but the lights of Oz shone bright,
the corona of our Portuguese naked thing;
This thing on the news looks like European football---
Holy Mother of the atomic bomb and Korea,
look about the Ark for dry land
and sea the ancient city of Nippur
rises out of the ashes of the yuppy sun,
In galant fashion we cake-walked to our mother’s ancestral breaths---

The Russian-Futurist girl walks in
and winds the clock
Strippers who began in their teens
in the late twenties-early thirties
kept the new tradition alive
despite Modernists winds
blowing Sara Teasdale down 42nd Street
and right off the block
where she can see Ann Corio
rinse her stockings and
for one dollar she will deliver
you one tight hot nut,
she will not be shallow henceforth---

Victorian strippers were fat
to put it bluntly---
We all want a harem
that eats too much,
Solomon had more than one
horse-faced bitch from the South---
Victorian strippers were hairy
and sweaty as hell,
Their leotards showing off
Their cosmic curves---
I want to be immortal
and go back in time
and fuck whores in their twenties,
Victorians sweaty
and smelly, perfumed
and bathed by the maid, fuck her too,
And all before the movies silent or otherwise,
the yarns of heroes that fly
across IMAX screens
in another hundred years---
1917-2017, get it and go to 2117
Where the 21st century strippers go
We know why and how now,
The time-traveling mechanism
Merging singularities
Into a pre-calculated time,
a specific time in her sparrow’s voice,
elegantly fucked by the wormhole,
humid and naked, bitch---

Two, three or more singularities
merging in a coordinated precalculated timespace
altering the quantum time-effect,
what is call normal time,
bending into a single singularity,
if that is at all possible---
Somewhat like a fios cable,
but this is temporal and able to move
forward or backwards through time---
That questions whether one can move sideways in time;
teleport or subjective telekinesis---
Moving internally alters the objective setting,
that is one can travel through time
and space separately and together,
merging into one continuum or stream of time,
or time-frame as you’d have it---

LIGO meets Teasdale
and they fall in love
on the android colony on Mars
at dawn---
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