Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Martin Narrod May 2014
Gold crown of Olympus, hair crown and
Skin gown. First we throw our bodies at
One another. Heaping piles of human soup.
Bold maneuvers, hands and mouths and
Boy meets girl lying down, on top, intertwined.
Skittish moves on a tryst. Wet fingers of freshly
Tendered infinite decibel pleasure screams.
Streamers above a long rooting movement.

Overture of Aphrodite. Sparkling, glitter woman,
Legs pressed tightly to the chest,
Loose appendages intertwined. Intersticed dactyls
In rapture, soothing. Bodies build to one heart's beat.
Two muses fused together. If I wasn't afraid I'd wake you up
I'd slip on my shoes and make a tropical fruit fondue.

Stage two:

Ice cream lover's delight. Opus to brown sugar.
To swimming again, a pursed lurking of lips
In the academy of the pastoral commonwealth.
We eat at our stations of the sublime. Today which was
A day of discord- you nursed me back to the land of the living.

Stage three:

***.

Stage four.

***.

Stage five:

As we earn our pageantry to take
Stride on this Earth, and string a
Great bow of eager success among all of us,
You, me, them. While I continue to
Gaze at you. If not dinner, perhaps a
Cup of tea instead.
H W Erellson Dec 2013
I wake up in the morning
And slip on a pair of boots
But I realise apart from this
I am naked
So I dress and undress and dress again
But now I’m wearing no boots
So I think and I dress again
But no I have no voice
So I undress and pace and dress
But now I am the opposite ***;
Now a dog; a cat; a door

(this is all very complicated and confusing
Let me assure you that.)

So I try again
But these are childs clothes
Now there are no clothes

So I return to bed where I am ****.
For Frank O' Hara, the man who built New York.

— The End —