I want each step to land my foot tangled heather ash and soot. And lead to where the wicked go... where the darling schoolgirls know when to turn with redden hue gasping their intact virtue. Yet I long my footfall down- mossy sinfully buoyant ground. Run to meet him by the stone kiss him on it's granite bones. And he'll swing me wide with wonder pirate, he'll be, ravage. plunder. I go where all the good girls shant. all my christian vows recant. Yes I will meet him by the river
and onward I keep through the creeping myrtle, creep- and the sinners sandbox and painted ladies swings (where I rest my chastity case) that's covered in leather and ******* with lace. Delight as I watch good girls gasp- as I swing wide hips, wide. Thier ****** ******* clasps. And that night will give birth to a wretched new way I am wanton and crafty and unwelcome at tables-where ladies demure and insist on "no more!" and need polite conversations to endless relations. I'll roar down that path like a thundering herd, like an air stream that carries the weariest bird. I'm curved, I'm pillowed. I'm chest out. I'm willowed... I'll have holes in my souls all four of them dotted. Or six of them spotted? Like a cat's lives they'll feed so that reaper, recedes. It's this path, though, you see them? The Glories majestic. Twined up the tree trunk and my heart is arrested. I'm put in the mind of those sinewy women and sin comes in scent where that glory blooms nightly and clasp hold of these moments of recklessness tightly.
this one is still forming but thanks for sharing my work. check out my blog if you like my work.
Temper- now, now, there. He is man of raging waters- ease flees his body Like birds spooked by passing train. Time and truths drag down his shoulders as He walks his well-worn path to Earn his well-worn dollar. His arms limp to pick the tempest bottle That fill his flaccid faith with the warmth of a hundred singing choirs. Temper, now - hallelujah, hallelujah He fills his cup - king of kings- and pours it down the funnel of his spine, And like the clown that blows up balloon animals He blows up a lion blows up a fighting ****- He blows himself up into hope-into happy. Temper man, mine, I am branches of his trees Snapping in the sudden gale The storm that brews beneath his feet. I am what he preserves - what he destroys Makes me like one of his castles That drip-drop drip -drop rise in the sand I rise, towers blossom fragile Queen of Drip-drop Land - temper man watches it all wash away I am sullen and silent and stirring His madness alive as he tangos with electrified demons on the beach where I puddle. Oh how tiring it all is, And he'll wake to drag his medal with him As he walks the dusty road to clutch his dusty dollar So he may do it all again.
Thank you for sharing any thoughts or suggestions.
she is gone like the waves are to the sand she was there and then she's not. she is gone. like a hand is to the shake like the Eve is to the snake like the sun is to the morn she is gone. She has gone. like the path is to the lost. like the trees are to the roots. like the skin is to the snake she is gone. she is gone. like the kiss is to the cheek. like the strength is to the weak. she is gone. and still, and still he waits like the river rock he shakes but no movement will he make she is gone. he will bide his time like lakes she will roll like tides and take what is hers and what he left she is gone. and still he waits and still he waits. and time will edge and clip and she will dodge and she will duck she will shine and she will grab and still he waits. still he waits.
thank you as always, could not be more thrilled you share in my work.
it's so perfect. so divine. inside she finds that safe place and like a marble is blue like a gesture is small like yeast must rise- like the cat's eye, paw at you. because as the cat waits with the sunbeam she plays. the tea and the teacup- exquisitely she waits. she waits. empty she will. so deny still exquisitely majestically instinctively she waits. on her own bone china pretty little fragile thing on her own she waits, exquisitely she waits.
A waiting doll in your waiting corner where you left me to love me later. Your jointed, painted playmate stilled, eyes wide and thrilled where you left for solace someday. I am timepiece. mantel placed with Christmas lace? I am mark the date your ticking tock tock knock three chime movement, seconds flat chiseling out time to spend Am i your singing cherub child? Red faced ruddy, trilling and wild Am i your avec la voix des fleurs? a note that waits here on all fours patient to be heard to sing in lazy ear someday? waiting willing wanton woman serving sarcasm and delivering indifference to the audience that's left behind two cents to the dollar now and the floors electric with the sales of mighty stocks and mighty bales and two cooper, two is what i gave you. for the love of a girl in disgrace of her moral path shall you advance her or will she be placed below. two pennys two. between her and i. avec la voix avec, la voix.
sahn shannon april alice 11/24/2014 sahn 11/24/2014
come to me. to the floor where i kneel in front of you. follow me- pay attention close and bend. your will. your beliefs, your promises. your boundaries. your comfort. follow me with your stare as i slither back above the floor. and crawl over your expectations your judgments your rehearsed words dripping like drool from a baby's lip. delight, devine as i slide off this good girl's skin contain your greed disbelief desire while i take you up mountains in your mind, lover. i raise you from the center of the sky. while i blind you with lust 'till you feel silken places inside- so fragile they will tear ill bring the goblet to your mouth sir- with the richest ruby reds slither down your throat as if it were alive. oh yes, we will climb, feel the mount behind us holding us up... wind up so high must be stealing our breath I will give you touch, lover. the kind you never found in all your searches. the kind the does the touching with it's shadow not it's skin and the shadow dances to tickle in the most promising of places. yes ill give you whispers up here-bounce them around like a helium star slowly whisper here, bouncing, slowly whisper there. rake what used to be my fingers.... now though they are sticks from the forest bound together to glide through your silky hair and leave their beautiful pine scent. come to me, and share old magic just a baby of the woods- lay you on a bed of branches cold leaves, borough in your naked skin... bring to me now your empty pallet and fill my sorrow with your fight.
if i give to you a universe, you said to me this morning- what would you fill it with? a blank universe, you coaxed me this morning- tell me what i'd see. i said, unwillingly at first- i would not take your universe not your gift to give...not your stars. i would not take your universe if you gave it on bended knee. -but if i had a universe, a blank universe i'd fill it with ecstasy storms and kissing maids romping with bright hued braids twirling and child's first prayer that electrifies grass blades and butterscotch ice ponds and fields of wildflowers and books lining roadways and words raining sideways- with trains running backwards and time moving slowly with music for dinner and dancing for sadness with lovers and mothers and magic and you. perhaps i said, as i rolled close in the sheets i'd just fill it with you and i- and i would love you when the sun did shine and when the sun did not. and i would love you when you closed your eyes and i would love you as you wept. love you as you walked toes tickling my ground and sand and i would love you when you sneezed and as you sang and as you aged. and i would love you sleep to sleep- my tiny universe to keep.
thank you as always for taking the time to read my work.
I have climbed 300 steps and sat beside the butchers pets. I have etched in marble stone and rose in blankets made of bones. I have danced with withered ****** and laughed with sinning pirate bores I have taken flights of mind marched in armies of mankind. I have burned the church yard down danced on every hot red mound and dug out wells with pails of red and to the children gave ****** bread. I watched the sea swell with delight Gave hope to those with endless night I grieve by every paupers grave like lovers tears for the newly saved. I have sold off squares of skies to melt them off in poisoned pies. I have squander endless gold from rich men's purse that I've cajoled And I will drink my whiskey straight and make a list of what I hate. I will jump off areoplanes crashing through cathedral panes And I will topple endless trees upset the nest of surly bees. And if you don't contain my spill keep your promise in good will For I am simply lost at sea waiting that you come for me. For I am simply biding time waiting for that love of mine.*
There is funeral going on, hush for the death. quiet for the mourning, the dead demand respect. There is a death and I grieve you so pity on me and silence, I beg. let me tell you how I mourn you I yearn back our laughs in synchronized pops of noise one tinkling on bellowing with breathe. I am rage, full of bitter that I must grieve your hand as I know that hand so well! That hand held mine and so It must be that it were mine so Naturally I RAGE for the loss of my hand as well. Quiet. Stillness There is a procession See? We were happy once Perhaps it wasn't us that died. Perhaps is was contented's demise and we are still an ember of life and I am at the wrong funeral because we are still flickering a bit ...just a bit. it's all you need to start a fire a spark of yellow will do. I see red when I look and see your blue cornfield eyes I see yellow in the fuzzy field of your hair. Shh.. they are kneeling. Shhh Something has passed on but it's not us? Right? This is not final walk? There is hope... I showed it to you! Hope, we've just taken a wrong turn you and I This is not our funeral My hand doesn't grieve. My lips do whisper respect. Shhh. This is a funeral. Respect for the death.
thank you for taking you time to stop by, please leave a hello below...i'd like that rather much.