Kiss lips, hips twist-

Fingers fumble and miss,



Fist of hair, drum snare,

The crowd blares,



Fabric thin, trapped within,

Electric current, skin on skin,



**** tongue, come undone,

How it feels to chew Five® Gum.

I don’t want a poetic romance
I know, that’s a new one
it’s hard for folks to understand, sometimes
that I don’t want my lover to shine like the sun
I don’t need to see stars in his eyes
or think endlessly about the soft skin on his thighs
because my lover
can be whatever he **** well wants

who am I to walk in
to fold him into boxes
and metaphors like cages
my love
doesn’t look like yours
and if you think that’s an insult
take a step back and reconsider
what love is
what love means

because I call love that feeling that I can’t describe to you
because the words don’t exist yet
or if they do
they’re too simple for you and I to understand

breakfast

umbrella

teardrop

hold

my lover is all these things and more
and that is what I love for
maybe one day he will no longer be

umbrella

maybe I’ll look at him some time
and see that the breakfast in him
has faded away
and been replaced with something new
sand, maybe

poetry romance would tell me
that this means something
that I must look again
look closer
tear us apart until I find where it went
because in poetry
if you love something
you must grab it with both hands
for fear that it might escape

I’d like to argue that that isn’t love
but wanting

my lover is a swimming pool
cool and comfortable and jarring
at first
something from my childhood and my future
because we will never stop going
to the swimming pool

my lover is unfolded laundry
and all those unsightly things
that are part of us
morning breath
nervous sweat before a first date
finding out you don’t like the same movies
and knowing
that it’s okay

I am just a man
and so is he
and I am breathless with having him
and I dare to hope he is knocked breathless
with having me

as he does
as he did
as he will

Constriction is the missing key
To make subversion fleece through
Floss papers and faux notes
Knowing that no one would notice

But holy god if
Removal of all
Restraints and due process
Didn't make for some ****** up ****

Then it came full circle
If you ask me
Everyone is far too unnecessarily
Coy
All I can say is, whats the ******* point?

I swear, no one says what they mean
To protect whatever little
Artistic integrity
They might have left
Or drummed up in a futile attempt
To capitalize on a parasitic and spastic
Completely arbitrary meteoric rise

Like

I heard a song on the radio
That felt like static
******* why
Did someone take the time
To write lyrics
So insipid
Intrinsically missing
Every point attempted

Then second guessing
And cross guessing
And ******* up
And overdressing

Every single
******* word

And there was only like
Ten
Of them in the song anyway

Someone once said
I was far too blunt
And I should try and dance around my points

So I took out my thesaurus
Flipped straight to the word ****
And made it clear I didn't give a ****

Will of the world
Freedom for all
God given right. To ****. Them all.

Now we go

It's time to fall
Right out of line
It's time to go

We go

Round and round on the circle
Live by and die
For what
This force
Drives home

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷
Music box ticks out a song

Then stops

Wind it back up
÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷

Just like
The lamb
I came
Blind and mute to the slaughter
The same

The same way

As it goes

It's just the same
There is

No longer hope

Round and round on the circle
We live and die
For what
This force
Drives home

Pouring my
Iron down into the mold
It glows
Across my face
My hands
They quake
And as it sets
I can start to see

My
Face

Round and round on the circle
I watch them go
Living to die
By the hand
Of a force
Bringing them home

And it's not much of
A strech
Ive come to second guess

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷
The music box shatters

Deep inside me something feels chains crawling all along its back.

Iggy & Lou,
my iron angels
I do love you two
I am your sister now
schooled in experience
a Passenger
a Transformer
of dark days
though, Lou
they never tried
to fry my brain
thank god
Iggy, what did you do
when you were bored
locked up
what did you do
to shock them
I want to see your notes
& what they wrote
what havoc you caused
if you tried to jump over the fence
Boys, no matter how they treated you
your music still came out
they couldn't stop you
& they won't stop me
for with you, I am free
donning my leather
strutting my stuff
spitting words
out like charcoal
& grit
through the night's
backside

She is a man,in the blood stream,
gushing within her veins.
He acts her woman, willingly,
and he likes it every bit.
Together they create by chance,
a tumultuous ****** history,
never before seen, perhaps.
This subversion remains a secret,
with a meaning, on which
they never ever bothered.
A mighty cyclone, she transforms
that uproots structures monumental
if she really wants to trample everything.
He is a prankster wind,that love
billowing saplings; ripe rice as well.
Hovering on air, over land and water,
tumbling together, exploring depths,
they create mysterious wind patterns,
that add to the folk lore and myth.