#mercedes
In a place
where no one
but we, between
sun set and rise
a cut of bamboo
is fused and the
coffee cup brimful
to the lip, the
label uplifted to the
next level and
sloshed on a lovely
sharing hours,
slowly we muted
and respiring like
a new combustion
engine of a new
2020 Mercedes Benz
car racing on pure
coal tar high road
Nov 14, 2020
Nov 14, 2020 at 6:42 PM UTC
He's a benz and I'm his Santa Fe but the way he looked at me made me feel like a Ferrari.
Bright hot red shiny metal glistening in the sun, lust colored eyes revving up my engine (spirit).
Sleek, calm, mature.
Mercedes, tell me when you'll be ready for love and I promise to come running at full speed.
Mar 3, 2020
Mar 3, 2020 at 1:53 PM UTC
Fearing the suns final eclipse,
men turn the night to day
but anguish also narrows wits
and scares foresight away
little wisdom stays
to the panicked men
the hunter hunts
the victim flees
and dread does still remain
Chorus:
Three things can´t be trusted
In the fright that walks the night
The oath of men, the fire’s light
And the sounds of hidden life
Little does the darkness care
About the stranger’s dread
Like dancing shadows in the flame
The restless feelings spread
The blades and armors shining bright
and blinds the fighters eye
And in the dark
The shadows waits
To hunt the hunters pride
Chorus:
Three things are deceiving
In the light of lanterns spark
The strenght of blades, the might of men
And a gleaming in the dark
A voice wails from the shadows deep
Out of the towering trees
And like a hunted animal
The fighters boltness flees
The howling sound like hunting horns
Fills heart and bones with fear
And in the dark
The glistening eyes
Are glaring bright and clear
Chorus:
Three things are most perilious
The dread that walks the night
The wicked howl that warns you
And the eyes that shine too bright
The warriors cried and ran away
and turned around no more
And spared no thought in silence
What they were panicked for
And as the soldiers fled away
The monstrous beast draws near
A cat, a dog, a donkey
and a rooster does appear
Chorus:
Three things never change its kind
under the darkness ban
The sounds, the eyes and shadows
That fear any armored man
Feb 21, 2019
Feb 21, 2019 at 10:36 AM UTC
Some types of blood arrest this mouth.
Yes, some types of lips breathe fire and shout.
Some types of women shuck men of their gain, then some women run hurriedly back to their beaches again.
Some people catch anons between their legs. Others swallow vespers BeSpoke by the lust that they crave. Then envelop Gonzo love on the tip of their quill, if only boiling themselves for five minutes to ensure themselves potable.
I live for the taste of rust. I sit in the second-to-last seat on the back-left side of the bus. And I greet her legs with my aching skin, touch my fingertips to my lips to prove that I’m alive to myself.
If her scent was obeyed by royalty. I’m traversing the world if only once more as I’m praying that she’ll see me. I’m praying for our faces to believe in we. And her taste is the bang that is big from the beginning of time, one twist of the fresh zest of a lime, while the years are turned back into the furnace of time. I’m craving faces and loves I once saw. I need to feel the skin tailored for the female gods. I’m certainly loud and catering forth, I turn up the pre, and force the gain and amp up. If only to be noted again, in a bed with my goddess together we’d spend, every moment together in eternity. Immortality conceived of the beasts we achieve. Trampled by the light and tortured by the sound of ourselves. Please won’t you help me to not be forgotten myself? I’m pursing my lips and shaking my hands, I’m jumping off rooftops and eating mouthfuls of sand. Is our hero here or has she she run? Help me find Britni West, my one true love. She’s in California last I had a taste. It’s only everyone else that I lay chaste. With her I’m on top of the world, I’d quaff her spit and champion her skin. There is nothing nor no one that could come between. She’s the only one that is for me, and I’m the only he she’s told me.
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 6:53 AM UTC
It is February
From my balcony
Yesterday I saw
a man in suit and tie
eating his lunch in a Mercedes
some old ladies crossing the street
in colorful hats
Maybe they were from England
A group of Jews with beards
and long coats walked slowly
“Let them mind their business,
while we have *** in the city”
Said she
and we took our clothes off
All this time
amid the noise and mayhem
We made love
culminating in syrupy peace
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 11:40 AM UTC
the sun sizzles
on that red car
wrinkled skin sits and
ages as that motor
howls on
waiting for a go.
a mercedes, maybe
or perhaps, a honda.
either way
this is why I hate Florida
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 6:16 PM UTC