Fingers continue to whisper.
Fingers linger longer
and these strokes serve as
exercise to make them stronger.  

Practice makes perfect and when
practicing on a perfect canvas leads to
writing beautiful verses in cursive.

Before we fall asleep she kisses every
finger as a beautiful gesture to assure
that, these same fingers reproduce the
familiar and extravagant pleasure.

Fingers speak in a language I can't
comprehend, but only her body can
understand and if these same fingers
that squeeze this pencil tip are guilty of
letting her relish moans and sighs
gasping for air, then accept my
apologies for getting the public involved
in my affairs.

Fingers continue to whisper as they
speak softly to the goosebumps present
on her body. Fingers continue to
whisper, and without my muse these
urges to write I keep I fighting. Fingers
continue to whisper telling me to keep
writing.

Claw beneath your ribs
Hold down wild you
Just for a little while
Feel the anguished flutter
Begging these gruff hands . . .


1.
Fear takes commotive hold
Makes wooden legs
Delayed dance…..so delayed
Causing silent attendance of synchrony

No use stepping out for flight just yet, if alone
Will meantime practise wing-span
                           iron out brittle energy
                           attempt to fortify links
                           ..

2.
Careless snubs to fragile sapling
Did *absolutely nothing
To the course set out
Only hypocrites squander even half-truths
and wallow in obsequious words
rendering paralysis and decay

I will continue to claw beneath your ribs
Covert trove awaits us
In the tormented form of
Crashing waves on a broken coast
Hacked to near-distraction by potent searching


3.
Loss is not wasted
unseen by its absence:
evocative presence felt …with penniless eyes

I challenge you to visualise our melting:
                 perched on fate’s right shoulder
                 re-sent to this basic arena as buoyant token
                 summoned by that primordial, blue light
                 ..



the sun may well baulk and melt
at the ruddy sight of
such intense clawing beneath your ribs
(like your customary digging into my bristling blades)

To find my foetal place
within the calling drumbeats
of imperative you . . .




S T, sunsday . . . 21 July 2013

Dear you,

I miss you and as I am sitting here typing away my feelings like letting water flow I realize what I should have done. I should I have wrapped my arms around you though you would have protested and told you that things were going to be okay even if I didnt know what I was saying.
I should have never placed barriers between us to protect you because you were trying to climb over, well it seemed as if you were. All these should haves cloud my mind and whenever I think it over I begin to have the feeling of sadness as it grows. Each Should have feeds it and it grows taller and sadder.
I should have kissed you, ignoring the consequences that would be sure to follow.
I should have held your hand longer and Should have spoken to you more.
I shouldnt have lied and said that the candy was just for friends
I should have never say okay because it wasnt okay that I was being Second Choice.
I should have stood my ground and told you that I really like you and that me being some hand me down, some black market brand of clothing wouldnt do.
God, I miss you.
And the ways about you.
Your happiness when it leaked out.
Your smile when it broke through
Even you anger and your stupidity.
I miss all of that.
You were the best thing that happened to me but not because we were ever together because we never were but because everything I did was proof that I cared about you.
Now I am left with fragments of hopes and dreams always blurred with disire.
Anthony Taylor Triplett, A danger to say your name,
I still want you
I should give up I should stop with this wanting and this longing
Because It will never be. But I have never been one to look on the datk side of things.
I cling on to the notion that we will be togehther like a piece of lint refusing to let go of cloth.

I will close with this.

XOXO

Prom night
Hoping for limelight
No fight towards the
Alcohol fueled lust
We just want what's just
To break off some rust
To end the night wrapped in her/his arms
Waking up to a cheesy love story
But nothing gory no glory
Just the generic songs
Playing through the generic throng
Of people looking for more
Maybe the unknown
Possibly the gold throne
But in the end
Teenagers aren't hard to get
So we danced young
Like we'd live forever
And at the end of the night
We made our own stories

It rained today
The sky was blue
The sun was out
And it was sickly humid
I mean ****,
It was raining sideways
Soap opera tears coming from seemingly nowhere
It just makes you think
Maybe god didn't want me to go outside and get anything done today
If I am made in god's image
Maybe he's as lazy as me