"allures" poems
We know you, and your little dark colors too. A picture book in your purse penned in mustaches on the full faces of your fare. We call you from bed, 8 o' clock in the morning, dog-light you slow wander the Peruvian darkness making jellyfish tentacles with your hands while you feel your way through Salem. We're colder than night and we wake thrice the bits of your day gig. You collapse in a green field of dandelion where thrushes drown you in Brown. We gorge ourselves on mango slivers, pineapple yolks, a half of grapefruit. We know you are close to your end.
On the tops of the cities you call to your lycan friends, the half-sick and muted bray allures them to you, from Bratislava and Mimon, the thoroughfare through the suq. We wait. The foregone untold, the beep beep jug jug swoop sound of the nightingale, in all her dun glory, we wait. Then, as if descending through the moor-lounging silver smoke, the cool stickiness to your fingertips; the fog.
We are there when the blue-less and smoky screen surrounds you, when you shank the auburn Scot hair of the sly fox that stalks, say, a cigarette from your lips. When you take the corners swiftly, gadding the streets. The prize king of vulpicide. You rub its matte fur against your bristly gray beard. And while you lay in your lumps of twelve carat flesh you bleat and you nag. One day you will never come home.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 3:14 PM UTC
*ask your blood
your limbs, your breathing feet
what Poetry is -
a phylogenetic anomaly
in light’s discontinuity
or just…
the strange yearning of hematopoiesis
ask the silence in your lungs
the bursting DNA, reinterpreted
how it allures memory inside your bones
how it treads conventions of sleep
with the weight of a sigh
if you ask me
what Poetry is
I’d say: breath calligraphy
a winged dream of depth
on enchanted retina
the bitter-sweet art of airy harmony
ask your hands
what Poetry is
perhaps they’ll take a moment
to bloom*
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 1:31 PM UTC
On a sheer peak of joy we meet;
Below us hums the abyss;
Death either way allures our feet
If we take one step amiss.
One moment let us drink the blue
Transcendent air together—
Then down where the same old work’s to do
In the same dull daily weather.
We may not wait . . . yet look below!
How part? On this keen ridge
But one may pass. They call you—go!
My life shall be your bridg.
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*How I wish to float upon your breast
Soft and placid as a glass lake, windless
Breathless
But to delve into valleys
Unexplored, keeper of buried treasures
I trek throughout, wandering
Aimless deliverance, unspoken promises
Intricacy of intimate embrace
I weave in my fingers, passion
Spill me, leave kisses like ghosts
Translucent memories
Moist with seduction
Delicious droplets of enticement
Proposing infatuation, falling from your lips
Illustrious little allures
Swim through me
Serpentine twisting contours
Wrap me in flesh, consumption
Stares, to reiterate a longing
Convey this truthfulness
Honeyed words of desire
Think not to deny yourself this moment
Make love to white whispers
Embedded in the mouth of temptation
Take no responsibility
Let movement be freely expressed
Body caressed
Comforting red embers
Of lustful flame
Spin tales of time and tryst
Inhale the sweeter aromas
Entwine with immaculacy
Reciprocate sensuality, a pair
Two
Two with a twist
And many other turns*
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 7:38 PM UTC
Post-azure, cloud splashed sky,
washes with the suns descent,
breaking into melodies of sunset.
Fracturing into a blush,
the richness of the spectrum
makes itself known.
On a tangent of change,
amorphous clouds bleed
amber glow
and bittersweet combinations
of reds and yellows.
Vermillion streaks through,
and a few cloud folk turn titian,
like sumptuous surreal apricots
rotting in the sky,
that seem to augur
encroaching darkness.
Billows on the horizon
leak crimson,
like spilled wine on table cloth,
and pucker out
like blooms of flaming roses.
Fire refracted
coloured cousins of the sun
are dancing all about.
Here is the anthem
of wild transformation.
Here is cause
for quiet celebration.
Here at this fluent juncture.
Here at the closing of day.
The whole of the ocean below,
is the skies tremendous mirror.
It's reflection is variegated,
into variations a thousandfold.
Multitudinous, and ever differentiated,
distortions of above
ride the crests of waves.
Each apex is a new story.
Each new story,
just as soon as it is told,
comes crashing into trough.
Each finale is the ****** of beginning.
The dynamic roar
of the oceans ever-changing topology
is rife with meaning.
Colossal symphonic wonders,
the primordial song,
releasing upon: the uni-
verse continual,
sending the manifest
to move, with the give and strain
of immaculate design.
Here ensconced
between the safety of light
and the mystery of night.
Here at the oceans edge.
Above, shades of catalina-blue, in conversation
with the outer most cosmic-black
dismiss earlier brighter hues.
Tinged by the infinite nature of space,
the jeweled dome darkens.
Overhead, the first stars appear,
sky transparent to beheld blackness.
Luxuriant, pulling horizon, attracts
violet into it's unfolding theatrics.
Bloodied clouds turn purplish, then black,
a darkening rawness allures,
decaying with vivid beauty,
tragedies of a rouged romance
drug down into shadows play,
searingly alive, extraordinarily actual.
And then, the hush of dusk.
Darkness is felled, like silence.
Scintillating stars
strengthen in the nights
surrounding abyss;
giving radiance definition.
Dynamic Beauty
Lives In Transition,
Oppositions
Compliment.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 9:49 PM UTC
I may have loved you too much,
but;
A part of me still loves you to this day
Your sweetness allures me so,
Like honeyed days we’d stare without shame
You were irresistible to my heart and I knew trouble cornered me
I’d shoo away the laughable thoughts,
Aiming to mail you a letter of love
To which you’d open it fresh with a scented kiss
Flower petals would descend from your heart
Your cheeks adopted a sunflower
The stars entertained you that night
You told me you always dreamed of late evenings
Informing me of the curtain of constellations
That you’d like to sleep soundly in
Of course I’d be willing to offer you anything in return of your smile
And the night we escaped, you gasped softly at the surprise
Your simple happiness was all one romantic would need
No matter where we dreamed,
Together we are one
Standing besides one another
Fate draws near, echoing our future
Your bleakness eats me devastatingly
Tomorrow we are still...one being
But overseas, I send you my farewells
So that you are found in perfect health
And that we consume truly divine harmonies
Made only for the sweetened couples
Whose stories fade ever so forlornly in the past
I love you brightly as the sun
You illuminate my pathways
But one kiss erases my existence
Continue to please those around you;
Without me, the world withers
Please remember my love,
And be gentle with it
For it is delicate as the world
My eyes see a star
But yours fail to see within that darkness
The gloom that retreats before you arrive
I am part of that campaign
An honorable being among the troops
Yet your continuous ignorance saddens me so
See me now,
Find me wanderlust in this world
And somewhere, we can swiftly enrapture ourselves
Whether it be in the meadows of glistening rays
Or the places that calmly send the earth into slumber
Wherever we are destined, I’ll always be there for you
Even if tonight’s curtain unsheathes
And you are no longer the image of love,
But rather, a friend I could love with silliness on languid days and somber nights.
Dec 8, 2021
Dec 8, 2021 at 4:10 AM UTC
Of that so sweet imprisonment
My soul, dearest, is fain -- -
Soft arms that woo me to relent
And woo me to detain.
Ah, could they ever hold me there
Gladly were I a prisoner!
Dearest, through interwoven arms
By love made tremulous,
That night allures me where alarms
Nowise may trouble us;
But lseep to dreamier sleep be wed
Where soul with soul lies prisoned.
2.9k
Come to my arms --- is it eve? is it morn?
Is Apollo awake? Is Diana reborn?
Are the streams in full song? Do the woods whisper hush
Is it the nightingale? Is it the thrush?
Is it the smile of the autumn, the blush
Of the spring? Is the world full of peace or alarms?
Come to my arms, Laylah, come to my arms!
Come to my arms, though the hurricane blow.
Thunder and summer, or winter and snow,
It is one to us, one, while our spirits are curled
In the crimson caress: we are fond, we are furled
Like lilies away from the war of the world.
Are there spells beyond ours? Are there alien charms?
Come to my arms, Laylah, come to my arms!
Come to my arms! is it life? is it death?
Is not all immortality born of your breath?
Are not heaven and hell but as handmaids of yours
Who are all that enflames, who are all that allures,
Who are all that destroys, who are all that endures?
I am yours, do I care if it heals me or harms?
Come to my arms, Laylah, come to my arms!
2.6k
1526
His oriental heresies
Exhilarate the Bee,
And filling all the Earth and Air
With gay apostasy
Fatigued at last, a Clover plain
Allures his jaded eye
That lowly Breast where Butterflies
Have felt it meet to die—
2.5k
Two sockets to accommodate a pair of eyes
Due to them this complex device cries
But today, man has taught them to become spies
Dwelling in them is lust for ephemeral joys
Two cartilaginous sound receivers on both sides
They can efficiently detect the screams and sighs
But today, they even ignore the ferocious tides
Engrossed in fabrications, for which today’s man strives
Two arms strong enough to lift and support
Are being used to steal and chop someone’s throat
They refuse to help anyone near or remote
‘Guns and shells’, this is what they promote
A small fleshy speaker which exhibits perfect duality
It allures others through its’ pitch and clarity
Today, it has mastered the skills of acerbity
Forgetting that soft speech is a part of generosity
A complex storehouse of feelings which supplies blood
It is covered with rust although made from mud
Polluted intentions have made it their cozy hut
Very delicate, but today, it is like a walnut
At last, a rotten soul which is wandering aimlessly
It has thirst for contentment and tranquillity
But today, man considers wealth as a source of felicity
I shed tears when I can’t find humanity and piety
Oct 8, 2010
Oct 8, 2010 at 12:17 PM UTC
My mind flutters,
A dainty butterfly...
Disquiet even over a nectarine pie,
Oft times the color allures;
A serrated edge attracts,
The stamen invite;
A pollinic conversation...
Little resting respite!
My mind flutters,
A distracted butterfly...
Does she not know;
She shall starve...
Concentration deprived,
Unable to trace the scent of the elixir;
That shall hold her high!?
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 1:13 AM UTC
**Because the beauty of your ****** is not a sin.**
I saw you in the twilight
Disrobed in the state of nature
And I gaped and gasped in awesome delight
Spellbound and elated in rapture
As I beheld your voluptuous features
As I gazed upon your priceless treasures
From peak of the mountain
I went down to the fountain
In the valley of your mons veneris
And holding on to your alluring pillars
I have been transfixed at the altar of your estuary
The estuary of your conjugal sanctuary.
I saw the falconer trading his falcon
With the bounty hunter for his gun
Lost in their lust for your connubial offerings
Spellbound by the allures of your charms
And I came in the fleeting mist of the fleeing night
To behold you even before the Aurora Borealis
And saw you embracing the heavenly light
As Father Heaven kissed Mother Earth
And you were enchanted in heavenly mirth
Oblivious of my winking mortal eyes
Hypnotized in the ether of celestial bliss.
At the unveiling of the beloved daughter of Eve
Made perfect in the bowels of boundless love.
Let the fire be kindled in my heart
The eternal flame of my spirit
The breath of eternity
The ether of life formed in purity
Born bare and born free
As my enchanted eyes can now see
Freed from the chains of pains
The pains of natal travails
Oh! Woman! Thou art the vessel of motherhood.
And in thy mammary gourds abound our first food
How much every man in bound to thy *****
For from the canal every man is born
Through the third eye of Eve where love flows
From the seed sown the fruit is grown
The sweetest fruit of love is found in the ******
To behold your naked beauty is not a sin.
~~ Orikinla Oosinachi, 2006.
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 2:45 AM UTC
The box poses on my table,
So patient in its guise.
Allures its extent to baffle,
And prove me thus unwise.
To draw me closer it will bait
And lure by fine sweet sounds,
Perplexity my new bed mate,
Mischief that knows no bounds.
I lie in this bed and ponder,
Choice is mine, is it not?
What gifts inside I do wonder!
Temptation's guile my lot.
Gilded and exquisitely wrought,
Intricacy unparalleled,
My prolonged resistance for naught,
My hand thus adroitly compelled!
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 1:21 PM UTC
Knowledge teaches us
How much is our need
Vices inundates
In the swirl of greed.
Increasing knowledge
Lessens the needs
Guides the soul
Towards wisdom and peace
Vices are like
Cancerous germs
Increases the greed
To destroy oneself.
Goal of life
Is to attain love and peace
With greed
We can never reach that place.
Greed is
Like a hunting trap
It allures, attracts
And ruins at last.
Increasing knowledge
Lessens the needs
Guides the a soul
Towards wisdom and peace
=====================
Amitava (4.11.2014) 7-00 am
©ALL RIGHTS RESERVED BY AMITAVA SUR
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 7:14 AM UTC
*Walking through the perfumed garden
All the flowers were vociferous
Spreading their happiness
With the intense aroma that pours out
Potent cocktail carried by the wind
Tugging at my heart
To come back every day for a stroll
Perfumed garden allures me
Their fragrance has so much enthusiasm*
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 3:22 PM UTC
****** distresses
Insatiably
Only you
Can satisfy
The primal
Urges
Which you have
Inflicted
Upon me
Shackled
To the arrest
Of your
Seductive allures
Slave to your
Sensual pleasures
Prisoner to my
Ambitions
To be the
Utmost of your
Sensuous
Pursuits.
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 12:01 PM UTC
The limited palette of the January riverbank,
#nomakeup #nofilter
just the burst capillaries and thread veins
bare
A tired earthy visage,
still allures the blackbird and wren
who never truly got the hang
of saying when
and feast past decency
The idea is to recuperate
and re-emerge fresh and green
but truth seems more like this molasses mud
that hold boots firm
Jan 3, 2022
Jan 3, 2022 at 9:24 AM UTC
Who is the keeper of your gate in the land of ambiguity?
Pour wine into a glass and allow your heart to resonate with the pre-frontal cortex.
Light an incense stick in the name of narcotics while certain death lingers in her sexually provocative attire.
Who are you, really?
Hour-glass sand is like a pharmacological sexuality which allures the vulnerable to the brink of ecstasy.
Do you understand the ritual?
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 2:46 PM UTC
∞∞∞∞☆♥*♥☆∞∞∞∞
Walk
What a walk from north to south
A turn from words to actions
A place of cold friction to heat unforgiving
Walk
What a walk from up to down
A session of want to need
Dried trees to ocean breeze
And the smell of the sea
Walk
What a walk from here to there
Shining a smile from ear to ear
Signing the point on, like a hip to skin bare
A firefly on the wall, in control
Rough while finding its way to the inside of the home
Walk
Walk as the road leads
Walk to concede, then run
Run as it is tracked
Facade that allures like the exposed spine on a weak back
Tell it ok then embrace that place
Walk to your own pace
Alexis J. Meighan
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 11:48 PM UTC
Oh sweet maiden, in sirens song
To the foamy sea swells
A lighthouse foghorn joins along
Dawn colors soft pastels
Reddish, yellow, dawn shining bright
As the peaks of mountains highlight
Reddish yellow-
Reddish yellow-
With colorful hue’s vibrant bright.
On rocks she rests, combing her hair
With a comb made of pearl
Her lovely skins complexion fair
Massive ocean waves hurl
She sings her songs from far offshore
As the breaker waves break the shore
She sings her songs-
She sings her songs-
As waves pitch sounds in metaphors.
With waters deep and waters vast
Her melodies haunting
Thus in enchantment, a spells cast
With allures taunting
Oh sweet maiden, in sirens song
A sailor’s fate, her charms he’ll long
Oh sweet maiden-
Oh sweet maiden-
Loves sweet song, casts spells lifelong.
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 7:20 PM UTC
Kept in front of me is a rough handmade paper
Its furrows are similar to my unsettled life
The thick graphite pencil I hold up to sketch
My anecdotes that has made an impact on me
As soon I start sketching, the graphite smudges
Leaving dark and ugly patches on the paper
And an indelible mark between my fingers
Depicting the dark shadow that has followed me
Everything I hope for, is daubed by overcast setting
When I take up the erasers to wipe off the mishaps
The friction creates a colossal mess on the dreams
I realize that I have distorted the sketch I started
But the deep lines of graphite stare at me sullenly
Such indelible sketches hover in my mind
Not even the best of erasers can wipe them off
I tried in vain, only to be left with abrasions
I have given up on drawing up any dreams
No longer, the handmade paper allures me to sketch
For I have used up all the graphite, drawing, failures
So many failures already etched in my memory
Left with nothing but the memories of defeat
Like the dark smudges of graphite, hovering my mind
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 7:50 AM UTC
Like the sun's transcendental glow-
His positive energy is illuminating
Like the sun is an almost perfect sphere -
His personality, character and qualities are almost flawless
Like the sun is the source of Earth's bio -
His very existence sustains my joyful life
Like the sun being our universe's calm, steady and powerful center -
His presence occupies the core of my thought, word and deed
Like the sun radiates a strong magnetic field -
His embodiment allures me so intensely yet effortlessly
Though the sun's light reaches Earth in 8 minutes -
His light extends to me in an attosecond
Though the Sun contains 99.86% of the mass in the Solar System-
His accommodation in my heart encompasses a full 100%
Though the sun may one day run out of nuclear fuel and burn out
His love for me and my love for Him will remain eternal, everlasting...
***Unfathomably, Spiritually endless...
There can only be one sun in a universe, I know not mine.
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 12:58 PM UTC
.
Wine, enchilada and pickle sauce,
corks and safeties,
just like The Penguin In *******
in Ronnie and Kenny's shed.
The Idiot ******* Son
sits eating the deadly Yellow Snow,
whilst Joe hums Zombie Woof
at the Poodle in his Garage.
Dinah-Moe Humm finally gets off;
in the Dangerous Kitchen,
with the Muffin Man's ***** Love,
and the Illinois Enema Bandit.
The Fine Girl and the Latex Solar Beef
bathed in The Blue Light,
shout 'Pick Me, I'm Clean',
along Inca Roads, to Find Her Finer.
Cosmik Debris exclaims Zoot Allures!
From the fat, floating, maroonish Sofa
because the Bow Tie Daddy
sings Nasal Retentive Calliope Music.
Yo Mama! there's the Disco Boy
who gets in More Trouble Every Day,
so The Torture Never Stops,
with Damp Ankles, Peaches & Regalia.
Sam With The Showing Scalp Flat Top
dances with Camarillo Brillo upstairs,
catching Stink-Foot once again,
like In France from the Valley Girl.
And so the Watermelon In Easter Hay
rides off with the Duke Of Prunes
to the Carolina ******** Ecstasy,
visiting Billy The Mountain, and Montana.
© Pagan Paul (2016/2017)
Frank Zappa
(21st December 1940 - 4th December 1993).
Musician, Diplomat and Lyricist.
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 4:43 PM UTC
It is a common observation
That things are either bound or free
And this gives birth to misconceptions
On nature’s own duality
Just like a boulder in seclusion
An object tied is never loose
It has potential in profusion
Yet nothing stored is ever used
In contrast, like a cuckoo bird
An object loose is free to roam
With nothing owned, and all things shared
Yet nowhere to be called a home
But how the stable knows of freedom?
And of the joys of taking flight?
For in the well, where he is hidden
The skies seem dark in broad daylight
And how the liberated figures
To perch and quench on rushing spume?
Since from the heavens, even rivers
Are thinner than a feather’s plume
The trick is repetition thousands
And millions, and some billions more
Each item through the options browse and
Decides to settle, or to soar
Then from this binary decision
The choice is neither ridge nor flock
And one can say, with some conviction
All compromise the bird and rock
Take heart, and listen to this lesson
In life you often have to choose
‘tween earthly form and spirit essence
You gain, but on the same time lose
A man is bound by his possessions
A man with none, will starve for sure
To thrive, one must apply discretion
And choose which path to him allures
Lo, such is life, optimization
Of energy and entropy
You minimize their combination
In hope that this will set you free
Jul 29, 2019
Jul 29, 2019 at 9:05 AM UTC