"aphrodisiacs" poems
Loving you is easy,
because you are belovedly lovable.
You have love handles,
and I never fear falling out
of love with you.
You have loving arms
that you lovingly embrace with.
You are double the lovable
of any other lover.
Many can claim
that love is hard,
but while life is hard,
and we have hit our rough roads
while traveling together,
it has always been easy loving you.
Anyone who doesn't love you
needs a copy of love for dummies...
Because only a dummy would not be able to see,
just how lovable you are.
I could compare you to a nursery full of newborns,
crossed with a gaggle of puppies and kittens,
a playlist of my favorite songs,
a cocktail of aphrodisiacs,
mixed with every memory
of every night spent with good friends,
the laughter of children,
and the Beatles in their prime,
and it wouldn't come close to describing,
just how belovedly lovable you are.
Sep 16, 2012
Sep 16, 2012 at 10:29 AM UTC
was an aperitif to an aphorism,
an apothecary of aphrodisiacs,
an apiary of my ever-buzzing thoughts.
She slipped streamline as maraschinos
into a Manhattan, that strike of sugar
staining the most bitter days a color no chemical dispels.
She was an enigmatic row of beakers
shelved in an ancient pharmacy
at the base of the Janiculum.
Her shape was incense wisps, her
touch a song sung in 1940s noir,
her locking gaze acrophobia itself.
Alliteration ran thick through her blood,
she painted like Debussy composed.
No single organism in the universe could’ve imposed
anything on her – well, maybe.
Maybe she’s just a girl, the way that I’m a boy –
no air of denigration here.
She was intricate, but altogether simple. Empathetic-yet-
tangible, her character was incredible.
It was not the beauty of her face, the body
that held her mind and laughter,
not the dazed sting in my hand as it cupped
in hers – it was her autotelic way and her hope.
And now her imaginings hang,
framed in my house; little landscapes of the heart she left;
retreats that prove I’ve loved and been loved.
Jul 4, 2012
Jul 4, 2012 at 7:59 AM UTC
Last night I watched in silence
At the end of the road in forest deep
I hid amongst the trees watching in awe
As gypsies dance while others sleep
Under the violet hue of evening sky
Haloed by evening's golden moon
I watched gypsies dance and sing
As flames from bonfires leaped high in the air
Dark haired women in shawls and beads
Happily dancing and twirling without care
Casting their spells of magic and enchantment
Performing their honeyed seductions
Blended with aphrodisiacs of scent and sound
Gypsy men with kerchiefs around their necks
Hoops of silver adorning their ears, singing joyful songs
Children laughing, dogs barking
As if they’re singing right along
Oh, I so wanted to join them as I stood watching in awe
Envious was I of their freedom and joy
Caravans painted in bright images and colors
Tambourines jingling as velvet shadows danced in the night
Skirts swirling, gold and silver bangles on their arms
Dancing 'round the bonfire's fiery light
Accordions singing, with happy notes from a fiddler's bow
As they sang and danced barefoot under evening moon
In the coming dawn once again...
It will be time for them to pack and move on
With a last meal served...
The caravans are readied to make another journey long
"Gather yourself up gypsy girls
Wonderful as it may seem…
A gypsies’ life is never their own
Time to move on
Time to find another home
You must have gypsy blood
In order to survive"
As their wagons move along dusty trails
They'll be looking for a place to camp
A place to call home... at least for awhile
A place to hang their colored paper lamps
Until...
Suddenly- a cry rings out
"Stop the wagons, ring the bells
We've found the perfect place
The perfect place for magic spells
Tomorrow brings a brand new day!
Let's feast, dance and make merry
Come on let's get things underway"
And so...
The journey goes on
And never ends!
"Gather yourself up gypsy girls
Wonderful as it may seem…
A gypsies’ life is never their own
Time to move on, time to leave
Time to find another home
You must have gypsy blood
In order to survive"
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 6:17 PM UTC
your lips are the cesspool of sin
invading my thoughts,
filling my brain with the images
of them swollen, red, bruised,
or coated in saliva
and caught between your teeth,
or even forming my name
in a whisper or a moan.
you are the devil's bartender,
mixing a molotov cocktail
of aphrodisiacs and raging hormones.
nothing will cure this thirst.
you would have me beg.
there is a spark of sin
inside this sinner.
there is a pool of gasoline
i am drowning in
and you have the box of matches.
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 5:28 PM UTC
Oh, planet of the azure,
Cypriot sands,
Nordic beauty,
Amazonian lands,
Nile river plains,
It’s plain to see that our world
is a paradise for the
paradisiacs and the aphrodisiacs,
The business suited men,
The wedding dressed women,
The children of the soil.
But also plain to see are the
oil-stricken sands,
Viking battlegrounds,
Deforested lands,
Dry river plains.
Unknowns and ****** deviants,
Power hungry animals,
Divorce cases to be,
Already dead.
Oh, land of the azure,
Strike up a match and burn us all down,
Won’t you?
Oh, paradise world,
A giant floating blue pearl,
Cut us all down and burn our ashes?
Let us make amends,
Blue and green marble,
For we have doubted your sands,
Lands, and beauty,
We have doubted them whilst we have stood upon them.
For we are too tall to see what heaven lies beneath our feet,
And we look to the skies for heaven whilst we are among angels.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 6:58 PM UTC
Aphrodite's recipe for idyllic relations
contains:
cranberries and blackberries
Chia Goji
one whole Vanilla bean
three quarters cup of Macadamias
of course, coconut milk
maple syrup and oats
pumpkin seeds
nutmeg
that's why I
cant make it.
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 8:17 PM UTC
you are a collection of my favourite senses.
you are the smell of smoke
of a fire that’s just burnt out
the drifting
curling grey
the ash
glowing still
you are the too-bright sun in my eyes
blinding
disorienting
and yet still beautiful and necessary
the pagan in me
worshipping your descent to earth
like an angel
who simply wanted to greet me
you are the feel of a fur coat around my neck
soft and warm
comforting, like a mother’s touch
but also a thrill, unsettling
the feeling of death kissing my throat
you have the taste of aphrodisiacs
chocolate, wine and
avocado
the juices of our chemistry
dripping from the sides
of my mouth
your smile wide
at the open euphemism
you are a collection of my favourite senses
and when i kiss you i am
senseless
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 10:41 AM UTC
There is always a finger flirting with the trigger
A word
A phrase
A visual aid
All aphrodisiacs to the finger
Which induce the ******
Of a pulled trigger
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
Can you taste them?
Those slow melting morsels of sugar,
just lingering on the corners of your mouth...
You let them drip from your spoon,
let them roll off your tongue
and dress your intentions.
As they try and undress me...
Everything's inviting,
the presentation, the flavor, the texture...
Like Bartlett pears:
"Granules of sugary sand, made to melt and fill every taste bud."
The warmth of your phrasing,
reassuring with their momentary high
and their lingering desire for more...
Heavy with mood,
rich with aphrodisiacs'
and smooth like that cocky-ass grin...
These words are like ants,
attracted to the smell of decadence...
Sweet rotting decadence...
Watch them decay,
as the truth beneath...
Reveals the lack of sustenance.
Live on these words?
On these hollow, sugar-coated statements,
and be satisfied?
**** you.*
I need more than that.
You left me nauseous,
and filled with this stain...
Keep rolling those lines,
make them smooth and inviting,
make them enticing,
make them all yours....
*Never again,
will I indulge you.*
I need a tall drink of water,
the wind wiping through my hair,
and this pavement,
To guide my sullied feet,
as I "beat on against the current..."
of my self-indulgent past.
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 12:53 PM UTC
my mother was a **********
(the greatest honor
on the tree)
--
i always wondered why
"after shooting the sheriff"
he
DIDN'T
"shoot the deputy down"
--
fig-ments
and
fact-ments
a dollar a day laborer
poisoned rain
--
at the
"end of the day"
the day ends
busted children remain
in jail
eating popcorn
i learned that
from teevee
Oct 26, 2010
Oct 26, 2010 at 10:28 AM UTC
Shaman's see visions of heinous onslaught,
No pormonteaus of buried boon!!!
Priests and rabbis lick thine clothe,
Ebbing closer to emptied rooms!!!
Young girls and boys burlesque in their costumes,
Mother and father do buck,
Living in hell in thine own living room,
Fast lives, cars and trucks!
Aphrodisiacs they put in their vein,
Tears dry the carpets,
Entertainers dance in thy rain,
Moribund, still a lonesome carcass!!!
Covetednous, they've made as their gods,
Fast foods, no life,
Intimance gone!!!!
A band to wear with crested jewels,
Yet what art they with no meaning?
Say thy affiance all that thou wilt,
Still stuck in the land of the dreaming!!!!
Mutagens and fabricators to selves,
Clouds come with no pour down,
The poor line the street for the corner spells,
Doeth you giveth them love?
Or throw them in cells?
Devotee to Christ,
Hath thou given advice?
Yet still taketh not thy own?
Your bloods spilt to the mass of drules,
Still dont want to be alone!!!
Trammels your in,
In trammels you'll sin,
In trammels you will die or awake once again!!!!
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 4:50 PM UTC
"practice makes perfect "
does not apply to swimming in quicksand
---
---
the phrase "toughened by adversity"
shouldn't lead you to go get AIDS to prove yourself
-----
-----
"have faith"
doesn't mean you should call "love" your attraction to a boy who mistreats you constantly
-----
-----
"calling upon your inner self"
isn't simply stringing a few oxymorons together within a few rhymes in an obscure manner.....no matter how many people praise you for your "deep wisdom"
----
----
"live and let live"
is so easily abused it really needs no comment
------
------
"it takes one to know one"
is only true for true human beings
-----
-----
"have a nice day"
is only true on a nice day
Aug 13, 2010
Aug 13, 2010 at 2:47 PM UTC
i climbed mount olympus
i said
"hi dad!"
--
i sailed with jason on the argo
ya shoulda been there!
--
i sat naked on a bench in central park
a beautiful young woman comes up and............
.......
----
----
and......
........we rode with chiron across the river styx
right into hades
all of our friends were
waiting there for us
--
she sat naked on a bench in central park
the crowds gathered
strewing flowers!
--
abandoned children pretending to be
betrayed lovers betrayed by love
really really break the HEART
--
a country that has ever lynched people
because of skin color
isnt free
--
a country that has ever lynched people
because of skin color
will end up with people afraid to
question their leaders
--
a country that has ever lynched people
because of skin color
will probably allow their leaders
to foment a terrosist attack upon them
and blame someone else
Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 1:38 PM UTC
1.20.
I wrote my
own artist
agreement
Blending the
four primal
colours of war
I’m rewriting
the treaties
Remixes of
aphrodisiacs
My remedies
for life keep
giving me
success
Call me Aphrodite chain smoking
cigarettes
The Lone Orchid of frost bitten
sunsets
I’m the only
one in
one of
a kind
A one hit
wonder that
echos forever
with time
Mesmerizing
Gods and
consolations
I am the
Divine
inspiration
This weak
ecosystem has
made me
vicious again
I wanna see
people get
a bit more
independent
Remove their
denial
See the truth
in the ways
of survival
This is next
level chest
and I’m always
six steps
ahead
When I’m behind
that’s when I
attack at
my best
My bullet proof
**** rate
I’ll take you
out by the neck
Call me up
Say what?
I’ll always be
that crazy
****
saying whatever
it is I want
Ring.Ring.
My telephone
never stops
And I’m never
picking it up
Later I might
hit you
back up
Right now
I’m busy
getting
unplugged
Jun 11, 2019
Jun 11, 2019 at 4:55 PM UTC
The day the starfish were high,
we were swimming towards the sun
and nirvana was only a stroke away.
We carried stories in our stomaches
and let them bubble up from our throats
until we could see them wrap around
the waists of street venders.
The merry-go-round music tangled in my hair
but I never wanted to shake it out.
Your breath was in my lungs
when the citrus-sucking sunshine
made your heart skip a beat.
Our feet burned black on the board walk
when we walked too far,
looking for where the ocean herself was born.
When the mermaids called our names,
we waded through tide pools,
let seaweed grow around our ankles
and promised never to uproot them.
And finally the seagulls brought us
aphrodisiacs from the Gods
so we climbed the lightning bolts
and became a new constellation.
Jun 30, 2011
Jun 30, 2011 at 3:36 PM UTC
beauty (of a sort)
is skin deep
ugliness is of the HEART
--
once 2 people truly make love
it is absolutely impossible for them to stop
--
i played in a basketball game
where i made 100 baskets on 100 shots
all of them 3-pointers
we lost in overtime
so you probably didnt hear about it
it wasnt as much fun as sailing
with jason
on the argo
--
not everyone can be a great poet
(nor want to)
but everybody can
be great
Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 1:45 PM UTC
"here" is real bad
let's go "there"
--
there is a lotta ****** 'round here
a lotta faux enemies
you aint no hero
soldier boy!
--
a....."democracy?"
a....."free press?"
GET OUTTA HERE WILLYA?
--
people who want love
without lovin
HATE
--
if yer s--t dont stink
you do
--
SANITIZED INSANITY
is the special domain
of politicians
whose s--t dont stink
--
why do all american movies stink?
because people accept becomin s--t
--
"every moment"....... is a TRUE MOVIE
watch them
ya dont need popcorn
--
each moment's TRUE MOVIE
contains the
"coming attractions"
for a 100 movies
aint it fun to anticipate!
--
every TRUE ANTICIPATION
is a mythological being
smiling
from mount olympus
Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 1:27 PM UTC
Exercise like Billy Blanks
Then punch it like Anthony Joshua
Meander like Lionel Messi
Drive it like Chrisriano Ronaldo
Play around like Neymar da Silver Santos
Swim a d swim like Michael Phelps
Whatever you do?
Never loose your mojo like Zlatan Ibrahimovic
Eyes on the ball like Serena Williams
Hit it hard like Rafael Nadal
Or do you prefer Tiger woods?
Until you hear her sing like Beyonce Giselle Knowles
Twerk like Cardi B
Don't stop cruising like Michael Shumacher
Except you are in a hurry to meet your ancestors
No need for aphrodisiacs
When you have natural smoothies
Above is how to keep her
Repeat these lines over again
And she'll love you forever
Feb 21, 2020
Feb 21, 2020 at 4:06 PM UTC
Everything on this gelid morning speaks only dead languages.
Change your mind. Consider it a beguilingly blank canvas.
Slather it with the random pigments of your imagination.
Go for a stroll and practice random acts of sadistic charity.
Inhale the exquisite frondescence of naked branches.
Focus your neurons on everything you have forgotten.
********** incessantly to Mozart's Requiem. Honor his memory.
Unleash your nukes. Annihilate Canada. Destroy winter for good.
Make your lover a garland of cassowary feathers. Impress her.
Concentrate on growing horrifically profuse ***** hair.
Study the nonexistent texts of forgotten Uzbecki ascetics.
Raise fearsome armies of rabid Chinese lawn gnomes. Attack.
Try to knit String Theory while contemplating theoretical macramé.
Drink cider vinegar to defuse the carcinogenic dangers of politics.
Attempt to complete a peace treaty with gravity. Concede nothing.
Build a launch pad. Hurl rusting Ramblers into low earth orbit.
Collect ingredients. Home brew ****** absinthe and aphrodisiacs.
Test drive a luxury submarine in your neighbor's swimming pool.
Smash the endless contemporary Conga Line of Dumb. Think about it.
Surrender to uncommon sense for a change. Avoid the ordinary.
Give peace a chance. Endless war has left it lonely and depressed.
Admit that everyone is well and truly ****** Relax. Breathe.
Proclaim the advent of the poetry of the apocalypse,
but take care not to write any of it down yet. Go slowly.
Tomorrow is another day to be filled. Keep some options open.
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 9:45 AM UTC
I'm the reclusive wreck-loose
Who's about to let loose
And instigate and substantiate the fact that society's narrow mindedness is there for us to instantiate that we ourselves have to promote understanding and antiquate hate
Accidents happened and mistakes were made
They take a sardonic look at the schematics of a systematic syncopated symmetry
They say we dare not deviate from the Fibonacci Sequence
But to matriculate
And be quick on the uptake
Then add ourselves to the division of labour
I make empirical claims to disarm ephemeral things
Fashion
Technology
Music
Life as a whole
But then I'm the *******
They salt the songbird's tail
Clipping the properties of personality
"Bide your time so you don't do anything foolish and bite your tongue so you don't say anything you may regret"
But this is this part of the cocoon effect
Waiting to see all the failed racists
After this metaphysical metamorphosis
So modern
So contemporary
It's classic
Soon to be ancient
The adages and aesthetic aphrodisiacs
'Who do you want to be when you grow up?"
"What do you want to be when you grow up"
"I want to be civilization as you know it..or as you like it"
Peradam- Something that shows itself to those who truly seek it.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 12:33 AM UTC
Two pills later with droopy eyes,
Cinnamon aphrodisiacs,
Candles that smell like your skin when you bury your nails in my thighs and seek some greater vengeance,
Sun-kissed skin and the muscles of a lover (and a fighter,
because what is love without fighting).
Heaven in copper pools,
except I've never believed in God.
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 10:02 PM UTC
lust is a beautiful thing to lose
............
"falling in love" is two people being lonely together
.............
if you feel totally attracted to another peraon........run for your life!
...........
"to embrace passionately"----------seems something we force upon eachother
................
with "jesus" on his lips
but her P---Y on his mind
yeah.....he was
a **** all right!
...........
LOVE SONG FOR MORBID LOVERS
-------------
i threw her face thru the plate glass window
because i love her!
because i love!
she wanted to leave me
now she's dead!
(THIS IS A CONDEMNATION, NOT AN ENDORSEMENT)
................
i'm sad .....so SAD!!
MY LOVER DONE LEFT ME!
actually
it aint so...
.........................bad
Jul 24, 2010
Jul 24, 2010 at 1:55 PM UTC
Her accent, an aphrodisiac brings that torment back of long ago,
I know rage in every hormone when I hear her on the telephone and when she speaks it feels as if her body's leaking words that only she knows I've been seeking.
A latitude, degree or two and she always knows just what to do.
I'm pinned on strings and don't understand whose hands go where and what and why
**** or cure and curse the poor she knows exactly who I am.
Crack me open, look inside, here is where I figure out the places I can hide.
She finds me, attacks me with her aphrodisiacs and I am lost to pheromones and her voice when I'm the telephone.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 7:42 AM UTC
*I have seen the sun and moon
Shining with majesty in full grace
I have seen the starlit night
But never seen your face
I have heard sweet orchestras
Playing sweet music to rejoice
The purest choirs of perfect sound
But never heard your voice
My fingertips have touched finest silks
And velvets soft textures too
The finest objects in the land
But never once touched you
I have kissed the breaking of the dawn
And twilights magic rise
The crystal shining dew of morn
But never kissed your eyes
In my dreams I have done wanton things
Drank aphrodisiacs from a witches brew
Awoken in a fiery glow
But never once with you.*
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 2:31 PM UTC
You were sitting there,
Golden like a goddess,
With your eyes wagging lazily
Between the clutter and clatter of
Four jagged edges that made up
One sticky bartop.
The piano bounced in heavy thumps and steps
Like six inch heels
On a graceless girl
Who is dragged through the streets
Only by the sweet bait
Of a lover's giggle
To a hotel room that feels
A lot like home.
Your hands and face and eyes
Are pink as they pick through the pile,
Slotting in and out of Coach and Lucky
For a little black dress.
The thinning hallway smells like burnt cigarettes
And used condoms.
Arms folded like laundry,
Hair falling like linen,
I can smell the Coco and pushed out ahs
Fogging up my sight, dizzying and sultry,
As you dive beneath what feels like a thousand white sheets.
Sticky, wire-lashes sink
Under mountain-high, colored-cotton threads.
Your eyes are the glow of a casino.
You look right at me,
And I've won the lottery.
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 5:25 PM UTC