She, "City' cafe cat
But we would do
anything
for a cup of coffee right?
Where not the punctual
calendar girls day or night
The territories

(My Heaven's) steep spoon swirls
How it became the show
Guys and Dolls
Coffee of diaries souls
How a fortune of words
can burn a cup
One sip out of you just ****
At least my flavor trip
I did a lot of long walking
Sipping below his sea level
Hialeah slim blend
The firelight is
glowing
 Beloved by brown warm eyes firefly
This one is the long
sip to meet him bewitched

The Spanish fly
always on his cup trim
More Sambuca  Italian coffee
but why is this so long_
mouth stretching
Another long wait
To get the creamy shining
Knight
My light long
way home
Queen bee cream and
sugar delight, not honey
cleverly cupped
international trip money

The charming Knight
Over the coffee feeling
  camelback
She brews her
fulfillment
he massages her skin
On the fortune road
coffee beans "Parliament"
One long sip enjoyment
Brown leaf so Autummy
That long trip something
is falling
Good body flavor his calling
She neighed into
his love fire dim text
The desire long
extension
all wired

I just want — to — hold you — Egyptian

King with her cherries bing
I never heard of that coffee?
Got like jewels shall bling

One big fortune her vocal chord sing
we work harder to be more
golden winning goes to ___

The winner holding beans
Eyes of fortune Emmy fascination
(Sweet Carolina) honey so much more
blossom into her coffee such luster
bean amazingly guilty hey buster
Feeling so fortunate
how he reads into her expression

The Lord is my shepherd is coming
but hesitancy in her response
Then the next kiss would be with
her coffee embrace could he afford her
Also, her Sophia seduction like
styled camped
Safari how coffee became
the love cure for illnesses
how it healed hearts and asthma

(Her Vows) desireable boiled bows
Buganda Kingdom
I love you in the morning shore

What an obsession fortune beds
of Coffee, fingertips trailed to him
because he couldn't let her go
completely loving coffee and she

He cupped her in his
broad shoulders so he
Let’s be creative and
think of fortune names

Fortune:

Richest self-made millionaires
the rim of my coffee cup

I see a fortune flowing one long
trip faces glowing

Howard Schultz Forbes fortunes from scratch
I guess he saw his beans clearly no eye to patch
So the name like "Starbucks"
Knocking on heavily cup the
woodpecker chucks trip of coffee perks
That billionaire
secrets
is Facebook
Mark Zuckerberg
entrepreneur what a face
nothing more just faces
Will I get an idea the way they do?

Let’s open the (Gate Bill)
micro-soft computer,
French roast bold what was
really told
Hungary England how he
survived the **** Budapest
now he trying to save
other refuges with 500 million

Like her tiny cup of Turkish
heavy sediment Istanbul
Oceans storms her Grecian coffee
Also, her mind was dazzled but rambled
by the intruder
Leaving her all different coffee flavors
Like a fortune of familiar words
One knowing about coffee?
The “Spicy Taco” I felt I was in a
spiritual environment
of the Mecca in the holy city
Stephen when he went to her place
he would try so hard to protect her

Seeing the fortune coming inside the
amber water fountain
She knew his (Grecian Island)
flavors so well
with cardamon meet lovely (Cinnamon)
The coffee so sinfully the game
backgammon and chess

How love came in many Cafes parades
of the New Orlean Carnival
the Turkish armies "Parisian ****"
women and Men
Robes Pierre French revolution
What an evolution world cafes
Long ago far away 1600 Pope Clement
V111 pleasure full cup of Turkish coffee
very popular business thinkers

One golden ticket most expensive coffee
(Starbucks) the trip of a lifetime
(Cafe Nero)
Please bow to (Grace Kelly) coffee
Princess of Morocco how people
are looking more exotic back
in fortunes bed and ***
One long lie what to be said
Doing the Egyptian coffee dance
Exotic love Islands and France
How she Sophia waited for him in
bed nakedly the "Egyptian silky"
love sheets pour the crystal eyes
milky
((Fifty flavor))
shades of coffee her
eyes opened he
saved her with her
special blend
The depth of loving his hands
melted inside of her coffee
He was her love intruder
sending
her all his coffee flavors
For an instant, their eyes
met like the grains
of heat, she was drowning
in his honey brown depths.

There, on the Camels nose, kneels the Praying Monk
Surpassing time and space, he prays endlessly for all mankind.

As I climb the Camelback, I make my way to his feet...on my knees
Guardians on my left and my right remind me..."He knows your here"

I take a deep breath and ask a question of him,
He looks deep into my soul and I feel his hand of stone upon my head.

He tells me "Worry does not empty tomorrow of it's sorrow"
Looking up at him, I see a loving smile for all humanity.

And It's then and there I realize, he'll be right here till the end of time.

baby,
i haven't been getting
enough sleep lately.

you've been crossing
my mind like an animal
lurking through
the Nile,
trying to make it's way back home.

i don't know where you're going,
but i'd put on a show to
keep you in my arms.

oh i know it's hard to face
a lion.
it's hard to face a jungle cat.
but when you look like that,
you're almost taking over me.
get on me.
camelback.

I' ve cut my way through life on camelback,
Halting only punctually by the track;

Yes, “punctually” indeed, to sleep and feed
On what was placed with care on my steed:

Sun-dried Thoughts & Language for me; the fruit,
For those I met on the opposite route.

© Lazhar Bouazzi, Carthage, TUN, July 1, 2016

"******* old man"
He told them to turn the **** noise down
stopped at the Hugenot and Robious light
they were 16 with cigarettes, a bowl named Willem Dafoe, and an old VW hippy van
Too drunk and throwing up in Mom's best frying pan
pain pills because they all saw an orthodontist
a camelback full of two types of whiskey boiling in the van at noon
the two headed beast spewing into one toilet
shrooms
acid
DMT
all chemically hard to pronounce
they saw the face of God as she mourned her own death
sweet lovely death
bittersweet like chasing bourbon with coke
lost in the maelstrom of growing responsibilities
amber
then green
they tore down Robious laughing
and singing punk music at the top of their lungs

Let me
rephrase this
Letting go ask
my (Big Sis)
Tis the Season
All his letting go
I am confusing myself
My shelf still but stubborn
Born to know the
death Urn
Its been a long time
Thinking how the
world turns

I am not the one to be
letting go
Letting go of
your maid
Letting go of
your
Guilt-free Gardner
But how can
people ever leave
their Mother

I cannot get you
out of my mind
Pineapple upside down
Bent out of shape upside cake
And you know my downside
Always laying on
my left side
Like the right fashion flash
H & M
Of him Hmm_?
I believe
in miracles
The learning process- Go principles
Like the Pinnacle
What a disciple

But I am not your
Raggedy Annie
Oakley
Like your ready
to choke me
I remember you lived in a slum
I'm' the better "Bazooka Chewing"
Gum hum yum
All Graffiti
*******  painter the
whole lump
sum

The Egyptian
Queen Nefertiti
The Sattelite Taurus
Bull Ram
The Mad-men but
the ladies big slam
The first plan
didn't work

Always Plan B
So Brutal darling
Please believe me
When I tell you
I love you
Website Prim and proper
portal
Knowing your place and
All the trademarks
Central Park or
Rockefeller
The Center of attention
The Goodfella detention
Over ice the Skaker
Her beauty marks
The true kiss comeback
bump-**** note
The camelback vote
Presidential Trump
One-day- creation
Two day-letting go
exhaustion

Such maturity
to realize my mission
I didn't have to
overwork
my mind
How General
things can be
Managerial so cordial
Or the materialistic me?
If I sang out all your affairs
Like the Pedigree
Shop until I drop you
Like Gum-drop
HBO I'm the Boho
Mr. Spencer shop
Mess
College drop-out
What am I chop liver
Letting go I don't really no?
What is on the next agenda
to Deliver not Pizza

I crossed life
On camelback,
Halting punctually
By the track
To sleep, forget,
And feed
On what was placed
On my steed:
Sun-dried language
For me
And the fruit,
For those
I crossed
On my route.

(c) LazharBouazzi

Moan.
      Y a w n.
Purr.

How I adore our meanderings.
Mornings of misfit nomads
waking to the sturdy fur of you,
     pecks, abs, inner thigh
unclad
body heat...

The world outside feels absent,
your hardness
your breath
presently
itching against yesterday's 5-o'clock
     shadow...

We breakfast on such sensations
     satin thousand threads
sifting in grips of sheets
          creating
    silken dunes of flesh creamy hues
soft mounds from our twist
                tied
tethered limbs
then opening passages with kisses
     and humid licks
our lips:
camelback & cobra songs
to Sahara

           Heatwave

where we worship obelisks
until slumber
has rendered us
              stardust and sphinx
mused and fused - our flesh again
in hymns
     this Sunday morning...

Less stealth of night but copious
is touch
         slithering undulations
         of parched needs
for us to swim in the hunger of its seas

Since sensing sensual stiffness
     your shifting
            your shaft
my blood collects
    to tighten what is mine within

When this grabs hold of us
like the blinding noon
we forgive
           that it is Sunday
mourn that I thirst for you.


Such thickets of urges
   juicy sweet confection / completion's
masculine deprevation
         half grin half flurry,
                     No worry
displacing thoughts of infection
secure in our relations...

Stretching with both my hands
behind me
        gripping with claws of the passionate
buttocks raised (waiting for rain)
as if to be seen & named
      by the gods' - creative breath and shame
           I yearn for your embrace
Heaven forgive me
for the heaven he gives me...

Affirmed
as though we were the firmaments
      sky without permission (or air rights)
to fly
comely
and in our rhythmic trance

we become Spartans
(with our war cry)
         Driven
                 Breathing
One defeat
          Shriven as we're falling
One choice to leap.

                          Exhale Olympus
Fallen pillars' hush.

Good morning, Love
   a taste of how Nirvana feels

constellations and the heavenly
wheel.

Stretching.
Eyes open to take in my world.
         Stretching

Behind
Reaching for you

if just briefly knowing the whole truth...

O
Moan.
      Y a w n.
Purr.

How I adore our meanderings.
Mornings of misfit nomads
waking to the sturdy fur of you,
     pecks, abs, inner thigh
unclad
body heat...

The world outside feels absent,
your hardness
your breath
presently
itching against yesterday's 5-o'clock
     shadow...

We breakfast on such sensations
     satin thousand threads
sifting in grips of sheets
          creating
    silken dunes of flesh creamy hues
soft mounds from our twist
                tied
tethered limbs
then opening passages with kisses
     and humid licks
our lips:
camelback & cobra songs
to Sahara

           Heatwave

where we worship obelisks
until slumber
has rendered us
              stardust and sphinx
mused and fused - our flesh again
in hymns
     this Sunday morning...

Less stealth of night but copious
is touch
         slithering undulations
         of parched needs
for us to swim in the hunger of its seas

Since sensing sensual stiffness
     your shifting
            your shaft
my blood collects
    to tighten what is mine within

When this grabs hold of us
like the blinding noon
we forgive
           that it is Sunday
mourn that I thirst for you.


Such thickets of urges
   juicy sweet confection / completion's
masculine deprivation
         half grin half flurry,
                     No worry
displacing thoughts of infection
secure in our relations...

Stretching with both my hands
behind me
        gripping with claws of the passionate
buttocks raised (waiting for rain)
as if to be seen & named
      by the gods' - creative breath and shame
           I yearn for your embrace
Heaven forgive me
for the heaven he gives me...

Affirmed
as though we were the firmaments
      sky without permission (or air rights)
to fly
comely
and in our rhythmic trance

we become Spartans
(with our war cry)
         Driven
                 Breathing
One defeat
          Shriven as we're falling
One choice to leap.

                          Exhale Olympus
Fallen pillars' hush.

Good morning, Love
   a taste of how Nirvana feels

constellations and the heavenly
wheel.

Stretching.
Eyes open to take in my world.
         Stretching

Behind
Reaching for you

if just briefly knowing
the whole truth...

Moan.
      Y a w n.
Purr.

How I adore our meanderings.
Mornings of misfits, nomads,
waking to the sturdy fur of you,
     pecks, abs, inner thigh
unclad
body heat...

The world outside feels absent,
your hardness
your breath
presently
itching against yesterday's 5-o'clock
     shadow...

We breakfast on such sensations satin
A thousand thread count
sifting in grips of sheets
          creating
silken dunes of flesh creamy hues
soft mounds from our twist
                tied
tethered limbs
then opening those passages
with French kisses
     and humid licks
our lips like
camelback & cobra songs
to Sahara
           Heatwaves
where we worship obelisks
until slumber
has rendered us
              stardust and sphinx
mused and fused - our flesh again
in hymns
     this Sunday morning...

Less stealth of night but copious
is touch
         slithering undulations
         of parched needs
for us to swim in the hunger of its seas
Since sensing sensual stiffness
     your shifting
            your shaft
my blood collects
    to tighten what is mine within

When this grabs hold of us
like the blinding noon
we forgive
           that it is Sunday
mourn that I thirst for you.


Such thickets of urges
   juicy sweet confection / completion's
masculine deprivation
         half grin half flurry,
                     No worry
displacing thoughts of infection
secure in our relations...

Stretching with both my hands
behind me
        gripping with claws of the passionate
buttocks raised (waiting for rain)
as if to be seen & named
      by the gods' - creative breath and shame
           I yearn for your embrace
Heaven forgive me
for the heaven he gives me...

Affirmed
as though we were the firmaments
      sky without permission (or air rights)
to fly
comely
and in our rhythmic trance
we become Spartans
(with our war cry)
         Driven
                 Breathing
One defeat
          Shriven as we're falling
One choice to leap.

                          Exhale Olympus
Fallen pillars' hush.

Good morning, Love
   a taste of how Nirvana feels
constellations and the heavenly
wheel.
Stretching.
Eyes open to take in my world.
         Stretching

Behind
Reaching for you

if just briefly knowing
the whole truth...

MmmMoan.
Y a w n.
Purrr...
How I adore our meanderings.

A Morning of misfits

Love waking to the sturdy fur of you,

Sac, pecks, abs, inner thighs,
unclad body heat.

Tho' the world outside feels absent,
your hardness
your breath
Is present
Against yesterday's 5-o'clock
shadow.

We breakfast on such sensations satin
thousand count threads
sifting and gripping sheets
creating silken
dunes of flesh creamy hues
soft mounds our twist
tied
tethered limbs
then opening passages with kisses
and humid licks
our lips:
camelback & cobra songs
to Sahara
Heatwaves
where we worship obelisks
until slumber
has rendered us
stardust and sphinx
Amused and fused our flesh
in hymns
this Sunday morning

I am
Stretching with both my hands
behind me
Clawing
buttocks raised (waiting for rain)
as if to be seen & named
one creative breath
Sunday's schooling shame,
yearning for his embrace...

Heaven forgive me
for the heaven he gives me...
Now
Exhale Olympus
Our Fallen pillars
hush.
Good morning, Love
I am

Stretching.
Eyes open wide
Stretching
Reaching out
Behind me
Reaching out for you
(Inside me)
if only briefly
knowing
the whole **** Truth…

(How I adored our meandering.)

MmmMoan.
Y a w n.
Purrr...
How I adore our meanderings.

A Morning of misfits

Love waking to the sturdy fur of you,

Sac, pecks, abs, inner thighs,
unclad body heat.

Tho' the world outside feels absent,
your hardness
your warm breath
Is present
Against yesterday's 5-o'clock
shadow.

We breakfast on such sensations satin
thousand count threads
sifting and gripping sheets
creating silken
dunes of flesh creamy hues
soft mounds our twist
tied
tethered limbs
then opening passages with kisses
and humid licks
our lips:
camelback & cobra songs
to Sahara
Heatwaves
where we worship obelisks
until slumber
has rendered us
stardust and sphinx
Amused and fused our flesh
in hymns
this Sunday morning

I am
Stretching with both my hands
behind me
Clawing
buttocks raised (waiting for rain)
as if to be seen & named
one creative breath
Sunday's schooling shame,
yearning for his embrace...

Heaven forgive me
for the heaven he gives me...
Now
Exhale Olympus
Our Fallen pillars
hush.
Good morning, Love
I am

Stretching.
Eyes open wide
Stretching
Reaching out
Behind me
Reaching out for you
(Inside me)
if only briefly
knowing
the whole **** Truth…

(How I adore the meandering.)

Preface

I was on the balcony of a dingy bar one evening and overheard a girl say the words 'downstairs people'. It may be that she was simply referring to the people on the street below us, or that she had birthed a divinely diverse contronym.
I staggered over to her table, like one of the biblical Magi who pre-drank on camelback all the way to Nazareth, and commended her creation. I asked if I may use the mystifying term. She agreed and I typed and saved the word(s) into my digital Notebook.
Thanks

DOWNSTAIRS PEOPLE

"Those poor Hebrew downstairs people on the river bank -
the flood came and washed away
their entire livelihood in a single day"
said Pharaoh, being fed grapes
while a second slave fanned a palm leaf to his face.

"I pity the downstairs people who will never see the top of the sky
as I do flying high in the heavens with
my wings forged of feathers" said
the courageous, ambitious mighty Icarus
as he touch the sun before he sunk.

"Commoners and peasants those downstairs people
with inferior blood and cesspool gene pools
akin to slaves of yesterday's glory days"
said the sibling king and queen in their fancy dress,
jewels and their crowns and all of the golden rest.

"Those slutty downstairs people with their
gardens and their swimming pools;
I wish I could splash all over them too"
said the third floor pervert in hot-and-bothered envy
watching the ******* clad figures splashing in ecstasy.

"We hate being downstairs people,
sardines in cubicles without air-conditioning
or views of the Manhattan skyline"
said the paper-pushers on Tuesday morning,
eleven September two thousand and one.

old times and knew times

  I was thinking about how I live now in a big apartment
with four bedrooms and their bathroom, and I study for me.
As a child, my mother and two other siblings had two
rooms and half a kitchen; the other half belonged to a woman
who had one room and two children.
She often had male visitors, and the children had to sit in the hall, and I told them stories, when my father and I crossed the Sahara on camelback, not that I knew my father he was always absent.
We had no bathroom, but there was a toilet in the basement
it had rats coming up from the bowl, one had to flush several times
before sitting down hoping the best. Peeing was done in
the kitchen sink.
We were poor but didn´t know it as everybody was poor it was
the way it was, but we laughed a lot the slightest thing set us off,
and my brother was great joke teller, and we enjoyed ourself hugely.
Living in a big apartment, I ask myself what happened to mirth
I know, I think, we just got old and our sense of humour,
think I have to go out and look for it-