"carnally" poems
On chilly, weird wet nights in Seoul
lonely trash cans cuddle up for warmth,
feral alley cats zydeco in the rain,
street folk sip from brown-bags,
that will get them through the night.
Our umbrella slips through fog,
stealthy as a U-boat through depths.
I confess a fetished fondness for the click
of her heels upon the cobblestone walk;
the Angel Falls of raven hair down
the leather shoulder of my trenchcoat.
We will harbor heat within the sultry sheets,
toss carnally upon waves of sensuality,
opposites secluded in the Yin and Yang of night.
Feb 25, 2012
Feb 25, 2012 at 3:46 AM UTC
In the twilight of immeasurable hope
I run, I pace, I stagger.
A moon of sorts tucks its hefty beams
Behind the gauzy, twisted zephyr,
As if teasing that its crisp, round, clarity
is merely an echo of a distant, convoluted story:
a myth.
One moment I am carrying out my quotidian realities
Unfiltered, unbridled, lucid,
Running my fingers through laughing waves
of golden, auburn richness,
Letting my wavering, billowing hair
slowly melt into the quavering, trembling wind…
When suddenly-
I am caught in the labyrinth of veils.
I, with my hair and my warmth,
I am auriferous.
And these sheets, oh these hangings!
They float like century-worn cobwebs
And they ensnare me so.
This is where the tangled messages
And mangled mixed signals
All wriggle themselves into form
And make their zombie graveyard.
And yet there are sparks,
Little voices trapped in burning baubles
Shining like the ever-loving soul of the universe,
Which whisper the stories of the moon-thing
Beyond the borders of this haze-land.
Sometimes I attempt to fashion
these ethereal sparklings into my hair.
They suggest insanity, so close to my ears,
And I can’t fill my soul with enough…
I cling to the faith that they will lead me out
Into the amaranthine beyond.
I come back here often,
Always hoping that today will be the day
That the beams from above
Will reach to seek me.
For that, I will love the mists,
And carnally sip away
At the nebulous, crepuscular,
Pools of Fantasy.
But in retrospect,
I should never have told you
That your name means “Purple” to me.
Sep 30, 2012
Sep 30, 2012 at 1:35 AM UTC
The attraction is there
Undeniably so
I can not run from it
I can not hide from it
It's there
And that's okay
You and those eyes
Admiring my body
Followed by your hands caressing my form
Oh it's there
And I like it
Of course
We are doing animal things
All night long
In a bed not made for ourselves
When morning comes we will become people again
And do people things
And go about our lives until night comes
When we can be animals again
You'd rather do animal things
Than people things
And so would I
Responsibilities take you from me
And that's all right
Because they are important
And I understand
Besides
I'm the rational one
I have to tell you to do these people things
Or we would do animal things all into the day
I'm carnally pleasing to you
I know this
I see it in your eyes
And how your hips respond to mine
Instincts take over whenever we are together
Animal things have to be done
The lack of self-control
In a bed that is not made for ourselves
Is so very supposed to be
Meant to be
And that's okay
I can not run from it
I can not hide from it
This undeniable attraction to you
Is so overwhelming that all I think about
Is doing these animals things
Even if I am the rational one
Doing animal things
In a bed not made for ourselves
Is quite all right
It's more than okay
It's perfect.
Nov 18, 2010
Nov 18, 2010 at 1:10 PM UTC
eventually,
i will eagerly experience
all your fifty-four flavours
but in this moment
i'm only in the mood
for neapolitan
every inch of surface
melting with the graze
of my tantalized tongue
guided by the tempting taste
of your vanilla-scented skin
i candidly drizzle
chocolaty syrup
onto your milky mounds
before i suckle the center
and tease the cherry ****
tenderly between my teeth
but i'm in the highest hopes
for the strawberry flavors
especially after the fruit
has been sufficiently savored
by your luscious lips
(both pairs of them)
and covered copiously
in carnally-compelled cream
finger-whipped
by a duo of digits
or maybe three
until you sensually scream
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 6:03 AM UTC
Wielding one balance before me:
Divine intent, no tool for an evil genius
Levied ‘gainst one jar wrought of glass,
Within fine grains of coal.
My sins may weigh to graphite
Fitting, for no blanket of Heaven
Suits my restlessness.
Cast me on parchment
Where I spell out the pain
Of never capturing truth—no human may.
Enigma, Aestheticus, vibrant, complete
Finished, or full. No, I utter to Venus
A Pygmalion word to know
All as art and beauty so well
As to paint it carnally.
Give me that which is love made manifest
On lithe little toes, walks her
Which, parsed out selectively
Is revealed in awesome moment, eternal
Subjectivity. Either she steps from a canvas
Strides from a dream, I awaited it, organic
To come into being, to escape my grasp
And make useless poetry.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 9:52 PM UTC
*This bed seems so huge,
so wide
and yet here we lay
like we're
oceans away
in the Mediterranean*
*spaced-out from each other,
your so far from me.*
*We're spent,
in deliberate denial,
unfinished or satisfied
without words,
without understanding,*
*we hold onto our lacerated heart's,
giving in the only way known
carnally,unabated & undoubted*
*least in the carnal way.
I crave the unknown,
to be explored like never before,*
*to be made whole
and touched within my soul,
where my body ignites
from the inside out.*
*I'd like to know
what it'd feel like to be*
consumed
*by "Love's"
* lustful ******
*more than the
heat of passion,*
*in such a way
which leaves me quaking,
shaking, quivering
and yearning for more.*
*Once we've spent our
feverish attempts
on last-night's seductions,
under a moonlit sky,*
*I'm left inexorable,
as my body spasms,
longing for more than
what the flesh attempts to give.*
*I'll argue against the pejorative
illusions of our love making,
which deludes my mind*
to believe this is what
*it means to have
"Love's" acceptance*
*without the actuality's
of loving me....*
*We were intoxicated-
with wonderment
as we explored
one another,*
*yet
"Love's"
*touch nor "Love's"
*inspirational caresses
& soulful idealization's
were present.*
*It never enter that room,
sedately I felt a
magnificent release,*
* yet I'm still longing for
"Love's" fulfillment*
*and for you to concur
my deepest emotions,
as you'll ****** deeply
within my velveteen walls.*
* I'll moan,
crying out for what's*
*about to come
and for that
moment we'll be one.*
*But only within
that moment
because you*
*know as well
as I do*
*that "Love's"
making such*
*a Fool of me!*
* Always Me Ayeshah ™ ®*
K.A.C.L.N ©
All right reserved ®
Copyright 1977 - Present ©
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 1:24 PM UTC
Spirit descends
Taking shape
From
Nirvanic infinitude
And is carnally crystallized
In an incarnadine
Shrine of flesh,
Bone and marrow.
Let the anima of wisdom
Hear the unuttered reverberations
That ripple as a shockwave
Through this
Vast, multidimensional
Cosmos
And utter
The esoteric secrets of existence.
A verisimilitude of life
Loometh in the irides
Of the
Gasconading celestial
And we
Must wax lowly
To
Wax lofty.
Trust that something
Interstellar, intergalactic, macrocosmic, multiversal;
Fatidic, fathoms all
With
Omnibenevolence.
Ye, this
Visage of Creation keeps vigil
In the corporeal pulse of plight.
Fulgurant perdition is for
But an
Ephemeral exhalation, Elysium is for eternity;
(Therefore)
Gaze heavensward
Knowing the Holy Dove
Shall always
Rise and fall.
Promises await:
A deific covenant
Etched in the
Slabs of our hearts,
(I Hear)
The Requiem of Lovelit Life resolved
In the
Key of the Archean.
Spirit rises,
Dismantling form
And intertwines infinitely
All that is, was, and will be;
Circular & cycling
Forevermore
The Cosmo-Plexus of Empyreal Love
Sees all.
(Se' lah)
Nov 19, 2019
Nov 19, 2019 at 10:13 PM UTC
go ask ------ if i care.
ask her if she'll let you
slip inside while you're at it;
tell her that you love her
two weeks in.
you're too rough and
the polaroids you took
left me with black
tiger stripe bruises on
my sarasota gold tinted thighs.
everyone i've talked to,
everyone who knows you,
warned me that you were a creep.
but how could a darling angel
turn out to be such a freak?
you're suffocating like his
smoldering cigarette smoke
and you choke me out with
your big macho paw just
the same way he did last december.
i am not a possession;
i belong to no one and
i surely don't belong to
a tall, lanky creep like you.
do you hear me?
i'm a young teenage girl with
ribbons in my hair and bright
white ruffled socks pressed
into the carpet; have you
forgotten that little fact?
you were all to eager to pummel
my juvenile cherry pie raw,
but you were only ever focused
on your singular, deviant,
carnally charged pleasure.
Jul 5, 2018
Jul 5, 2018 at 12:46 AM UTC
Lust...
Carnally minded,
Screams chaos,
Seeks selfish pleasure...
Never reliable.
Love...
Spiritually minded,
Whispers calm,
Seek another's pleasure...
Forever faithful.
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 4:41 AM UTC
When courteous behavior,
-is demonstrative conception
public display not playing, serious
weform clouds
of knowing anonymous unknew as
we, the not good Babel was proposed
to end, or keep veiled in mystery
until the time prophesied,
new winds, new gyres, old loops
when no closed beneficence loops
are not disclosed, lids left ajar
to sufficient
audience.
Dunbar designators ding, we think
this
could become mirror neuronically
true…
Monkeys washing yams,
mimesis minds mime watch
studies map mean points in trends
watching work done was, yea, is as
we are
by our very virtue verily true man
knack with sense sharing, good
for most, bad for some, hero,
front and center, fully simultaneous
myelinated dual brain, instant ifey
whenever two or more agree, we
develop a documented ability, us
use, we used to think, words, we say if
is as if was, word users saying words
we obediently define, saying as
speaking used spelled orders
to put dhe, here, I stand,
to where I reach, I defend as
any carnally minded creature may,
- there's the fiction friction, say
- queue the answer, play the theme,
- remind the audience, we already
- know, this pattern, that trait, we seeing
- us as those same protected by standers,
- benefitting from good, despite gritty real,
- glittering like a Trump structure reality TV
2025
It is a fine sunny day in May, high in the Cuyamacas,
far from the mob-ilized defenders of JWST boundaries
on what we all may learn to be a bit in, a particle,
accelerated once past now to then when you read me
to assure one's self sense reflex
adrenal rush, to remain, alive
and kicking… to remain, resting easy,
atop a cake of congealed lipids
treading water, waiting
good sense
as common senses keep evolving,
as our means for making it increases.
May 16, 2025
May 16, 2025 at 5:07 PM UTC
The only division between us is the parting of our lips,
the hovering of lingering fingertips,
the hesitation of tongues unsure of where to go next,
the distance of arching backs peeling away from wrinkled sheets--
the radius of lust and elastic potential.
The only senses of time known to us are intervals of forever, divisions of eternity and multiples of infinity,
the hours between blinks shared from sleepy eyes into sleepy eyes,
mornings spent counting freckles,
measuring the weight of vertebrae wound around each other--
stacking flesh on top of flesh, expanding territory.
The wait between see you next and you're here now,
the seconds streaming together years of my life
that suddenly make sense,
semblances of me strung together with fragments of you--
a collage of existence, a quilt of strewn feelings.
The destiny realized by legs intertwined,
walking towards oblivion under glimmering reflections of our stardust
entities, celestial beings beating carnally to the drumming
of my nails on your back and your grip on my neck.
The only place we've needed is the space big enough
for unapologetic desire and met expectations,
the mountain of affection, each smile straining towards the summit of
yes, more, more,
the bubble around our fantasy, protected from the gritty graveling
of bitter lovers lost, surrounding us with crippling cliches,
the escape of home, mine or yours, ours whenever,
the simple joy of leg room unrestricted, our mess sprawled like Picasso
before us, looking at what we've done to each other--
the masterpiece of two souls lighting their lives on fire, burning the world away with friction,
then blowing it out with suffocating, smothering satisfaction.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 10:49 PM UTC
Twisting, traveling tongue tastes
passionate pink parted places
easily enjoying each exceptional ester
moist muffs munched merrily
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 10:06 PM UTC
A failure to pursue
The very basic things in life
Shall lead to entanglements
Promulgating strife.
Shall lead insinuation,
In a flexing of the call...
That entitlements are really
Not entitlements, at all.
Assuming that the black man
Has blood as red as thine,
But thee are as lilly white
As a floret on a vine?
Assuming our assumptions here
Are sootier than sin
Then the rationale offered,
Is ridiculously thin.
Then you who have loved
Wear black hate in your heart
For they who aspire
To intrude from the dark,
All they, who conspire
To trespass your day
To sift carnally, perhaps,
Your lover away.
Who would argue, then,
The precipitous tone
That configures your honesty
When caught out alone.
Infidelity lost
In the mire of a lie....
Which, expediently, slipped
From your sweet lips, to fly?
Where now the mercy,
Where now the grace,
Of the insidious smirk
That smears your face...
Having eaten the turkey,
Savoured the wine
With those War torn Ghazan's
Starving, brutally, in grime?
The curse is all around us
The Woke, Effete and Prim,
The Holy and the Righteous
All wear that specious thing,
An Entitlement to Elevate,
A Right to Wear the Crown
A place just to the left of God
Which keeps the riffraff down.
Irrespective of the nation,
All languages and hue
Through strata of society
This malady is YOU!
This spectre of entitlement
In the self imposed Elite
Is now the key to immolation
In humanity's defeat.
[email protected]
30 December 2023
Dec 30, 2023
Dec 30, 2023 at 4:32 AM UTC