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Sean Hunt Dec 2015
Inana Shlash

How I wish I knew you
I would have melted
And oozed into
Your shoes
lingering many hours
Before you finally
Took a shower

I would have been a blanket
Embracing your back
Nuzzling against the nape
Of your neck
Until you wandered away
To a cool breeze
On the deck

If the gods would have
Smiled on me
I could have been
A billion water droplets
Easing into the hundreds
Of thousands of pores
In your silken skin

Alas
Our missile
Blew you away
And I don't know what to say

 Sean Hunt  
Windermere, December 6 2015
(Her picture can be seen here)
https://www.facebook.com/sean.hunt.3720
Brycical Dec 2014
I am left in the forrest to die, a battered runaway slave, until a swamp mambo saves my life with some herbs and love over time, but I cannot let go of the fact she brought me back from the precipice of death, so for the rest of her breath I serve and protect her with honor and respect.  

I am an ancient Chinese nobleman betrothed to a bride for more money and land, except I'd rather spend the time with a common woman because she makes me feel and opens me up, but in the end I choose the power, and to my horror the bride has the woman's family removed from life.

I am a suave satyr, a boisterous and joyous half-goat who prefers the light of night, a rapscallion nymph chaser whose frenzied bacchanalia rife with wild ****** an ecstatic ******* even though a had a penchant for this shapeshifter whose eyes lifted me beyond an echo in time.

As an oracle, I am only beholden to the gods though I don't think the Kings and Queens understand my sister and me. Our feminine bodies flicker and dance in shadows, embers aglow as we flow between each other's souls and worlds to bring words of wisdom through smoke visions and hieroglyphic poems.  

I am a Viking, tired and hurt, our ship burns as my ****** body is momentarily buoyed in the frigid watery deep, proud yet ready to sleep until I realize this is my final battle yet won't reach Valhalla as I drown, the freezing drink slowly chokes my veins, the sound fades.

I feel free, a wild dakini gypsy between dimensions and time, with my sisterly crew of hypnotizing pirates making no bones what we want from the clients as our razor sharp bodies and piercing eyes cut through souls so we may outshine each other in stories and diamonds.
This is a sequel/prequel poem to my previous poem, found here...
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/991858/current-timeline/
J'observe depuis mon télescope
Au-delà des nuages
Ta photo qui sautille
Et je suis les courbes, les points et les lignes
Et je trace des figures imaginaires
Les constellations
Et soudain tu apparais
Endimanchée
Pénitente
Ultra Violette
Souriante
Entre deux ciels
Tu me fais signe
Et m'invites à danser
Et je te suis comme ton ombre
Je retiens mon souffle
Je plonge dans le mandala
De ton champ de Cinabre
Je viens à tes côtés
Je m'ancre à tes eaux
Je suis ton lama, ton gourou
Et toi tu es ma parèdre, ma  bouddha
Ma dakini souveraine
et je te déshabille en dansant
Et je déboutonne une après l 'autre
Les étoiles couleur aubergine
Qui composent ta constellation.
C 'est une constellation disparue
Que seul moi puis voir.
Il m'arrive à l 'oeil nu de t'apercevoir
Au détour d'un rêve comme en cet instant précis
Et la musique résonne si forte dans l 'espace
Je vois tes lèvres bouger mais je n 'entends rien
Mais soudain tes yeux hurlent
et tu me clignes ton nom en morse :
dash dot dash dot
dash dash dash
dash dot dash dash
dash dash dash
dash
dot
C, une longue, une brève, une longue, une brève
O, trois longues
Y, une longue, une brève, deux longues
O, trois longues
T, une longue
E, une brève.
Sitting in my car, steeping in misery.
At the end of another lonely lunch.
Playing on my phone, I saw you.

I’m not sure what happened precisely then,
that made me hold out my hand so boldly.
Only, a feeling washing over me.
That I was losing you.
Your interest, maybe.

Even though I was still trying to deny,
the pull and the see from the get-go,
I knew. Under the push and doubt,
I liked you. And your interest in me.
Skirting along the lines of PC.

I knew when you posted that video.
Some girl shimmy-shaking. Not very well.
Oh, the curves...

I wanted you to verb mine.

Walked past her on the stage in my mind.
Decked-out in dakini tribal,
making it rain.

In your lap.

Every part of my life was hell then.
And anytime you said anything,
chills up the spine.
Alive.

I was immune that day.
High as a kite, yet without a clue,
how much higher we would be,
in just a few hours.

And when I left to drive home,
the exact second I turned my car on,
began the lyrics of an acoustic song I love.
And had never heard on the radio before.

I found a line and then it grew
I found myself still thinking of you
I felt so empty and now I'm fine
but still it's burning when will you be mine


Sometimes I wonder,
if I hadn’t left exactly then,
if I hadn’t heard that specific song,
keyed up at just the right time…

Maybe I wouldn’t have been even bolder.
Maybe we wouldn’t have ascended,
hand-in-hand into the stratosphere,
shotgunning pineal heartstrum.

I deleted our conversation history,
when he found my poetry page.
Not to deny it, but to save it from him.
Keep him from tainting it.
Not one sacred character.

But I remember most of it.

That’s the thing:
I remember you, as if,
part of you continues to exist,
inside of me.

*do you remember all the songs that I have wrote for you?
all the songs that I have wrote for you...
Connor Jul 2015
Starlight
                                           fluttering over
                               the great euphoric episode of
                                                Victoria!
Cosm­os being packaged in the mail,
on its way now from Britain,
Sitar dancer on the inner harbor
jingling end time tunes to the ears
of the grateful.
Today is WEIRD!
Everyone is shaking hands and waving from Summertime fields,
                                 laughs escape the rooftops,
                          Owls begin to wear brighter colors.
                                Near August, post three day
                                  Northwestern Monsoon
                                THUNDER    R a-T-T-linG
                                          Double Decker
                                          past romances
                              on highways approaching
                                        The BC capital!
Articles topic the Utopian evidence
of the current generation
nearing Post Capitalist society.
All peoples smile still!
(Wouldn't that be something?)
Telescopes discovered Kepler 452b!
Another world, very much like our
own (I wonder if I'll see it one day)
Round-frame black hole glasses
Enamel downtown in golden tint,
solidifying this happiness!
                            The day is a colorful child
                            bestowing chalk drawings
                                 upon the asphalt.
            His Years 'round the garbage corner now.
                     India crafts a crown of laurel
                           For the innocent youth!
Sin predates them by centuries and wars, ***** and outta-lucks, paycheck to paycheck psychological warfare with the Western planet!
             But they're predisposed to the silent decade of
                                   internal purity,
              that BIG BIBLE BOOK has granted em'
              A get outta hell free card for some
                                 ####   a-years.

(While Virginia Hampton Roads Bridge-Tunnel 2011 mind-flash nostalgia permeates in my adult brain.

While North Carolina Top Sail Atlantic
sea salt stings thru my nostrils,
body boarding few miles away from
boardwalks with a nighttime view of
Milky Way Forever! (Age 14)

While Seattle shimmers aluminum skyscraper lights, Emerald City Winter where outside my hotel window I focus on
the Space Needle distantly blinking
the spirit of
Edward E. Carlson and John Graham, Jr.
up up up to Dharmakaya!
That improv performance near Pike Place Market with Charisma, Julie N Severen! SPONTANEOUS WISECRACKS BEING PAID TO BE SPONTANEOUS WISECRACKS.

While Seminyak, Southeastern Orient, Is hailed with cloud-formt waterfalls, and I watch, containing the inexpressible joy of that particular moment. Mind relapsed to whispers of Dakini,
(Contentedness possible in adulthood after all!)

                                   Celestial energy rebounds
                 thru all entities on the sidewalk including myself.
                  delivering metaphysical felicity to all future loves
                   who find occasional joys in the cycle of living.
                         Who make more of themselves than
                                 tying their shoes to sleep.
some mornings are weighted
heavy like a tree trunk
others are as light as the breeze by the ocean side
the opal wearers stare at her third eye
longing for musical indifference
amidst the sagacity of incubation
stationing direct the planet turns around again
sans neglect you are apathetic at best
please sell me your music
is there no pleasure left in the moment
the smell of cacao, coffee, cardamom and cinnamon
offering up to the gods of wisdom
they lift us to the sky
on tired thighs
i try to hide but your light shines everywhere
i wonder about the magic
if anyone can see it anymore
are we no longer connected to the source
or have we lost our course
its in the present that you find it
a liquid attempt at lightning
a languid temperature
tempting me with its forgotten melody
methodical as a nightmare
severing connections to our ancestors
this measuring has gotten us all confused
and tongue tied
up to no good
i stood still for you
for a thousand centuries
i bared my head for you and shaved my soul
the dormancy of the dakini still lingers on my fingers
sing for me in the afternoon mist
i insist on letting you know that i love you
Sean Hunt Jun 2016
Beware the dakini
With the steamy
Serrated edge knife
She alleges
The knife
That can slice
Can tear
And equally bare
The flesh
To air

Be prepared!
this intergalactic
electric ecstatic dakini
spinning enchantments
to launch dew souls
Rocky Mountain hiiiiiiighhhh
brewing bitchinest dreams
inside lenticular lookout
fixin to spit stitches
at broken globular
after I mend my frays
who babbles hypothetically
thru abstruse WTFerland
wants you to know:

I do
believe

in thinks and its
holy whattheshits

here there
everywhere

all. of. it.
dormancy of the dakini
lingers on my fingertips
sing for me in the afternoon mist
i insist on letting you know that i love you
will you join me on the simple path
a stash of herbs in your pocket
a sarong around your waist
i sense you have great taste like an empress
who can smell the best spices from a thousand yards away
the flowering dancers in your court
the fruit that falls on your doorstep
i inspect it for signs of bruising
yet you are choosing it all
the round and the tall
along the course of a lifetime
the path will bend like the curves of your spine
but in your smile i find my arrows
i long for your hurt
to take it away
and sit beside your flaming heart
it tears me apart
this permission is a curse
this persimmon is about to burst with ripeness
a damp spot between your lips
i lick the slit that opens
a smile is all that i insist upon
a lock of love from the dragon's tongue
a shower for your song
how much for all of these images
large, small or stolen
and styled on the young
eyebrows of the dawn

— The End —