"flexed" poems
*i always imagine you so very graceful
through the masochists ordeal
a god form of supplication
seeing your face
in love
fascinated by shimmering kisses
that hurt, yet please
wet lips and sharp teeth
glamors that excite
cold blade licks dragged across
tender bellies
naval
buttocks
and flexed toes
stinging
then radiating outwards
wounds become lilies
mouth *******
tremulous weeping kisses
ecstatic cruelties
blood glitter sacrifice
your supplication
love pangs
i'm shaking apart over you
your countenance
a cascading dream
moved to tears of adoration
your limitless
yielding
like surrenders caress
an infinite communion
with fragile limbs
silky wrapped spools
innerness of desire veiled in a shroud
a faltering star that glistens crimson
nymph of purgation
ash volcanic
cells en-flamed with tongues that bite
subsumed in scented vapors
a confection of **** and ***
waves embrace ineffable shores
passed the discontinuity of life
I have the most immense feeling of love for you
am i not
the saint death
quietly following you
through life's labyrinth
innocuous
waiting humbly in the wings
i am all ache for you
a vice of kisses
a brief encounter
that eats your sight and senses
ushering you to immortal freedom
a swooning garland of fire that enlivens
the body electric
a mist of molecules
your tears intoxicate
i am new life with in you
budding embryo
that consumes its mother for nourishment
and saturates like dew drops
as it echoes through oblivion*
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 3:50 PM UTC
a curved pastry
like a prune danish
in a sway
a weaving kiss
anointed by a melting stick of butter,
pushed and puddled
deep and slow
the shape of a heart
with a hole in the middle
ooow dark fig
stinking rose
a comfort that sweetens with the grace of form
and pops like a trigger releasing a bullet
i covet
with eyes like erections
pants sticky wet
hot glue factory
for you love, my *** angel
red skin girl gaping
with circular yearning set in motion
tarnished petal mix meister
sinful hot house
for quaking tongue and lips,
a wild cherry *** kisser
spiked ***** blushing
lord of ****
solar ******* hero
flexed and oiled
to the rescue
a god send
triumphant and blessed
looks like a fast cigarette boat
hitting the speed bumps hard
she said yes please
dip like
nautilus of the black sea
What?
no loitering
no parking
not a through street
haahaahaa
****
that
****
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 1:11 PM UTC
I walked along this path through the trees
Lo and behold, I fell on my knees
For what do I see, but this vision of beauty
**** no, tis a hunk, boy was he a cutie
His muscles well oiled, as he flexed before me
My heart all a flutter, knew not how to be
So what do I do, shall I play the shy dame?
Or should I strip naked regardless of shame.
A moment had passed, I planned what to do
Despite the feeling that I knew I would rue
I walked to this god, who stood still as I watch
Looked into his eyes, as my hand grabbed his crotch
“how dare you ****** me! I’m a woman of grace!”
“you shall not demean me, no shame I will face!”
And so I turned to walk away
I would not let this man ever sway
To let me lose the virtue I gained
Despite my desire, oh how I have pained
I turned my head to take one more look
So many I’ve shunned, I could write a book
The doubt in my head took hold of me
And doubled my pace, so that I may be free
…..then I went to the 7 eleven to buy batteries
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 3:23 PM UTC
in a taut black dress
you brush by me
you are
dark summer fruit simmering hot
a sopping estuary
i gather you into me
you cascade like an undulating cat
giggles like trembling gelatin
cherry kiss lips
agile muscle shifting
pleating like soft furs
against my thunderous chest
your tremulous tongue rupturing
like spiced chrysanthemums from heaven
i inhale your lavender breath
your saliva melts stormy mouth up-leaping
i eat your soul
and paradise ********
licking honey rainbows
filling my mouth a thousand times
and a thousand more
its never enough when some one has your heart
suffocate me in your drooling mouth
your body is my aviary
and hot house of man eating plants
i run to your teeth
beautiful cleavers gleaming
shivering with excitement
from your dragging bites
my blood languishing at your feet
have no regard for me
eat my love
i live to be swallowed by you
i hold you through the night
all dire raptures
dark in mystic paradise
tangled in your hair
may mourning never find us
torrid scorched from flames infernal
black candles uncrossing pasts
devils **** your adoring toy
kisses never ceasing
hot weather nostrils steaming
your flexed body writhes
a royal contortion
your heart cleaving
so that i may like a sun
consume your darkest edges
bitter chocolate so sweet
to fill griefs mouth with ecstasy
my heart aches like a siren of echoes
calling to you
shaking your gates down
you are a titanic gravity
and i'm forever tumbling
like eternal burning ashes through cobalt night
it is a steep decent into heavens arms
as i crumble
all smashing diamonds
and hissing flames
into open wounds weeping glitter
your chin jutting
throat stretched
while pulling the roots of your hair
exposing arteries pulsing
stuffing myself on your marrow
you plume like a volcanic moon
showering me with spooling stars
and butter **** kisses
ill turn you into my glistening little *****
all swollen tears for more
rituals of adoration
kisses like monsoon rains
i look up at your supple form
your haunches my temple
worshiping you
smothered in heavens jaws
you cascading pantie-less
in a taut black dress
Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 1:36 PM UTC
The Pigeon Gent,
He woos and coos around the river bent.
Pursues his muse with artful dance and skillful prance,
With inflated neck and ruffled plumage, until his energy or luck is spent.
He then resides by ebbing tides to ponder on his next advance.
"Now Now", "Whats This" the gent exclaims,
A shadow looming from the skies.
With ***** and claps he glides and lands with full surprise,
He spies the intruder, "A fellow Brooder".
Pigeon gent cant believe his eyes.
Pigeon Gent cannot believe the sauce,
The scurge seems intent on taking his prize by force.
At once he knows he must respond,
And force this illbread vagabond to abscond.
At once chest puffed and muscles flexed,
With wild eyes he jabs and pecks.
To teach this ruffian respect,
So on his actions he may later reflect.
He stands his ground both large and proud,
To make example of this foul winged burglar from the clouds.
"You insult me sir" he shouts aloud,
To make his intentions clear for all the crowd.
For several rounds they fight and scuffle.
With intruder retreating, feathers ruffled.
Then bested suiter fairly parted,
The quarrel ends as fast as started.
The vanquished victor displays and grooms,
As peace and honour now resumes.
Soon the ripples upset the green,
An armada of ducks come on the scene.
Alerted by the heightend coos,
They race to see what act insues.
The mighty mallards, Kings of the river,
None contest their right of way.
Their ways of conduct such generous givers.
Majestic river royalty, the law is always what they say.
On bank or shallow pebbled river they have always been,
They love to feed and breed amongst the river scene.
There royal cape made up of browny reds and shimmering greens,
reflects and intejects on mirrored water skies and evergreens.
To their mates for life and lady lovers,
The mallard gent is like no others.
Such loyalties are seldom seen,
In modern times and different dreams.
Fine and lean with striking features,
Best examples of river teachers.
But at any moment no matter how abrubt,
A river duel may easily erupt.
Battle can ensue and rage,
As both apponents approach and engage.
For they mate for life as duck and wife,
A rarity in any age or life.
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 1:38 PM UTC
My world is folded
My mind is bent
Manipulated by
And itself
manipulating language
To counter the real
The brutal
With fragile structures
Language
A simple
Immaculate beauty
Though filthy at times
It can be turned
And flexed
with verbs and adverbs
Mistakes can be erased
Folded and written
My mind
This world
Where we meet
Is beauty
Imagined and executed
It is my escape
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 5:34 AM UTC
तत् त्वम् असि
*for sitar, mridangam, vina, musical spoons,
washboard, Jew’s harp and banjo*
(*the names Swami and Guru-ji can be replaced by
any other mystic names the reader wishes to substitute*)
Swami and Guru-ji went to the river
to wash their souls in the ***** water
filled brass pots while they were at it, singing:
“These are Gods –
worship them, worship them,
these are Gods –
won’t you worship them please”
Guru and Swami-ji flexed contortions
twisted minds and limbs in knots
sold each other secret mantras
to erase akashic records when the body rots
Swami and Guru-ji taught disciples
how to fast and hum and chant;
bound their ***** with priestly garments, saying
“These are Gods – worship them, worship them,
these are Gods – won’t you worship them please”
Guru and Swami-ji swallowed prana
purged their guts, then farted light
launched their chakras into oneness
in the ida and pingala of their third-eye sight
Swami and Guru-ji built a temple
around a monstrous calf of gold
bowed before the six-armed idols chanting
“These are Gods –
worship them, worship them,
these are Gods –
won’t you worship them please”
Guru and Swami-ji studied parchments
by the dim light of a feeble ray
railed and wailed at the sinful heathen
in the filthy Kali-yuga of the dying day
Swami and Guru-ji made ablutions
offered incense and holy foods
ate their share and smoked the profit, humming
“These are Gods – worship them, worship them,
these are Gods – won’t you worship them please”
Guru and Swami’s blissed devotions
entwined their members with the temple belles;
stuck their yonis up their lingams
in the twenty-seventh circle of the seven hells.
Swami and Guru-ji offered puja
wrote it all off as a karmic debt –
forced a shudra to bear the burden, screaming
“These are Gods –
worship them, worship them,
these are Gods –
won’t you worship them please”
Guru and Swami-ji meditated:
pure omniscience in eternal now –
drank fresh ***** from a heifer’s bladder
for they knew that it was soma from a holy cow.
Swami and the Guru merged with Brahman –
then went home to the wife and kids.
Told the servants to polish statues, saying
“These are Gods – worship them, worship them,
these are Gods – won’t you worship them please”
THE MORAL:
(slower solemn rhythm, no banjo or Jew’s harp)
Aaron’s calf is ground to powder,
cast upon the Ganges’ tide.
Every tribe shall taste its poison.
“This is God –worship Him, worship Him –
this is God – let us worship Him now…”
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 8:33 AM UTC
Betwixt the shrub and hubabubb
'neath bracken's shadowed scowl
came a Wren pop-hopping when
arrested by a yowl
He spied another grovely bird
chattering with the gloom
realising it had been observed
it screeked with spittled spume
*Stay back, stay back
alack, alack
I've nothing left to give
and should you shake the life from me
unhappy you shall live*
Like him the grovely had a one leg
and too the veshy eye
and when he flexed his deeker wings
he knew this bird must die.
The unctuous Wren popped back and forth
as did the groveley bird
and there they stood 'twix shrub and earth
exchanging not a word.
Just this once I'll let you go
announced the cautious Wren
he turned his fractious beak to blow
and was never seen again.
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 11:29 AM UTC
I am a raging fire on the inside and what the
world only sees, a wisp of smoke
emanating through me. Lightning, thunder
crackling on my skin I carve history on streets.
Sneaking quiet tender as a beast,
people bow down to the tremble I speak.
My hair is a string of storm, raising up in
the smell of abhor. My flesh runs in a fire of lava and gold
Fresh and real, like a snake I peel off my skin. Through the ashes I am reborn
I stir and devour men with my breath of smoke
Tingling, Fleeting like bright sun glow, I
I am the revelation of today’s tomorrow.
Scare, beware my lips a poison of reality
Drunk to the liquor of skulls, I am flexed
my body taken from an Agate stone
Sinister smile I am a black onyx erratic and wild
to every screech I keep. My finger on people’s lips
Be still I come revolting crackers in my head
I am the child of love, born with a stone in my bed.
Come all you who dare, eyes like a cat,
I will slit you naked with a stare
I run the city wild, shouting the ecstasy burning beating in my head
those who are laughing think I’m in despair.
Shiver, I fly high, swiftly like a storm, I greet people with a blow.
This is my confession, the true disclosure of lady leo limbo
I am a magic dynamo, those who cut will bleed and disappear in my timid ****
Walk, fly, run with me I’ll tie you in my body, those who whisper my name
I’ll build you a cage and and in my presence, I’ll slowly poison your veins.
Haven’t they told you of my stories,
I am a natural force of misery masked in smooth ivory.
The great fire I hold cuts swifter than a sword.
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 2:50 AM UTC
Eyes frantically searching the room,
symphony of sniffles,
shoulders hunched,
muscles flexed
as thin hands clutch thin arms;
keep it together man,
just a few hours left.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 5:46 PM UTC
I dreamed
there was a evil man
searching for wealth
beyond all riches
hidden in the hardened
sculpture of a woman
there was a hero too
I could not see his face
he journeyed to a sacred cave
to guard the precious treasure
he climbed inside
the statue's hollow center
and held the treasure to his chest
where it radiated
with such intensity
he had to close his eyes
it gently pulsed in his hands
calming the anxiousness
leaching sour
in his throat
the villain
shrouded black
entered the cave
a belligerent pirate
yelling obscenities
*where are you *****
when I find you, you'll be sorry
you think you can hide from me?
no one will ever love you
the way that I do*
his craven hunger upon seeing
the lost prize glowing heavenly
beneath sapphire stalactites
left this dreamer cold
he began to tear
at the sculpture's *******
with hands encased in forged steel
spiked fingernails slicing
until shimmering gold bloomed
in the statue's chest
zealously the villain tore deeper
molten yellow dripped
from his over-eager fingers
when suddenly from the center
came a flash of scorching fire
the villain dissolved to ash
without a single sound
the hero too transformed
into a luminous bird
not unlike a phoenix
he shook fresh wings
flexed honed talons
raised his crested head
and from hooked beak
there came a sound
like a choir of voices singing
the hero flapped three times
and soared out of the cavern
into the bluest sky
I'd ever seen
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 11:50 AM UTC
I am the cushion that life first rests in,
The crib meticulously created layer by layer,
The soft bed of flowers, glistening like blood,
The protector of all beings, the seat of care
My love is fuelled by the silver calmness
I gently extract from the first lunar night,
When the moon emerges from its dark sabbatical,
Armed with tales it gathered from the other side
Each day, its luminosity deepens, its stories
Turn more vivid, more wrenching, more morose,
I soak it all in- the pain, the suffering, the injustice,
And colour myself, in the darkest shade of rose
My red is no ordinary red, it is the
Culmination of every sister's deep cry,
It is the crimson of anger that can only be felt,
By the cradle entrusted with preservation of life
I am full and brimming, with pangs too strong
And hues of vermilion too dark to contain,
I rock back and forth, my cot full of stories,
Twisting, flailing and writhing in pain
And then I burst out and let freely flow,
The dam I created with laments of loss and love
Painted with conversations lasting until twilight,
With my cratered friend in the skies above
Petal by petal, as I lose my form and disintegrate,
She is connected to each woman's cry that I assimilate,
Flexed at the pelvis, helpless yet so strong, she listens,
And understands the lore I sing about, every twenty-eighth.
Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 7:43 AM UTC
She gained ten pounds of muscle the summer she worked in Alaska.
She’d have that slight tone for the rest of her life –
a glimmer when she flexed to stock shelves at Vons the next year or to take a turkey out of the oven or to climb a ladder or to carry her sleeping daughter fifteen years later.
A flashing tight tendril of muscle in her triceps.
Feb 1, 2013
Feb 1, 2013 at 12:44 AM UTC
I grew out my beard.
I grew out my stomach.
My ears ring randomly.
My eyes see things differently.
I speak or say less. I move in silence.
I sleep in when I want.
I haven't touched razors since my return
nor rifles since the field ops.
I've grown in maturity mentally.
I've grown insensitive verbally.
I've grown to miss the uniform
and pride of belonging in a brotherhood;
I miss my extended family.
I miss the people, not the troubles.
I miss the gym, where others alike
flexed invisible muscles.
My days once had routine,
pattern, structure and rhythm.
Weekends full of workouts, worship, and beer.
Weeks full of work, blood, sweat, and tears.
I've grown in experience.
I've regained freedom as a civilian.
But the transition has been a grueling process.
Yet, I've grown to be grateful nonetheless,
as not everyone gets to go back "home" ...
(remember the fallen) ...
However, if I'm honest, I don't think there's ever
an actual adjustment...
[I'm growing]
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 9:55 AM UTC
replacing white lines with gray ash and sleeping in beds for sleeping in bathrooms and you wonder if you had any self respect in the first place because this afternoon you tried to think of your happiest memories in the past year and it wasn't when you were in someone's arms or thinking of your successes in the mirror while you flexed your kickass young *** it was when you were smoking bummed menthols and your friend commandeered a miniature tractor in the tenderloin and conducted two drug deals in less than 30 minutes and you watched her disdainfully with her girlfriend and wondered where on ******* earth you could get a three dollar old fashioned and let a forty year old flirt with you for coke and you wouldn't even have to do anything for it wouldn't life be nice like that
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 5:32 PM UTC
i'm a straight curve. burning cool **** and nothing opened breathtaking shutters peaceably. i flexed shattered notions and crepitus crept sundripping ****** a feminine spark ferociously naked. between her ******* i'm god.h!
Dec 28, 2010
Dec 28, 2010 at 12:47 PM UTC
One hundred and something beats per minute,
A happy tune to keep me
with it
As I stare out of the bus window
In-ear phones cancelling out,
The ambient sounds
Of busy Cambridge City
Always enjoying the diversity
Finally seeing the love
On Victoria avenue,
I saw two little girls
Sat on a tree branch together
Dangling as it flexed,
Over Jesus green
Probably siblings
Maybe even friends
I felt their feelings
Even on this crowded journey
I long for forms of childhood
Carelessness and joy
I long for companionship
Brotherly and sisterly love
I long for happiness
Smiles and sunshine forever
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 12:03 PM UTC
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you
I missed the feeling of your **** between
my lips
and your ***
when it drips
down my chest
and my thighs, pressed tight
are still slippery on the inside.
I’m an eel moving
with the pull of your current.
I’m a siren
singing full volume in the desert.
I want your elixir
your kingdom ***
in the bedroom,
but you’re not dreaming.
Late night snacking
on this *****
you’ve got a craving
and my hips
won’t quit
until you’re shaking
reeling
from the thrill of it.
Daddy goes down,
but his last call doesn’t come til’ sun up.
Shape me and mold me
every color of
your ****** deviancy.
I’m not a cure,
but I’m fixing
to explore the furthest reaches of your boundaries
of this bed
of your – flexed fingertips.
I’ll wake you with my mouth
if you put me to bed with yours.
I’m pleased to please you,
sweet release in these sheets,
tangled up inside me.
Your aftershocks got me shook.
To the boy with the eyes,
the color of the sea –
I fell into more than your bed.
May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 2:56 PM UTC
White traces across the wooden flooring from freshly powdered feet. Muscles stretching to their maxim capability while the body leaves the ground for just a fraction of a second. Knees bent one moment, then quickly flexed straight with the use of the several small ligaments running down the lower half of the body. Blood is being pumped double time through the bodies most vital ***** and the lungs are contracting and expanding with such timing. The right side of the brain sends signals to every inch of the body. Dancing is an art form, and it is a way to become one with the your inner soul.
The moments that my arms break through the air and my feet flex using every muscle, those are the moments I feel the most alive.
When my brain is creating emotions, my body wants to reveal them through movement. Toss away the sorrow and embrace the new found love. When my feet leave the ground and then land with such placement and thought, happiness can be expressed. With the exhale and curving of the spine, stories can be told.
My body has not experienced this feeling for months now. It aches to be set free to express my inner sorrows, thoughts, and worries. My feet are longing to blister with the movements. My spine is weak from the time away. My movements rusty, but still there. Like a world renown pianist dusting off his grand or a child riding her bike on the first day the snow has melted off the sidewalks. I am craving the renewal of my soul and the expression of my body.
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 1:10 PM UTC
*reflecting on
what drives me
the sensuality
of her willing sacrifice
every inch
a supplicant
feminine vulnerability
a badge of courage
how gorgeous
she is
my little dancer
*** perfect
foot perfect
body flexed
**** drooling tears
vessel of the Goddess
caresses that
turn a pitcher
into
Aladdin's lamp
dream maker
a philosophers stone
Aphrodite's afterbirth
hysterical elasticities
she my savior
let me eat her like Christ
sublime posed flexed
**** open
ready please she whispers
to be impaled
bat thighs like spread wings
inside dark brooding interiors
ready to be engorged
blood like ink
octupussies arms
that **** and pull
that write i love you
in writhing gasmus
Our suns last gasp
tumultuous
igniting soul quakes
eats its own
with
kisses of fire
tremulous
taking all life with it
oh jewel of night
scrambling a thousand moons
swallowed
by hells
shimmering constellations
like starved arterial glistening *****
no mercy
in the glitter of cleavers
yet all
ecstasy
ecstasy
ecstasy*
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 1:33 PM UTC
Pride is good.
Fear is bad.
But it's velocity that makes me sad.
Here I come.
False alarm.
Tents and fireworks to keep me warm.
Well, I can't say, what I don't know.
What's a ship without a captain after all?
And I can't preach, what I don't pray;
As I fall for every empty word I say.
And I wander, too.
And I wonder, too.
I stole a dream.
I wrestled a bear.
I watched the sun go down in Lincoln Square.
I stood upright.
I flexed my chest.
A heart in agony I went to bed.
Now here I come. Down the hall.
I keep my front door open after all.
But I can't preach, where I don't pray.
And I fall for every empty word I say.
And I wander, too.
And I wonder, too.
In the clouds - will I need a reason?
In the clouds - will I need to brag?
I can't believe how strange it is to be anything at all.
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 6:39 PM UTC
I have a code of ethics,
Everything that I am and ever will be,
All that I’ve learned and can’t be taught,
Things that I’ve flexed to fit in myself,
I want to fuse them together into a tapestry,
Useless metaphors.
It’s impossible to summarize it,
The whole of any being is too complex to fit,
That’s what’s terribly great,
To have too much to say and not say it,
Paradox.
I need and don’t want,
I help and don’t hurt,
I dream and don’t sleep,
I do everything and nothing,
Philosophy.
We’re good and bad,
It’s perfectly alright to have differences,
Don’t hurt others for them,
We have too much to gain from learning ourselves,
Acceptance.
Since this is a restricted poem I can’t continue and I wouldn’t want to,
Not because of the work, but of my code of ethics
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 11:21 PM UTC
A crow rested on a fence
and I wondered what this story-book fiend
with his dark, beady eyes, clever sense
and his feathers well-preened
wanted from someone as hollow as me.
I couldn't do anything but wait and see.
What did one say when faced with a crow
who had no appointments to rush to
no place he must go?
As if speaking was something I could do.
So with a wooden arm I gave him a little wave.
Pleased, he came closer, that fabled young knave.
I could not move much and I could not speak
as the crow stopped right at my rooted feet
and prodded my foot with his beak.
I'm a listless liar he deemed worthy to meet.
So I did not speak and I did not move
an inaction of which the crow did not approve.
He flew back to his fence that creaked
and shifted when the wind pressured its joints.
The forceful draft stung my eyes so they leaked
tears, I found I always disappoint.
The crow flexed his black wings
eyes closed as, for him, the gale sings.
I croaked out a question from deep in my throat
the wind became a whisper as the crow paid attention
"Are you here to jeer and gloat
over my bad decisions and poor intentions?"
He shook that dark head and said
"You're a terrible liar. I'm here to help instead."
"But are you not a portender of death
here to show me I have the illest of luck?"
Why can I not catch my breath?
Wondrous wings glide on waning wind then tuck
neatly against his back for he chose my shoulders
to better speak words that doused what smolders.
The crow rested on my shoulders and cawed
a sound soft and broken
and I thought it terribly odd
that the crow would caw when it was well-spoken.
So when the pressure of panic permeated my chest
the crow spoke again so my horrible heart could rest
"If I were just a crow residing on a fence..."
He gestured with his wing to where he was before.
"Then I'd have left you to your own offense
and not show you what you often ignore."
His black wings pushed my head 'til I saw the gate.
Hope swung at my roots freeing my feet from their hate.
"I believe you have many apologies to make."
I nodded my head and the gate opened.
The crow continued, "The right choices often take
an ax to your tree, to your roots. With hope and
desire to change, you can grow something new."
I stepped into the world beyond the fence and away the crow flew.
Dec 24, 2019
Dec 24, 2019 at 11:28 AM UTC
(for my brother, Martin)
I have sown the moon in the sky for you
so every night its there for you to see
I have stopped every clock from ticking time away
I have turned the tides back from the shore
I have stopped your world in blue belled Spring
and locked my in the falling leaves of Autumn
So now you can rewind the moments of the world
You can go back, to that one moment of choice
and never find the hose, nor set the engine deadly running
nor send those texts of fond farewells, to friends who looked away
nor write to me with love a comfort letter
for the dreadful loss.
No!
Just you:
the tufted, still blonde cowlick sticking up
the crinkled nose and cheeky smile
those sea blue eyes to drown in
strong brown arms, muscles flexed and toned
wrapped tight around me warm
and alive.
© M.L.Emmett
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 12:15 PM UTC
we made a terrible mistake
standing under a mad mistletoe
while we kissed
the ceiling turned to metal heaven
boiling
your teeth gleamed like needles
your mouth like dark jam
your eyeballs went white
like empty bottles
your lips turned to knives
my throat your Jello
your embrace was steal
crushing
your **** set my pants on fire
your saliva melted my lips
my tongue was chewed
my legs trembled and flexed
my hands turned to fluttering birds
my feet where scorched
as if soaked in hot sugar
the floor molten
your *** turned to warm butter
you ripped at my throat
i was dissolving
a man at dis-juncture with himself
there is only you
oh thank god for mad mistletoe
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 1:14 PM UTC