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Tina Kay Grant Mar 2014
He calls me his hepcat
He likes to feel the way my hair curls near my scalp
And gets straighter at the ends.
As he runs his strong fingers down my head,
He massages my thoughts until love fills my brain.

He says I'm a babe
He likes to sneak his hand around my body
and place it on my stomach so he can feel me breath
Up and down
Softer then an angel's touch.

He whispers I love you
He never says it to loud
He says words as meaningful as those should never be said to loud and
abruptly, only to wake the sleeping monsters that rest in his head.

He watches me write
He watches my process
And with his eyes on my soul, I've never written a bad poem.

I can't get enough
Of his muscular arms
His beautiful face
And his pretty song.

I love it when he brings me to his shows
He takes me down to the local dive-bars in his red Chevy Nova
Oh how I love his red Chevy Nova, it makes me feel like the bad girl, that I've always wanted to be.

He was born bad, tough, and strong
With his hair slicked back, and his leather jacket that his father gave him
He looks like something straight out the 50s. and I love it.
But in bed with me, we are one with the galaxies, holding nothing but love
and each other.
Connor Apr 2015
Years are mixing into decades like tasteless stew
while I sit here in the second floor of a double decker bus affiliated with universal energies that haven't been given names, and gods which haven't yet been killed over.
Sudden Spring makes me sentimental!  I daydream with my eyes shut and sunlight repeatedly washing over my face that Im racing on some enchanted eastern express en route to Benares while Lama peak Nepal is weakened with Earthquakes. Fallen monestaries still romanticized and newly forged in my mind. A few countries North, the radical religious groups are continuing the impractical path of world decay with frequent threats and televized beheadings.  We're guaranteeing ourselves a real apocalypse to save ourselves from a fake one!

Owls in suits recently drycleaned return home,  their bedroom drapes appear ethereal veils of cruelly false night-brides twirling from wind beating fiercely at the door. Next morning the
Hong Kong tram serrates the neon
acid streets where blankface ghosts are observing the hundred thousand faded shoes and wirey laces encircling the larger paths of Chinese cities like a hollow caffeinated sterile ball of yarn thrown over by the communist Cheshire cat. Bluehue sad sickness is the largest global airborne infection we all have to worry about!

Many Summers later, Debt and debt collectors are equal hell,
I'm home and showering off the society sweat and mutual bruises of some mundane corporate copy job where I copy and jab and jib and bob my head outta the sea of slate jaws and somber smiles. Everything has become a bore! The year is 2045 I'm growing gray and I feel like it, the world feels like it, too. Why did I let go of the poems? The rebel heroes in the 1960s who fought off nuclear holocaust with rhyme and meter?
We could really use that now!
Whatever happened to the soul of India budding in my veins and making me stiff with insatiable wanderlust? My prescription needs to be renewed and my passport expired two years ago. Nobody but the dead travel anymore and they aren't getting to their destination by plane. Those greenhouse gases really ****** us for good! All the aircrafts are now modern art and all my dreams are hidden in hypothetical fallout shelters crossing their fingers they survive before the generators power down on them.

Those past inspired goals faint and lifeless carried by anchors to underwater trenches. Back when my hair was down and long. Dandelions were polished in rainwater outside Vietnam Hostels encased in zipper basket backpacks on stock with incense,  teardrop ecstasy stains and cantinas filled on liquid dharma platinum with the zen seal bottlecap. Well off they go! hearts of an aspiring mahasattva sticking to the back ends of sticker stapled scooters gliding
down to the outdoor booths in Saigon.
As was expected, even the scooters were left to fizzle away in the cyclic guyas once all oil tapped out when I was 37.

Sedative Queens have tightened their authority on all of us and I'm sleepy in the wholes of days where thoughts barely catch wind off the finish line. Nobody is a firecracker anymore. Radios no longer work in closets!
I heard they used to. Radios worked anywhere.
All sound is dead. The angry ghost of an eighteen year old watches out his  kitchen window observing the approaching storm and listening to The Velvet Underground feeling like the world is gonna conflegrate to rock & rubble from the creamy ******* skies ready to drown us out.

Hepcat hideous mangled in gradual oppression diseases!
***** teen hormoned out of homosexuality, I thought we'd gotten past that ignorant belief!
Animal axed in syringe oblivion muscles tense then loose, consciousness BLANK.
Ozone overdosed on air miles and morning commutes, they said it would never happen!
Happiness hung on air, we've been told that our experiences depend on how we choose to perceive them, so maybe all this worldly wack has been my fault!
Dragons exist behind snowy beards contrast to a blood red tie sitting up on Senate! Why'd we been told they're make belief? They're burning everything down!

It feels like Summer no matter what season it is these days. Those Alaskans sure work a good tan!

All in all, years are mixing into decades like tasteless stew,

And we're running low on bowls.
At last I have gotten to know her
Witness her smile and moves
Like a gorgeous prickly flower
Eternally blossoms and blooms

The day I shall never forget
How can I dare to ever regret
The summer day I first saw
The hepcat goddess of love

People say seven wonders
But to me there’s just one
Hair curved like a black rose
With eyes, to **** and die for

Where you go the sun will follow
The Devine mockery of every art
You are what oil can never show
Words that no pen can ever carve

I see your face within every drop of rain
I feel your touch with my every heartbeat
Smell of your curly hair will forever remain
Enchanted in my mind the day we meet

Enslaved by the simplicity of your smile Expression so pure and still so elegant
My heart racing, as if I was on a trial
l've never seen a creature so delicate

You are the poetry at it’s finest form
Your breath is like the summer wind
The wildest ocean that will never calm
The one even Columbus strived to find

What you are will not happen again
I pity all those artists that never saw
That great beauty I came to know
Shape that no man can ever draw

For you even the Troy has fallen
Into ashes and tales it has grown
I envy the people who got to fight
The only good fight that there is

My Hepcat Goddess of Love
The first beam at the sunrise
With a resemblance to none
The fresh miracle of surprise

Remember the summer night
When we walked in the sand
Ohhh what a beautiful sight
Day I got to hold your hand

That tender moment of silence
The depths of your brown eyes
Smell of your sweet fragrance
On Earth you are the paradise

I am forever grateful
To you, the one
Who made me
smile again

There are words I would love to say
But time will tell them day by day
The blue moon arises again
And conceals in the clouds
Words yet need to be said
…..
I am new here, English is not my first language but for some reason I prefer to write in English. Hope you will enjoy 🖤

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