"internality" poems
when you love,
you’re a country,
pierced by daily border
exchanged crossings,
to your closest neighbor
and though,
one rerun~returns home by night,
to your prior defining borderlines,
somehow
the externals of the container has
had its internality's modified
for the lines that prior defined
have altered
by passing the
point of prior,
now by thousands of
tiny holes breaching the
thickened protective lining,
by love punches ‘n kisses of
pinprick punctures
the resistance,
pulverized
<>
you are changed,
new language combos spoken,
embrace another with a
bilingual tonguing,
a real treat
to entreat each other and
that hyphen,
that little tiny
linear
~
punctuation mark is
reflecting your creativity of a
Singular Duality
it is mark that
speaks to a new
U~no individuality,
blended and connected
somehow a duo of
someone’s pulverized lines
forms a single stronger
chord
first a puncture
then a patching
finally
an adhesion pleasuring
and a new working word:
composite
the opposite
of
opposite*
Nov 14, 2024
Nov 14, 2024 at 7:26 AM UTC
Her hands lay gently joined,
her breathing breaching the fortress of a bedroom’s silence
clasped as one, in the very early morn,
her fingers move in motion, wavering, *********
recalling a violin instrument, an unseen youthful memory,
her internality rumbles with a quiet litany,
an indecipherable host of jumbled mumbles,
a cacophony accompaniment to her quietude of steady breathing
I,
study her, as I have done so many mornings prior,
once more, capriciously slipping back inside/beside our bed,
to restart My Sunday morning quiet-like, for as is my wont,
have awoken with the morning dark, treading room to room,
filling my Winslow Homer’s Macintosh mug, with 19.7 fluid oz. of Jamaican beans freshly ground, an instigating odor, a fragrancy
most contradictory, soothing, nonetheless, a steadying, yet a
blaring wake-up call
She, clad my in-her new festive plaid pajama top,
a creamy fabric that begs for my I-dare-not stroke,
is easy prone and that,
pleases me, for I wish to bed beside her, letting her rest
till her mind texts her body, no more! or the mumbles grow
grow nagging onerous and stirring and when her disposition is
well-disposed, she stirs too,
after her fashion
with a dancer’s grace, her arm slowly rises, resting airborne,
fingers arrayed, splayed and Balanchine arranged, (1)
pointing upwards,
lingering until
the arm falls impromptu, sudden,
as a crescendo striking an apex,
her risen hip-mound,
imitating a bell’s clapper woke reverb,
and she sleeps no more…
<>
Sun Jan 15 2022
in the wee daylight hours
Jan 28, 2023
Jan 28, 2023 at 10:35 PM UTC
not as comforted by the absence of shore
as i was before, when i prayed for the shell to close
now i stare into the sun waiting for doors to show
i cradle all my blemishes, the flower, grip the thorns
rabbits are telling me its time to go yet my internality remains reposed
comforted by the thought of piercing arrows
comforted by the sweet monsters voice
haven’t felt in so long, a zoo animals futile joy
Jun 14, 2023
Jun 14, 2023 at 9:59 AM UTC
my soul yearns for you to fuse us one ultimate force of darkness,
my heart craves for you
to crush and to break me
over and over again
I truly crave pain and misery
I don't ever wanna shed an tear only wanna shed blood
so come to me and let's begin our twisted and wicked love that no one else will ever understand we are two demonic souls that has crossed paths and now we shall be as one for all internality and that makes me an bit happy.
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 4:01 PM UTC
My lips sink into their tubular cavern
crunch, crunch
Two bites... I take
I scan the concurrent matter that surrounds me, feverishly.
I begin to feel it set in
The drag
The pull
bump, bump
He goes...
"No, no, no" I hear my psyche mutter... I resist.
But my internal efforts, are fruitless.
The externality begins to disentegrate.
The internality crashes, wailing, screaming into oneself.
The futile attempts force me to face the inward infinite.
It rips me apart
Shredding every fiber of my being, until I am absolutely nothing.
All that's left, is simple consciousness, floating through the abyss.
Nothing, but my internal hiss, is noted.
I'm alone
I'll always be alone
In this eternal internal "playground"
It's what they reserved
It's what I deserve.
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 12:20 AM UTC
I hunger
For your body
Your external incarnation
Your entity
Yet I know
That beneath your skin
Flows the river
Of all of your
Hopes
Dreams
Disappointments
Experiences
Victories
Heartbreaks
Desires
And
Sufferings
I thirst for your physicality
But I cannot fathom
Your internality
And the alchemistry
That we will forge
If our beings
Ignite
And our souls
Elide
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 12:18 PM UTC