"intoxicates" poems
O MY LOVE, COME WITH ME,
LET’S CLIMB THE MANGO TREE,
ITS GOLDEN FRUITS ARE RIPE,
FULL OF SWEET MEMORY,
LET ME LIFT YOU GENTLY,
TILL YOUR HANDS GET A HOLD,
THIS WARM ZEPHYR HAS MADE ME,
SO STRONG AND SO BOLD,
LET US CLIMB WITHOUT SCRATCHING
YOUR FLAWLESS IVORY SKIN,
MY LOVE WILL GUIDE YOU THROUGH
BRANCHES THICK AND THIN,
YOUR RAVEN HAIR CASCADING ON
TO YOUR NECK SO SLENDER,
SHINY NEW LEAVES OF THE MANGO,
SO DELICATE, AND SO TENDER,
SIT CLOSE TO ME ON A LOFTY BRANCH
TO HEAR THE SOULFUL KOEL SING,
LET'S SWAY WITH THE BREEZE
LIKE SOULS ON A SILKEN STRING,
MY HEAD ON YOUR SHOULDER
YOUR LOVELY FACE SO CLOSE,
SUN BEAMS DANCE ON YOUR LASHES
MY PRECIOUS VELVET ROSE,
YOUR FRAIL HANDS ENCIRCLE ME
LIKE CREEPERS HUGGING THE BOUGH,
YOUR WARM EMBRACE ENTHRALLS ME
TO KISS YOUR SHAPELY BROW,
YOUR SWEET FRAGRANCE INTOXICATES
AND AMONG THE CLOUDS I FLOAT,
LIKE A BUTTERFLY EMERGING FROM
A CATERPILLAR’S UGLY COAT,
WE SIT THERE FOR A LONG TIME
SUSPENDED IN SPACE,
I AM BUT A CONTENT SLAVE
TO YOUR HEAVENLY GRACE
LET MY LIPS LINGER ON
YOUR SOFT PETALS SOME MORE,
TILL I ETCH IN MY MIND,
EVERY BIT OF YOU TO THE CORE,
OH MANGO TREE WE NESTLE
IN YOUR MASSIVE ARMS,
LOST IN THE MYRIAD MISTS
OF ONE ANOTHERS CHARMS,
WHEN OUR YEARS ARE GONE ONE DAY
WHEN WE ARE AGED AND SPENT,
UNDER THIS GREAT MANGO TREE,
WE SHALL PITCH OUR FINAL TENT,
UNDER ITS VAST CANOPY WE SHALL LIE
LOOKING AT THE STARS,
OUR BONY FINGERS ACHING YET
TENDING TO OUR SCARS,
MY MIND’S EYE SEES YOUR WRINKLED FACE
SMOOTH WITH AN INNER GLOW,
SOFT AND BEAUTIFUL AS EVER IT WAS,
AND YOUR LOVELY DARK HAIR FLOW
YOUR FLESH AGAINST MINE
FEELS JUST AS YOUNG AND WARM,
OUR HEART BEATS MERGE
LIKE BEES FLYING IN THE SWARM
COLD TOMBS ARE NOT FOR US
NEITHER MARBLE NOR GRANITE,
UNDER THE LIVING MANGO TREE
FOREVER WE SHALL UNITE
OH MY LOVE, COME WITH ME,
LET’S CLIMB THE MANGO TREE,
YOU ARE LIKE ITS GOLDEN FRUIT,
AND FOREVER YOU WILL BE.
Dec 26, 2011
Dec 26, 2011 at 2:29 AM UTC
Is it your face
that adorns the garden?
Is it your fragrance
that intoxicates this garden?
Is it your spirit
that has made this brook
a river of wine?
Hundreds have looked for you
and died searching
in this garden
where you hide behind the scenes.
But this pain is not for those
who come as lovers.
You are easy to find here.
You are in the breeze
and in this river of wine.
15.8k
Your serene lips could liquefy petals of a rose
With twigs on your spine
Consuming my dreams as you lure me
Stretching as the stars shine
Tangled in the ocean breeze
Beyond beautiful you steal my soul
Our hands unify in the shade of the unknown
Tonight we step beneath the flesh
As the path of dust disappears
I want to drink from your collar bone
Every crevice I will endear
Following the maze of your fantasy
Impeccable skin inviting me in
The anticipation intoxicates my desires
As I travel your outline I stiffen for you
Eager to gratify the valley of your liquid pearls
You whimper as I dissolve your engorged delicacy
As you spasm and tremble you ignite the evening air
A Magnetic exuberance of fervor swept over me
Our swollen, lustful lips surrender again
As your majestic heart nurtures our love
I famine to have your tongue renew me
Your quivering hands beginning to stimulate me
You brush against my hardness lightly
I stir inside my stomach
Restless and blazing I await
Teasing the tip my luster rises
As your manhood swims inside my mouth
You swell my peaks, passionate yet tender
You linger feeling my need
Slipping into your enticing throat
My fingers clutching your hips
Connecting with my core as I absorb you
I quiver and cry out loud
With handfuls of starlight and luster
We create a haven just for us
You enter me so carefully
As we wither and blend
Our flesh is stamped together
A serene ambiance is swaying with us
As you whisper and writhe beneath me
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 11:08 AM UTC
I have problems.
I can't sleep at night and,
no one's really ever here for me.
Or at least it feels that way.
I mean, isn't that right? In the end it's just you.
Doesn't matter how many friends you tend to cling to,
Because the waves of reality are always shifting,
No matter what the tendency.
My parents ignore me,
and my friends avoid me,
Am I really the only one who feels this way?
It's as if I have to strain to sleep now a days.
Because so many problems stray in my mind,
I wish I could somehow change the time.
But that's not my choice,
I've been placed here inevitably,
The space I have to breathe intoxicates me.
I'm so sick of being here most days.
I dream rather often about running away.
My parents must be blind,
to not realise how stressful the way that act toward me can be.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
I abandon the path and mark my visit
deep into natures greens and hidden groves
how the beauty of everything intoxicates me,
and consuming it all leaves me only with no sense:
speechless and bewildered, like a baby.
words seem but a lost cause to me ;
it is almost as if the ferns and its charms
don’t want to be spoken of –
not even a praise.
upon astray land I leave my trail
up the thick pine hill, down the lonesome glen
I sit desperately, in search of only half a word –
it makes no difference at all.
a hint, a hum of frigid air
deep twilight falls upon me like a star
and I fall with it into my own silence.
the hypnotizing haunt of crickets in unseen places
numbs me, almost becomes me
and I become them, like everything becomes
the other thing that lives in its own way.
and just hearing the wise creek babbling,
the traveling breezes’ secret murmur ;
I know I have been unaware all along.
the poem was never mine to write:
I have only to listen.
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 6:31 PM UTC
He says I'm toxic
But loves me still
Truth is...
You're my poison too
Every brush of our lips intoxicates me
Craving your taste
I'll give into pleasure
Clawing, stroking, licking
Spreading the disease
Toxic girl-
Poisonous boy
Every inch of my body tainted
Racing through my veins
The poison sets in
Truth is baby...
You poison me
Now-
I wanna infect you
Jan 12, 2011
Jan 12, 2011 at 9:17 PM UTC
The kite gets high, stays aloft-
quite some time displaying
enviable dexterity, for fun
do spectacular somersaults as much times
as it could, climbs up in air with a loud swoosh
then look! how the wind gets *****
with her, if she has something
of a skirt, it goes up, up to an
indecent height, she doesn't have
that balance a player at such
heights should have kept always.
Its absurd, all these acrobatics silly kite
displays before the world at high altitudes
with a unholy interest
to show herself more accomplished
than what she really is, could you
pardon that frivolity, because she
has many more colors than clouds.
He admits abashedly that he too was
once in love with her frivolous attractiveness,
but he never could understand a kite;
in spite of the lightness, that makes
it easier to travel heights, has kite a significance?
After all what is a kite? her merit?
a strange arrangement that defies
common sense, all it can do is aimless flying.
Isn't it a charge serious enough?
even a dry leaf, or a falling feather
can do these acrobatics for a while.
What is the meaning of a kite,
kindly someone notify , if it has any,
meaningless flying is not for anything
of substance, what kind of play
is it, if it is perceived as one, by any one
why the folly of someone take us
for a ride all these years, without
a second thought, he wonders
who might have promoted it, had some
ulterior motive, some point to prove;
wind, mightiest of forces is made to look weak
in everyday life .
He would suspect, in the bargain many
generations too spent their time
in this vein pursuit without any thought.
Any kite display a greed to go up and
stay there, till the time it is possible to float
don't want to be back, when wind is on her side
unless force is applied, what does it signify?
Kite has a hunger to touch wonder with its fingers
he knows, and he can't but appreciate it
and when the occasion arises she fly up to the cloud,
play with him as if he is her secret lover, that hurts
could such a liaisons are to be be tolerated
she knows how a cloud tastes at different times
Yes, sky certainly intoxicates her,
she want to move closer, doesn't it spell danger?
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 1:09 PM UTC
*I welcome the breeze
From the distant land
Brings fresh happiness
Lifts the veil of doubt
Reveals the inner beauty
Many rich aromas unknown
Intoxicates the senses
Travels through unknown corridors
Not even the corners spared
Soul breezes along with pleasure
Some unknown music notes
Hits the heart with marvelous grace
Intermingling of two waves
Brings harmony and peace
I welcome the breeze
As I surrender to the weightlessness
My soul feels loved and joyous
Tears of joy mingles as sweet droplets
Floating with the sweet breeze
Fresh breeze from afar
To which I surrender at will*
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 2:14 PM UTC
Eyes open
Upon the silent abode
Marvel at me
The heavens echoed
Predicaments dissolve into the trivial
The mind is spotless
You forget the greed, the hate
You remember only the love which intoxicates
Their watchful eyes
Shining upon us since antiquity
Embedded into the skies
An ever lasting source of serenity
Their melody decipherable to wanderers
Providing solace to the adrift
A message from our ancestors
Whispering that clear will be the mist
Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 10:57 AM UTC
Spanish
La princesita hipsipilo, la vibrátil filigrana,
—Princesita ojos turquesas esculpida en porcelana—
Llamó una noche a mi puerta con sus manitas de lis.
Vibró el cristal de su voz como una flauta galana.
—Yo sé que tu vida es gris.
Yo tengo el alma de rosa, frescuras de flor temprana,
Vengo de un bello país
A ser tu musa y tu hermana!—
Un abrazo de alabastro…luego en el clavel sonoro
De su boca, miel suavísima; nube de perfume y oro
La pomposa cabellera me inundó como un diluvio.
O miel, frescuras, perfumes!…Súbito el sueño, la sombra
Que embriaga..Y, cuando despierto, el sol que alumbra en mi alfombra
Un falso rubí muy rojo y un falso rizo muy rubio!
English
The amazonian little princess, a vibratile filagree,
—Turquoise eyes sculpted of porcelain, little princess—
Called one night at my door with her small hands of iris.
And the trilling crystal of her voice was like an elegant flute:
—I know your life is gray.
I have the soul of a rose, the dew of budding flowers,
I come from a beautiful country
To be your sister and muse!—.
An arm of alabaster…then, in the sonorous carnation
Of her mouth, softest honey; in a cloud of gold and perfume
She surrounded me, brash horsewoman, like a deluge.
Oh honey, freshness, perfumer!…The sudden dream, the shadow
Which intoxicates…and when I wake, the sun that falls on my carpet
In a false ruby very red, and a false ringlet very blond.
3.6k
Take a whiff of your death
As you spritz the liquid over your skin
The liquid that seeps in
You're not going to win
It intoxicates your idle mind
You'll do things you've never done
As it slowly eats into your bloodstream
You should never cross me
This little present will help me presently
Bringing your death to the present
As you collapse on the floor
Dead and reeking of regret
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 9:52 AM UTC
Some say
Love is a temptress;
Luring prey into its trap,
Set so innocently
So that victims
Walk blindly into it.
Some say
Love is a trickster,
Cunning and deceitful;
That it intoxicates the soul
And hides the truth.
Some say that it
Kidnaps them,
Brainwashes them,
And leaves nothing but pain
And suffering.
I say
Love is the chance
That no one takes,
The dream
That all fear,
The ambition
That no one feels worthy of.
I say
Love is the soul;
So afraid of death
That it never learns to
Live.
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 3:52 PM UTC
it's 3 a.m. and i'm wide awake.
i've got a war in my head.
yes, our love is present,
but he is not present in our bed.
my heart has been crying for hours.
i hear it screaming for his sweet love.
i cradle it gently in my arms as i weep:
"he has given us more than enough."
but truth be told, enough is never enough,
just the scent of his skin intoxicates me.
i am cold as ice deep under thick covers,
for only his warmth alone can satisfy me.
it's 4 a.m. and i'm sleepy.
the war in my head has now died.
yes, our love is present,
and soon he too will be present by my side.
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 10:01 PM UTC
High stepping, hard working,
soul stirring, black sister
Risk taker, ball breaker,
ends meat maker,
black sister
Always fixing, modeling,
leading, never contradicting,
black sister
Sparkles like Champagne
she intoxicates many men
Her search for true
freedom keeps her sane,
black sister
Special in every way not
given credit by society
But she will have her day
I am proud to be a
black sister
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 5:37 PM UTC
When the Lady calls
Darkness is sure to fall
Like tears on a coffin
She calls all too often
She'll beckon for you softly
Smile at you broadly
She sings oh so sweetly
Lady Death has come to meet me.
She wears her hair like a veil
with skin so soft and pale
Her physique; dainty and frail
Take heed of the bleakness,
Don't you dare assume the weakness
Of her seductive melody
the pitch intoxicates me.
Her kiss will steal your breath
beware the embrace of Lady Death.
Her eyes are a piercing blue
And they will pierce straight on through
the scraps that are left of you.
She lays beside me every night,
caresses me until the light
shines bright, in the early morning;
when she leaves me in mourning-
cloudy thoughts, demons scorning.
Lady Death is drawing near,
She whispers nothings in my ear.
She pulls me towards the hereafter
with charming words and soft laughter.
She comes for me in the moonlight,
bringing me comfort in the night.
Yet her heart is black as coal
She comes only for my soul,
To drag me in to the dark.
I fear soon I may embark
on the last adventure,
when it all becomes a blur,
when the light fades away
and I've reached my final day.
You can have my heart, Ms. Reaper;
We'll roam together, Soul keeper.
For the noose beckons every day,
Darkness is pulling me away.
Come ****** me up in my slumber;
Only you can disencumber
me of my eternal sorrow,
I want your kiss on the morrow.
My heart burns with desire
and Lady Death lit the fire.
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 5:36 PM UTC
Intense passion
Ignites burning desire
Reveling in the transformation
As two entities melt into one
There is no duality anymore
Devouring all the potion
This intoxicates beyond senses
Opening up to each other’s world
As all the shackles have been broken
One world, one territory, one passion
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 6:48 AM UTC
the silhouette of two girls kissing
deep into the caress
deep into the tender
like they are plundering with feather light touches
in the flickering lamplight
the music drips through the dark room
like the leaking of bobby dylans mind
his voice torn asunder with spoken tears
with the gravel of a thousand hard roads alone in the heat
of an unforgiving sun
the girls are wrapped tight to eachother
like bubble gum wrapped in satin
you cant cast aside such delicate force of nature
it will saunter down and ask so sweetly
for you to take a powder while the girls get nasty
i sit on the hood of her buick
primer grey and fast
as fast as thick blood
and watch the stars dance on the chrome
and breath the thick air and see death dance on my fingertip
but most of all i see her silhouette leaning down
over me and sweetly asking
for my last breath
put cowboy boots to pavement walkin into the future
dragging the past that she wants
into the motel of the sun with its neon moon
where these two lover girls lay out by the pool
and soak up the sun till the world is in darkness
soak up the love like cherry soda
and plunder
the dance slow on the bed
while i'm curled on the carpet
but there's no desperation to be found
except in poor bobby dylan as he drips
like fine wine from the speaker
and intoxicates my dreams
with her eyes
with her thin bright wet lips
and her softly sweetly asking once more
to give it up honey buns
gimmie your last breath
silhouette of two girls french kissing plundering tender
so romantic
so loving
so long bye bye
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 9:39 PM UTC
the polished hand of admirers heralding a new poem
they have come so often to rub their eyes on your ink-stained page
leaving behind papercuts of emotion with which they grieve
for the words you spread on their sweaty palms
the polished hand of admirers...
wet with anticipation of the latest beachside laughing clown
he is a walking breathing cataclysm written for her comforts
written in adoration's delight and true loves of her tender hand
she lay in amongst your pages on the bedspread
like a spilled wine **** to the tongue of sensibility
like a spilled wine that intoxicates and leaves
watch her swaying hips fade away into darkness
she will bounce and glide on another man's stripper pole
if you fail to call her back...
the polished hand of admirers heralding your waking thought
muted cheers as your pen makes wicked strokes on empty page
like a dancing blade carving your wooden words
till they sing like beauties breath on cold still air
till she is your warmth wrapped so delicately in your twisted bedsheets
she mutters a cough as she puts flame to cigarette
and smiles at your attentions
she is a living poem
that you write ink and page
the polished hand of admirers will never see
how pure simple ***** girl is so intoxicating
how lush and enticing her gyrating beneath you really is
the polished hand of admirers like you go to bed and sleep
while your dreams are of her dancing swift and sweet
theirs are the dreams of pens cutting on page
like a dancing blade carving wooden words
© 2016 mark john junor all rights reserved
Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 1:39 PM UTC
Southwestern Dis-United States of Memory
Piñon smoke and sagebrush, voice of New Mexico night driving into an Arizona dawn rising over dreaming pueblos, low-ridden plazas, kivas and ruined cities’ rubble traced and highlighted by sunlight, Anglo angling into Aztec toward Zuni over arid zones… A to Z to El Dorado; a voice covers the high hills with a dusting of snow—every word hangs in the notes of the song: music to fall apart to, breakdown to, hurling the soul into the bottomless well of psychotic nostalgia: música de cavanga, falling into the depths. Melody pushing to the threshold of a bar and leaving you there with cash in your pocket and no ride home. The warmth inside beckons—you step across as the song fills, swells, intoxicates, then excavates the wall of the dam until it collapses. The fatal mistake: you read too much into the lyrics of shallow love songs. The deathwish beast of despair arises, the flooded plains dazzle your eyes, the Indian girl smiles on the rim of the grand canyon, the tattooed cholo pulls a knife in the trailer park, the dark waters under the bridge murmur and surge with regret; el río de Las Animas, Durango CO, Aztec calligraphy on the wall: Las Cruces, NM; Clifton, Morenci, Globe, AZ: stepped pyramids of copper tailings, gang-warred walls in fallen barrios covered in Chicano hieroglyphics, the ruined huts of shepherds and cowboys, pit-house dwellings’ flaked arrowheads and pottery fragments scattered forever in the coyote laugh of desert dusk. Crepuscular colors on the names of mountain ranges: Santa Catalina, Sangre de Cristo, Sandia, each one a separate sunset delirium—then you ride through the night to the city of palm trees and the orange-lined boulevards of Heaven.
The singer herself grew old but her YouTubes live forever.
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 9:37 PM UTC
It's the way it creeps into your brain
and intoxicates your thoughts
and triggers unwanted emotions
and inhibits your every move
leaving you paralyzed from
the neck down.
And there's nothing you can do
except take the red or blue pill --
a temporary solution to
a lifelong illness
that will stop at nothing to
devour all the good inside you.
I just wish it would stop
and allow me to breathe
and keep my chest from feeling
as if a thousand needles are lodged inside.
That's my small request.
Why can't I have that?
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 2:39 AM UTC
Where desire is an endless distance...
'He sleeps...I steal his brush,
Dip it red and wet,
Painting on his chest;
A mosaic of Love
My heart's mirror;
I carry him
Beneath my breast,
His Love
The first and last
Of my awakening heart'...
Writing him...
It was the softness of his hand
That held my breath against my will
Nestling in the curve of my arm;
My heart fluttered in his warm smile
As the mocha of his sight drenched me...
Smiles echoed on the canvas
Of tomorrows, suspended in each
Syllable that flowed like manna from heaven;
My fingers abandoned their hesitancy
Outlining his face,
Memorising...
I faltered;
Breathing in the shimmer of what is real;
His smile whispered a promise,
As his voice echoed my own
In an unwritten poem...
Poetry...
Lily white, she wakes near the night river,
The red mantra of Summer's rain, opens
The rose to shadow;
Cradled in awakened smiles,
The touch of twilight intoxicates visions of fairy-tales,
Like somber hues of unbuttoned fragments...
Heartbeats,
Soaked to the hollow of *******
Tucked in the deep comas of the lotus moon;
Her silver light,
Seamless,
Dreaming silks and milk tender...
A whispered name...
Hands steeped in honey,
Moving slowly through deep-red,
Echoes of dream;
Stillness,
Swallowed,
As hours burn pale candles,
Frozen eternal in spangles and lace...
Her wings wrap his pain in song;
Feather light,
A kiss of sweet enchantment,
Beyond the delicate tick-tock
Of destiny's hourglass;
A verse vertigo
Set free by the bleeding of her pen...
Reflections.....
This soft everlasting kiss
Nourishes the weeping within,
Showering each cold-shadow with warmth;
He sings in my skin,
Where we go in midnight's colours
My body, a pebble on his mountains;
Immersed in an endless sky;
Miracles flourish
Embraced in our endless beginnings.........
Aug 23, 2012
Aug 23, 2012 at 2:12 PM UTC
The strokes,
of my brush,
against the Canvas,
depict the features,
forming the image,
of you,
my Romeo.
Hazel eyes mesmerize me,
revealing the key,
to your soul.
An alluring smile,
intrigues my interest,
dreaming of your lips,
caressing my own.
The view of your form,
exposes your body,
embellished in ******
similar to the gods,
of Greek and Roman antiquity,
intoxicates me.
As I finish,
my masterpiece,
temptation persuades me,
to move towards,
you,
my male model,
to render,
my artistic expression.
You gaze into my eyes,
yearning to taste,
my lips as passion emanates,
from our kiss.
You come closer to me,
removing my blouse,
with your firm hands,
brushing against my torso.
You lower yourself down,
to your knees,
unzipping my paint-splattered jeans,
with your teeth.
After the removal,
of my garments,
you carry me,
into the bedroom,
gently placing,
me upon your bed.
Your breath warms,
my skin,
as you strike,
my exterior,
with the blade of lust,
fiercely thrusting,
in the heat,
of the night.
Our bodies unite,
interweaving our souls,
igniting an intimate explosion,
between ourselves,
consuming our spirits.
A safe haven,
becomes my reality,
as I lay into your arms,
whispering sweet nothings,
to enchant your ears.
I drift into slumber,
resting my head,
upon your chest,
holding your hand,
as my world,
is at peace.
I awake before you,
leaving to create works of art,
write sensual poetry,
reflecting on my thoughts,
of you,
to reveal my admiration,
for you,
my soul-mate,
brought to me,
by the hands of Venus.
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 2:42 PM UTC
The dusk smells like the dank moldy parts of the basement, old and decrepit. The days are short, like lives of butterflies. Only stray cats roam the streets after dusk like men in trench coats looking for your children. This is where the buzz of sports games fights through voices like car accidents, wafting through the air with the liquor that fuels them. The mix of rotting seaweed flesh and burnt cheerios intoxicates the wharf, drunker then the teens in their parent’s basements. Anyone can tell you where every **** store and Tim Hortons lies, where bass and basket ***** echo in the roads of chicken wings and blizzards. ‘Beautiful River’ you are where the hearts are strong as bison and tongues sharper then sabers. Yet among the old eyesores you'll find the hope of a city. It screams through the rusty and cracked windows; negligence made mosaics. Based on a pride that runs deeper then it's waters, the strength of those who reside in this urban Crayola box crown and shine like the tips of the waves cascading past the falls.
and the streets breathed
as crows rose and took the sky
crying in anguish.
Aug 11, 2011
Aug 11, 2011 at 8:24 PM UTC
Wickedness dances like a Chinese dragon
held high on poles by the grinning
It curls its tail and snakes around the minds
of admirers who see beauty in its gaping jaws
Flaccid and incapable, this billowing beast
intoxicates and seduces the frustrated and resentful
It dances in Kirachi, hoodwinks in Bradford,
and slips into the dark places in distracted minds
— this infernal idea more bilious and mephitic
than a komodo’s bite
It dances wildly in the confused thoughts of lost boys
who haven’t noticed its cunning wink
They sway and rock — utterly taken
far more mistaken — until stilled by the slap of death
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 4:10 PM UTC
As I searched for an escapeOut of a path of oldDestiny Stumbled Me Back Onto a new path of goldAs follow the yellow brickDown the spiraling wayThere are obstacles and peopleThat try to lead me astrayI see you right nowWhere the two roads entwined Smiling Mischievously Having a motive in mindYour presence intoxicates meYour hands making my body like fireMaking me want to lose controlAnd tempting hidden desireBut as I start to wake upI see your true selfIts not another manIts another copy of himselfI abandoned that dark timeLeaving the man I loved thereFor he hurt me greatly Filling my life with despairDon’t fill my head with nonsenseWith Pretty words and hopeThey are just as usefulAs being in a hole without rope.You did good for a whileHaving me go with your deceptionBut now that you have let slip your natureIt has given me a clear new perception.You can not own meThis wild horse will not be tamedAnd if you hate me for thisI walk high unashamedSo I walk past youOn this path of shineCan promise that not again Will our paths entwineSo with my pride kept safeUnder protection and knifeNow I’m ready to beginA fresh new start for my life
Feb 23, 2010
Feb 23, 2010 at 8:41 PM UTC