"lookers" poems
Somehow it wasn’t right to cry
for someone who
no one knew—for years
though everyone knew about Lil
She was the crazy burden
of an orphaned family
whose memories rearrange the winter shadows
“Are we dressed right?
Are our faces adequately sad?”
They loved the skinny, happy kid
Loved—the ones who loved her
knew her from “The Old Neighborhood”
Two sisters approach the body
echoed in black and navy
holding each other’s hand
They look down at her—
They look her over
They overlook—“The Old Neighborhood”
of the Lillian they had hoped for—
took care of as a child....
And in the din of last respects
a comment from an older gentleman—
“The Goldrick girls were all such lookers”
So I was her niece
and not from “The Old Neighborhood”
I have memories of my own....
I was rich when Lil brought play money
from Misquamicut
She brought whelks and slipper shells too
My ear cupped close
I first heard the sea
Not as beautiful as I expected
nor as beautiful as I would know
She gave them with love—without telling
where and when that I would go....
Her hands were always cool and sweaty
Always trembling
Always a cigarette
and an argument in the background
From the height of three
and hugging knees
I see her face against the ceiling’s
white—with panic
Her eyes are never with me
I know someone is with her
“The Goldrick girls were all such lookers....”
Beleaguered beauty
Frail, with stiff grace
she glances sideways
Checking for my safety?
“Our names too close! Confused too often!”
I was to know her horror— as I know her sea
...Her laughter, too late for the conversation
a smoky hysteria
that will not share with her eyes
She stumbles backward through her childhood
as if she has mislaid something
She wants to go roller skating
with her sister, eight months pregnant
besieged by diapers
with stew on the back burner
...And Lil wants to go back...
to a time at the Rialto
to the organ’s boogie
to the edge—before
The Depression declared WAR—
on someone who
no one knew
for years!
And is it okay yet?
...to let her sea out of me!
It burns so!
Mar 31, 2017
Mar 31, 2017 at 9:49 PM UTC
The river runs it runs with greed
The fast cash of the lucky
Makes it's way to sea
And poison floats with this poison greed
The will of millions, cry out silently
Because they have no idea
about this poison greed
Nurotoxicity
Poisoning our cities
The doctor tells the single mother
To eat an apple everyday
Which only supplement her daily
Methlyphenidate
Neurotoxicity
And baby was born just few pounds light
The tired mother relieved
Baby swaddled in a sheet
Of polybrominate
Neurotoxicty
But all ends were it began
The conspirers of greed
Don't have to loose a thing
The toxic poisonous sludge doesn't run through their garden greens
Somethings
Fish-y
Or is it all the mercury?
East of the railroad tracks
The man smoking crack
Behind a tree
Now breathing PCB's
From car exhaust and factory
Poor ****** breathes
Neuroxicity
And the lucky on lookers equipped to
Notice such a thing or anything
Watch in disbelief
They should all find relief, the poison is fair
It flows through everybody, everywhere
For nothing makes the people sing
Like a mix ethanol and manganese
Neurotoxicty
Spin round and round and sing
This is called brainwashing
Drink your mix of ethanol and manganese
Watch your team throw the polyethylene
Trickle down, trickle
Your loosing the cells right from your brain
While a doctor writes you a prescription to go insane
After years of manganese and PCB's
Jimmy B is lost in the sea of toxins
But mom knows best
He's a hyper brat
Takes him to the doctor to get him
Correct
Doctor gives Jimmy a prescription
The devil's speed
Dextroamphetamine
Jimmy was focused
Jimmy didn't bother
Jimmys brain a couple grams lighter
The doctor intrigued gets a free meal
To switch Jimmy's speed
Four more Jimmies
Doctor can vacation expenses paid
By the sea
Jimmy keeps on taking his pills
Then over night
Jimmy hits his first pipe
Now that's some ******* good speed
And the story goes
Without relief
The government we know
Deligates neurological slavery
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 4:20 AM UTC
Quiet are the fields
with ghosts
from pennants past
the aces
and cutters
set idly away
from the maple
spread fall
soft sounds
of Sunday
(chilling on the boneyard)
telling tales of
validated stars
and wheel house legends
the rally cap sluggers
with mahogany eyes
Mustard colors
in floating mists
give a hallowed glow
to sublime skies
scattered walkers
trip to the hole
their spit buckets
and spigots
pressed loosely into
pure life form
bikers and loners
and curious coffee goers
mill about the horn
whispering numbers
from an old
Keelman heaving
Alley lookers
and Mendoza lines
screachers, bleachers
from years gone by
dancing fingers
and cracks at the bat
moonshots
(from the big time Timmy Jim)
the 9th inning gunner
with sinker
and slider
and imposing
brush back ballz
the game day citizen
and dugout warrior
who lit it all up
in Rockwell fame
Jan 18, 2017
Jan 18, 2017 at 11:28 PM UTC
They called them selves friends
not just friends but very good friends
but truely they were disconnected
and this was very impossible
to on lookers because they
saw them as friends who
were so close and connected
But they knew as friends
that they were far apart from
each other just like parallel lines
tht would never meet
In a friendship where both
were meant to be active
and supportive so that
their friendship would grow
and blossom for all to see
and for all to admire
It was only one person
that was doing the work
it was only one person that
was being active and
supporting the friendship
Ony one person felt hurt
only one person had to apologize
even though he did nothing wrong
making her seem good and
making him seem bad to on lookers
With time the friendship
stopped growing as it used to
because it was only one person
who felt the need for the friendhip
while the other felt that the frienship
was useless so there was no need trying
and this made the friendship turn out
into being a one sided and an unappreciated friendship
Aug 18, 2017
Aug 18, 2017 at 8:14 AM UTC
*I keep the treasure guarded,
in the fortress of my mind.
Shrouded from on-lookers;
protected from prying eyes.
It is not just an image,
or a photo,
so sublime.
It is a casket full of wonderment;
a jewel of womankind.
It evokes a feeling from me:
Rawness,
un-refined.
And it leads me to a place,
that others would gladly die,
to find.
I am humble in its presence,
and would never question the design,
for the treasure that I hold so dear,
is the thought that you are mine.*
Oct 9, 2010
Oct 9, 2010 at 4:09 AM UTC
He board the train at Newkirk
that was his train; that’s his life
a backpackers hostels retreat
to hell with the rest of us...
**** all the haters
**** all the on- lookers;
that seems to be his street attitudes
he slowly force his way between the passengers
they scattered like crows: the stench was so nauseating
we all held our noses:
but he kept on smiling
to hell with the world
they run the city subway cars
No 2, 3, 4, 5, Q, B
was he half a man for being homeless
I felt empathy,
I felt uneasy
But he kept on smiling;
As he sang love and happiness
One of Al Green famous songs
You be good to me
And he is good to you.
I got off that train with a sense
Of happiness being able to go home
life can be so bittersweet
for the poor unfortunate souls
the love and happiness,
he once shared.
Fade many moons ago
so he kept on singing
“Everybody needs an inspiration
Especially when the nights are so cold
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rqqAnjY2Rmo
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 8:04 AM UTC
If mass ****** of innocent kids Anywhere and everywhere is a picnic,then Our whole life gets lost in a big tunnel of darkness ... There is a crime and there is a punishment anytime ... If justice is not achieved on our earth ,then God's justice is inevitable ... Innocent kids get perished for nothing and We are merely on-lookers only ... We witness that there is something going wrong ,but Nothing will go in vain ...
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 3:11 PM UTC
Watch her stand alone
As they beat her to the ground
As they force her head under
As they force her to drown
Watch her stand alone
Watch her crumble, fall apart
Watch her climb her way back up
Fingers bleeding and covered in scars
Watch her stand alone
Watch her struggle to breathe as broken bones force their way into her lungs and the blood in her eyes makes it harder to see
Watch her stand alone as on lookers point and stare at her disfigured face and her shattered soul-like-grace that's changed her into someone she's never wanted to be
Watch her stand alone
As years of torture claim their place upon the only heart she's ever known sitting slightly to the right of where its home should be
Watch her stand alone
Then watch her rebuild and grow
Watch her turn into a beautiful fighter who's smile burns brighter than any you have ever known
Watch her stand alone
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 7:36 PM UTC
And a rib was pulled from a side,
Soon was molded to be his Lover:
Tiny whispers calling beautiful bride,
Now with my hand so soft and bare,
I tend to land, _'these grounds of heart.'_
Lay down my eyes, hoping now to see,
The widest eyes, lookers of everything:
_'O, stop looking for perfect fish of the Sea'_
Rubbing salt in a wound, that won't heal.
All we are; are two skies far apart,
Longing to be one being and in flesh,
A piece self trading into your heart:
_Love was first made, we came second._
Children all of our Adam and Eve,
The seeds of a garden forgotten:
But even as I don't see my paradise,
Darling you'll always be my _Eden._
Oct 25, 2021
Oct 25, 2021 at 4:49 PM UTC
That dark patterned line
crossing straight the moon,
centering the frozen sphere-gate
of a misty autumn night-sky,
is not a cloud to sink down on only
and float subtly for a while
< so I can feel the aura of your skin mixing with the mine >
but it is also a five line staff
and tells me an aurally perceived absolute secret so that ,
through my hearing ,
you will
rise,
glide,
twirl
and cross
other lines,
tune my gaze
and engrave a mystic score beyond your shine,
plant each of ‘you’s,
note by note,
in ones, halves, fourths, eighths , sixteenths and ‘pi’s
in the heart of each
<beyond the clouds away from my reach>
twinkling star
so that anyone that could look up with a heart,
<maybe on a clear night sky>
would see a commencing song-
singing the dance of an ever weaving light-story
visible to those eyes with a knowing only that
<the knowing about a wish is
a wish that shall eternally be kept a secret>
has the enlightening technology to recreate a reflecting galaxy
with an authentic memory
that expands infinitesimally
<which we in our terms would say it expands by love
but in truth would not really know how
unless the terms are lost and we have got no time except to > - be now-
be now
be now with me now
and now and only now
be now and with me now
and only now and now
Would you come and meet me then?
there?
but I don’t know where… just there?
wherever all these sky lookers are
and be one of them, again ? as we did once– on a terrace
one summer night, we watched our own story under stars, among crowds while I asked for your light and you kissed me awake for eternity and so
would you let me kiss you this time - one more time
just for the last time and forget that eternity eternally this time?
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 11:37 AM UTC
The carousing carnival can never sleep
It bares and bewilders in the brain
Sunrise and sunset, season of sorcery,
Hell or heaven, havoc never happens.
The carousing Carnival cages ponderers
Under Ornate oaks too old
Dressing, dancing, dwelling in Graceland
Hula Hoops hover on hips
Fire fetched by fingers flared.
Lookers: love and lose the lot.
The crafty carnival's cunning tricks
Never need a nest to rest.
Sep 13, 2011
Sep 13, 2011 at 1:08 AM UTC
We paint our lives on color film
Absorbing familiar reflection
And we watch as we live
So little in color film
We love, we ****
We bleed, we die
Do we think God is watching?
Do we think we are the reflection
Why are we watching?
Mountain sides and Lilly beds
Prairies and the mighty ocean
Now held in our hands
Nobody is there
Is anyone here
What is everyone watching?
Loneliness painted in window sills
Plasma radiation gleams on
White, pictureless walls
Millions
Watching sunsets
And passions flame
Lust pervert
Warm golden skin
Radiates tangerine
And the lonely feel
Vicarity
Painting red
On Blank slates
And fill with vacant desire
Million of on lookers
Alone, watching
Watching the world burn
Watching mothers cry
Watching beaches sludge
Watching deserts snow
Watching brave children die
Watching brothers betray
Watching love fail
Watching countries fall
Watching debts paid
Millions of miles of tapes and bits
Project a millions of protestant cries
Endlessly, eternally
Do we think God is watching?
Do we think?
While we're watching
Bathing in radiation
Children don't know how to read
Live their lives on
A television screen
A whole generation
Living vicariously
Do we think?
Millions of gray souls
And avid voters
Watch angry men spout nostalgic redirect
Watch their children live their lives
Watch game shows and advertisements
Watch the six o' clock news
Watch police shoot children in the street
A million beautiful, lonely people
Watch red carpet vanity
Watch million dollar celebrity parties
Watch the American dream lash the
Backs of the fuedal and disenfranchised
Watch depraved souls sacrifice self
For the company of fame
Meanwhile children don't read
Do we think?
A thought original
Is there any thing left to believe
Everyone so sure there's nothing they haven't seen
Nobody leaves their house
Nobody can bear to read
Just watch the world slip into insanity
Ignorance is the greatest weapon
Yet all I see is guns blazing
80 billion dollars to dry the desert
Not a one for education
American families gather
Around their TV screens
They can't stop watching
They're afraid of what they see
Do they think God is watching?
I hope God isn't watching
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 5:09 AM UTC
When I am done with my poem today
You might see it.
Well, if you're reading this
then you did see it.
I'm sorry.
As the fingers strike the keys
my mind is sodden.
Vacancies available, as they say.
Anyway, cast your thoughts
to those who will not see this.
Either occasional lookers
or Hello Poetry zealots
may let these pixelated words slip by.
They won't be affected.
But you are.
Now, I'm not expecting to change your life
but maybe I've got you thinking
at this moment,
when already in the past I've finished this
and sat back silently,
wishing the dull pain
of the past's barbs in my mind
away.
You are potentially similar.
Or maybe you already switched away.
****
I forgot again.
I got up to talk to my dad.
I took out the garbage.
Did you stop, leave in the middle of this poem?
It's okay because me too.
You have read this poem,
maybe considered it.
I am almost done.
I'm not sure how this is going to end.
I guess I'll just put out my poem now
for people to find and to not find.
But remember
that the small stuff
from insignificant sources
feels for you.
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 8:03 PM UTC
I'm getting married soon
But as my melancholic mind would have see it,
I still sought to seek out the hidden gems I blindly ignored;
When you were part of a piece of a paragraph in a long
neglected yet beautiful chapter of my life.
In an attempt to expose the very nature of my soul and body,
you saw my distress and healed me back to a semi-moderate stable condition of what was once my self.
On long drives, we sang loudly, and unfortunately proudly, about our tragic love life before we were to discover our secret affair within each other.
Desperately seeking answers, we found comfort in the solitude amongst ourselves.
In one of many drives, you even flashed your *** onto confused on lookers, which would be the main topic on our relationship.
No, not your *** but exposure.
We exposed our souls to each other, mentally and very physically.
Trusting and knowing we would know what's to come was somehow comforting.
The end was nearing but we sure did cherish those precious moments, didn't we?
Closing the tiny paragraph you are now part of in my chapter,
it has lead me to one of the biggest events events in my life.
As the day gets closer, I recollect the times where my heart barely breathed any ounce of life I had once.
You gave me the force of life back into my desolate self and my soon to be husband is forever grateful.
Each piece of what was, prowls every now and then
But that's the human in us; We travel back in time just to observe and adore.
So......let's move along, reminisce, and once in a while, hold dear to our past selves.
Aug 10, 2021
Aug 10, 2021 at 5:02 AM UTC
I imagine a fighting arena
Huge and closed.
In one cornered space
Tower Hegemonic Forces
Champions of dominant culture.
In other corners,
Trending,
Waxing,
Waning,
Anxious for their turn
To test their powers
Crouch the Up and Comers,
Ever-hungry crowds of Up and Comers.
Traction is slippery
On this tenuous battlefield;
Spittle and catarrh;
Blood, sweat, tears;
**** and *****
Fluid proof of bodies
Denied a single humanity,
Mingle to confound
Desperate din of strugglers,
Seeking clear divisions to conquer.
On-lookers, deafened in cacophony,
Cannot see the uselessness.
Careful observers
Can but surmise what the prize
Desired might be,
But always there is the struggle.
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 8:12 PM UTC
Chicks Galore
Now you know they are everywhere lookers everyone all shapes sizes anything you need can be found
If you’re sad or glad there to be found some have inward grace that speaks with such silent power
They are the topic of every conversation practically when males congregate this will be what resounds
Did you see her did you hear what she did oh the scandal tell me more I won’t tell a soul
The old swimming pool remember the one who tanned so dark she was close to ebony
Or the time we filled two rows of seats at the Roseland girls and boys were there we were equal then
Where do they go to school to get so smart you try to talk to them it’s easy for them I always felt phony
They are natural dancers or American band stand sent out private instructions and left us out
They have that charm smooth as honey oh little Bonnie did you hear music when she walked by
Don’t mention gym class we looked like heard of lost dummies while they were endowed with quality
They do complain I can understand we shave and comb they take all the time somehow the results defy
Sparkle and glitz truly give the boys fits well come out let me show this new chrome I had put on duh
I know for myself it was safer when you said chicks you were talking about free ones from the feed store
Easter every child given free chicks little yellow cuties get the box light for warmth clock for comfort
Your job be the mother hen keep their water bottle filled no diapers just give love and nothing more
This is for chicks young and old that still make our hearts race when you look our way happy birthday to
Some R.M
Jan 8, 2012
Jan 8, 2012 at 11:51 PM UTC
Mud icicles
half the cobblestone
and the neon fades and flares
Standing and pressing
muddy hands
against an invisible sphere
eyes shut, mind tranced
then we went wild
and pranced and danced
New powers
to see through the windows
the windows dirt washed off
gather energy
circular seduction
******** eruption
wet air tight suction
Gather round
absorb the new powers
we'll show you the way
Here is my first vision
Cannot beat the cruel summer heat
aching and throbbing
head to feet
enter the insomniacs rusted dream:
death maze, locked door
festered **** wounds
lookers on, rot haze
smell of maggots
and blistered flesh
****** man
Murders men
herded them
like swine to pen
hear another scream again
as you look for God
repent
repent
Clown Laugh
bodies hang
multi-murder
sadistic slaughter
in the stinky circus prison
Awake
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 12:01 PM UTC
He knows he likes her,
But he is not sure he can stand the cyclones around them.
She knows she likes him,
But there are just these obstacles standing in her way.
They know they are in love,
But what do they have to do to be convinced?
Oh! Boy, Oh! Boy
Relationships! , relationships!
Commitments!
Compromises!
Sacrifices!
Attachments!
Support!
Fights!
Confusions!
And most of all.... 'LOVE'
You make me laugh when am not supposed to.
And smile when I dont have to.
You make me happy though I dont know the reason why.
You are the bright blossom of my clouded day.
He is a keeper,
And I hope she keeps him too
She is and Angel
And I hope he becomes hers too.
She hopes for a protecter
And I believe she has found one.
He hopes for a comforter
And I believe he has found one.
Everything is just wild,
With mediators on the side
And on lookers observing.
It is so hard to look at it and ignore,
But I am happy to know that the world around me still carries love.
He knows he loves her,
And I hope she loves him too.
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 2:12 PM UTC
he took off his dress shirt,
tossed away his gold tie,
danced away the whole night
in a white t-shirt
and I couldn't help but smile
at that boy the whole time
all these other formal lookers,
but they're not what i like;
'cause there he is dancing
in a five star restaurant
in nothing but some black slacks
and a wrinkled white t-shirt,
and i know that it's crazy,
but he's the one that i want:
i'm breaking the rules,
and i want to get caught.
[NJ2015] All Rights Reserved
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 7:13 PM UTC
as daylights shine wears thin
and evening is leaning on you heavy
like the engine of time has
forgotten to grease its wheel
your futility fueled smile has lost ground
in the struggle with the grin
of the man wearing a clown suit
he is a rainbow of laughs
he is the face behind the face that
you look into with approaching dread
the obvious winds of encroaching rain
tread briskly past my quiet ear
a motorcycle engine winds up its gears
in the summer like distance
like an echo in this autumn brink of evening
pretence of the storm
a few scattered cool drops of water
fall casual to the hard red surface of the patio
its faded and tattered paint beset with taint
here once sat a small brick wall
its remains scattered amongst the litter
in the overgrown weeds
as the rain begins in earnest
she leads me inside the house
and to a bedroom not used by shooters
the two of us sit in silence and listen to the passing storm
a woman without a word enters and
gathers herself in a corner
outside the window
sunlight creeps back over the world
reveals the man with the clown suit
sitting waiting for you outside the window
he had waited all his life
and he waits still
in his comfort chair
its worn plastic form strains but holds
his heavy thoughts
as the world passes in two's or threes
all the laughing faces
and the desperate lookers eyeing the safe harbour
he had waited all his life
inspite of the noise and garbage
he sits here and plays with the firebox
its heat keeps him from getting
a frozen heart
the three of us
leave the shooters house
making roads for the soothsayers den
only she can settle our earthly delemia
me, her and the clown
full on night gathers around our swift feet
the lights of the carnival
reflected in the puddles left by the last rain
the already stale the water is disturbed by our passing
the air smelled like cotton candy
and is full of noise
the soothsayer is mute
her lips sealed with beeswax
because she is mourning her camera
cause the camera was once her ticket out of town
it was gonna be a one way nonstop to hollywood
but it ended up being hollyweird and it wasn't in california
the four of us head for the interstate
if you cant solve it
run
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 3:08 PM UTC
Alphabetically articulated habitats
For unsophisticated acrobats
Tilt sideways to the beat of the drum
Stuck in a fine daze at the bottom of a bottle of ***
Fast crying circus barkers warn of long winded fortunes
As slant eyed on lookers BOO and gnash there teeth
"Gentle men, Gentle men", the filthy little man cries
"Let me dine with your daughters for just one night
And I promise you eternal fortune"
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 7:05 PM UTC
As the morning songs initiate with singers of feathers,
As the hellish darkness calms with sunrays of answers,
Comes a beautiful new day in the un-urbanized,
The father with his sickle goes on to fetch green to his beloved,
The mother wakes up in devotion and chants mystical speeches
The children wake up with energy of a lifetime
Enough to get them through their carefree lifeline,
The people here are simple not bothered by Mondays,
Nor are they very happy when there are Sundays,
The birds still chirping, the streams still flowing,
Children with their silly little games, above them the sun still glowing,
People from the country are bored, no TV, no network,
The Villagers instruct them to keep their worries aside
And enjoy the organic meal prepared
Enjoy the carefree environment before the troubles reappear
With a sip of water that’s sweeter than life
They carry on their silent relationship with their wife,
Life here is different, time works strange,
Afternoons are silent- could one be deranged!
A spider likes the one seen on TV lurks from the corner,
In the garden a snake, quite venomous is noticed,
The elder with one courageous might sweeps off the snake
The on lookers are awestruck, taken back by his might,
An hour in the afternoon is like an asylum
So Silent, everyone sleeps due to the heat waves,
The sound of chainsaws are heard in the distance,
Could deforestation be marching?
The sound of engines roaring,
Could the corporate be lurking?
To “modify” the landscape and make it more “mainstream”?
They’d destroy the peace here with a showcase of their money,
Deploying clouds of steel over what was once sunny!
The shining orb of the night returns after her shift,
The Sun with it’s protruding glamour leaves the scene,
The children scatter from the trees and hurry back home,
The elders with their “doko” full of green currency retreat,
In the end, the silence abrupt the call!
Perhaps, it’s now the Owl’s turn to howl!
A Beautiful Day in Heaven comes to a halt….
A Beautiful Day in Heaven comes to a halt….
Aug 16, 2024
Aug 16, 2024 at 8:40 AM UTC
Sensuality.
Eastern the rhythm as dancing begins.
Practiced fluidity.
Gliding vibration of smooth undulation.
Transparent veils quiver like airy wings.
Bared sensuality.
Stunning production of pulsating pelvis.
Entrancing the swirl of seductive spins.
Twirled spontaneity.
Skirt's silken fringes shake by gyration.
Bangled wrists shiver in twisting rings.
Mounting engagement.
Lookers call loudly stirred by sensation.
Oriental performance an audience wins.
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 11:15 AM UTC
Otis told me about this cool
brand new swanky dance hall place,
said it was full of pretty-lookers
with baby doll faces
not the sleazebag rough
hooker-types, the scary kind.
So I pulled on my best blue jeans,
scooped on a little dab of gel and
checked myself out in the mirror.
I thought, man you look swell,
somebody might say, you're fine
and with those thoughts,
I stepped out
headed on down to the party club,
hoping someone would notice me, too.
I walked on over to the servery,
to sample some dip and savories,
out of the corner of my eye
I saw a pretty little babe,
she sashayed across the dance hall,
to make herself known to me.
In an instant, there was electricity,
we got to talking about how nice,
it would be, to get together
more regularly.
I knew there and then,
we were going to be real close friends,
she oozed class and she had me rapt,
my heart beat climbed high,
like, I'd scored a drop dead gorgeous
piece of sugar pie.
I thought yeah!
She'd be the ideal girl for me.
And she would be,
if she could dance the Watusi
she'd be fine with me.
Well, I'm not one
to beat around the bush,
I cut to the quick,
so I sauntered right up to her
and in my smoothest Southern drawl
asked the lil' darling,
"Sweet Darling would you like
a cup of Chardonnay?"
And she, in the most playful way,
smiled coyly and replied,
"Why Mister, surely I would,
I can't resist a fine wine!"
As we sipped on the wine,
there was a warming glow
between us two, we were starting
to cog, like in sync watches.
I thought to myself, I can play
a part, in her every dream,
my lil' darling and I dancing,
to the beat of a lava stream.
We took to the dance hall floor,
expressing our close body simmer,
the Watusi sounds,
had us all a glimmer.
Then we pulled closer,
the gravity was electric,
a sacred feeling,
I could feel between my hips
and she,
she had a primordial fragrance,
I could smell beneath her
fashionable clothes.
Reasonableness was fading
quickly with the pace,
I held her face
and we fell
into another dimension.
A flow of passion ignited,
there was no containing,
the flare,
our lips burnt with an excited
and intoxicating fervor,
our skin to skin contact,
was like an ember.
Eros, had my sugar pie and I
in mind,
when he wrote the script,
to the sensual Watusi bind.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 8:04 AM UTC
I read a significant amount of poetry each day.
It does not matter if their telling a story, sharing their story or that of a friend.
I don't care if their completely ****** off in their feelings... I get it!
It does not matter if their on earth, another planet or in the skies....
We can be some where and everywhere at the same time.
and
I don't care if their
off the wall,
completely insane,
love stricken,
obsessed in love,
obsessed in hate,
belligerent,
spiritual or sane.
Understand
Most of us, is one, if not all of these things.
I praise the creative minds who is able to bare what infects their souls to a world of judges, strangers and on lookers.
~Butterfly εїз
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 9:00 AM UTC