"millimeter" poems
how do you stop your throat from burning
from salty tear-stained gulps and gasps
for oxygen that is no longer there?
there is too much carbon dioxide in the air now
and i want to fast forward into a world
where i can breathe in sweet helium
and ask for it to stop.
because there are times
when it's impossible to breathe
and when my puffy red eyes
can't open more than a millimeter
because you have glued them shut
with your accusations.
i didn't want to be gas station concrete any longer
i didn't want dirtiness to be my middle name
i only wanted to cleanse myself of you and your fists,
you and your laughter
you and your hatred.
i wanted to be clean.
(a.m.c.)
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 1:08 AM UTC
Glistening golden cells
Geometrically stacked
Decanting crystalline ambrosia
Sweet and sticky
One step from the Sun
Dripping, oozing from on high
From its mathematic matrix
Millimeter by millimeter
Into my mouth
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 2:53 AM UTC
How it felt about when she smiled
Her roses were red wine
Teeth were an iceberg in a cold sea
I didn't know she knew me more than by name
I walked head up to her in a confident laze
She always willed to lay a hand in a steamy time
Whenever she called me by my pet name
I would light up a grin
How I couldn't help her spell
How much I belied of having a way out
The more she drew close, the more I sank in
How she made seduction a white collar trade
The lavish eyes, the lazy talk, the pure feminine mien
She pat on my shoulder and turned to catch a glance
Asked what made her hands a soft pleasure
Whispered that she was schooled in pottery and making dough
I couldn't stop but ask about the flawless curves
She pushed out her lips and said I used to spin a ring at nine
I asked her out for a movie
She said tragedies make her cry
One day I went to look down through my office windowpane
My sight met hers taking down a secret gang
With a fierce nine millimeter gun
I was left speechless in awe
We needed to rethink our revolution
On her mission in Damascus a plane crashed
I still cried a pail.
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 1:56 PM UTC
Hold the universe inside my palms
I alone understand it is but a solitary dream
Between stars I make out memories
Connecting dots, forming images ingrained in my mind
I look in the unfilled depths of sky where suns have yet to burn out, remaining eternally preserved in an explosion of beauty lightyears away wondering about humans peering at their ambience through time and space
This isolated reflection I witness change in compliance with the predetermined path set in motion by the astrological forces of nature
Unstable
My hands must be trembling
Scared of sorrow and frustration they undeniably confront
The fear of the uncertain, the inconsistency of the unapologetic future awaiting
Solemn visions of an imperfect outcome, enough torment to push strength a bit too far over the edge
Fragile balance of peace and chaos resting within cupped desperate hands
Ignorant, the quickness of extinction among synapses in the cavern lighting the entirety of my skull
Pinned under familiar self-induced delusions
Galaxies silently begging for permanent freedom
Such fate to let their wishes dangle ignored
Urges within bursting, released
That moment I also give in
Forcefully close my fingers into a fist
Instantly crushing wild constellations scattered around my consciousness
A great deal more fragile than realized
Once unshakable destiny budged a millimeter by one lone act of rebellion
Against a powerful pull the majority pretend is rigid
Elusive control by way of self-combustion of life's temporary illusions
Proof one touch can fell worlds of fantasy
Founded on fiction
Or maybe
Reality
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 1:29 PM UTC
*You Held Me Tight In Your Arms,
The Night Air Nipping At Our Skin,
Our Breath Clouds Of Warmth,
Mixing Underneath The Stars*
"I Love You," You Said, Your Hands Meandering,
Up And Down My Spine,
Trying To Keep Me Warm,
In The Frosty Octobor Night
*Corn Stalks Gently Grazed Our Jeans,
You Held Me Close,
Perplexing The Lurking Demons,
Warming My Blood,
With Your Lips*
"I Love You Too," I Said Holding Your Shoulders
*You Wrapped Me In Your Arms,
Folding Our Souls Together,
Like An Ormagami Crane,
And You Kissed My Cheek,
Our Frozen Fingers Entwined*
"Don't Ever Leave Me," You Said Lovingly,
As You Burried Your Face Into My Neck,
And Kissed It Lightly
*I Lay My Head On Your Shoulder,
And The Goosebumps On My Skin Faded,
As My Body Enjoyed The Cold*
"I Won't" I Murmered,
*You Stared Into My Eyes,
And Pulled Me Closer,
Our Lips A Millimeter Away,
You Know What I Like*
I Felt Your Breath As You Asked,"What Would You Say If I Asked You To Marry Me?"
*Even Though It Was Only 2 Seconds,
The Space Imbetween That Question,
Felt Like Two Hours,
Honestly I Never Wanted That Moment To End*
"I Would Say Yes, Why?"
*I Could Feel Your Pulse Rise,
And Your Skin Start To Warm*
"Because Someday I'm Going To Ask You, And Give You A Diamond Ring, Almost As Beautiful As You"
*I Smiled
A Reflection To Yours
As We Sat Under
The Yellowish Cresent Moon*
"Then It's A Yes"
*I Laughed
My Annoying Kackly Laugh
The One You Love*
"Can I Kiss You?"
*My Eyebrows Lowered
In Sarcastic Annoyence
But I Giggled*
"Fine"
*As You Kissed Me
I Smiled*
"Please Take My Sweatshirt," You Begged Me
*I Noticed My Shivering Body
The Hairs On My Arms Rose
And My Fingers Felt
As If They Belonged To A Dead Person*
"Okay" I Reluctantly Said
*You Put Your Sweatshirt Over My Shoulders
And As You Cuddled Me Closer
And Kissed My Lips One Last Time
I Opened My Eyes
The Light From The Moon
Streaked Across My Face
Suddenly I Heard You Whisper
Goodnight
As We Stood On My Doorstep
Goodnight I Replied*
Oct 20, 2012
Oct 20, 2012 at 8:17 PM UTC
My Lighthouse Poem
4/4/2014
You make my toes tingle,
I never noticed them before.
You're like my hit single,
in my mind every time I walk out the door,
to start my day.
You brighten my soul
and one touch makes me feel a million different ways.
One more positive than the other,
but each heading in the same right direction,
to you.
I can't wait to trace every single millimeter of your body,
like I am on a treasure hunt.
And all I can find at each spot I come into contact with is golden beauty.
Your words are pure and unadulterated,
like the low sodium soy sauce and fresh ginger with sushi.
Ooo, there's just something in your smile,
and no it's not spinach.
It's a reflection of a happier me,
knowing that I could be with you and be happy.
I'll call you my lighthouse,
and nobody will understand.
They'll think I was a lost ship,
and that you helped me reach the sand.
Really it's because you are a stable structure,
out at an emotional sea in a dark sky night.
Really it is because none of the others compare,
to your special kind of shine bright,
with that light,
that I'm fixated on.
On our first date we played bingo and shuffleboard.
On our second date, sushi and tarot cards.
Who knows what crazy adventures any future dates will be,
but who really cares when they include you and me?
Yeah, that's right, it's enough with just you and me,
my lighthouse.
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 6:27 AM UTC
I am a poor man
sitting on the corner of
Your Conscious
and Your Reality.
All day everyday
I sit in that spot and
beg for change.
But keep your quarters, nickels, dimes
for someone else
'cause all I want is a cup of change.
A cup of change
to water my feeble hope, thorny rose
rooted in concrete hatred.
Roots, like my fingers,
too feeble to hold anything
but this patch of dirt to remind
me, I exist.
ALMS! ALMS! ALMS for the poor of heart!
But keep your quarters, nickels, dimes
for someone else
'cause all I want is a cup of change.
A cup of change
to wash away the muck kicked in my face.
A cup of change
to cleanse the wounds made
by verbal bullets shot out of nine millimeter mouths
wielded carelessly by boys society has deemed as men.
I sit in this spot and fester,
like a dream deferred.
My skin, cracked and brittle
like aged parchment, hangs over my frame
like sheets over antiqued furniture.
I sit in this spot with
arms open wide, heart open wide, eyes open wide
BEGGING FOR CHANGE!
But keep your quarters, nickels, dimes
for someone else
'cause all I want is a cup of change.
A cup of change
to strip the lies and propaganda
from the decrepit facades of your ideas,
storefront workshops left from the age of enlightenment.
My body yearns for nourishment
but I can't afford your lies.
But keep your quarters, nickels, dimes
for someone else
'cause all I want is a cup of change.
Now I'm not asking for a Jesus on Galilee moment,
just a cup of change to feed what's left of my soul.
But who am I to ask for anything?
I am just the poor man
sitting on the corner of
Your Conscious
and Your Reality.
All day everyday
I sit in that spot and
beg for change.
But keep your quarters, nickels, dimes
for someone else
'cause all I want is a cup of change.
Nov 9, 2011
Nov 9, 2011 at 10:54 AM UTC
At night I lay in my bed.
Sometimes, I shut the lights off, and I think.
With my vision impaired, I begin to think and feel more.
I can feel the darkness
It's like a blanket that hugs every millimeter of my body.
It can be a comfort, but at the time time, it makes me want to scream.
As a human, I fear the unknown.
And also as a human, I naturally cannot see in the dark.
When I just lay there, I can feel the darkness hug me in such a way that I feel paralyzed.
I move my eyes around, hoping to see light, to no avail.
My over-active mind likes to fill in the blanks in which my senses cannot.
I see everything that I fear.
Every little thing I have ever spent restless nights worrying about, is there before me.
The clowns, the murderers, the mythical horrors I remember hearing about around the fire years ago.
They're all there.
They don't move, they don't speak.
They just stand there, as I feel the terror build up inside of me.
I want to scream, I want to run for the light switch, but I am still paralizyed.
So I just lay there in terror until my body decides that it needs to sleep, and I fall into another nightmare.
I say I am afraid of the dark for these very reasons...
But think about it this way.
The darkness is merely a canvas that my mind paints. And what it paints is controlled by my subconscious.
Maybe, just maybe...
I am afraid of me.
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 3:50 AM UTC
*A pack of cigarettes, some gum,
some condoms, and $50 were stuffed
into his cargo pocket, in his left hand
a 9 millimeter, 10 rounds in the clip
he spotted a dead Vietcong.....
Yellow and scrawny....
a bullet through his right eye
his brains seeping out of his skull....
A little girl, walking down the dirt field road
a rice bowl in her right hand,
a bayonet in the left, it was covered in blood
Up the road, he spotted a fire,
the sounds of AK-47's whipping through the wind
a pile of bodies stuffed on top of each other
Ears and fingers wrapped around bare skinned necks
the smell of rotten flesh....
To the south, a **********
high heel boots, lace *******
and a mini skirt, unkempt hair, pitch-black
red lipstick and hazel colored eyes
$50 for a ******* $75 for a *******
$100 for one hours and $200 for two
condoms still stuffed in the cargo pocket
A back alley, a sloppy *******
the ****** broke.....
The gum is still wrapped in foil,
unwrapped, slowly chewed, sweet then bitter
the roar of helicopters and the blast of grenades
American flags ripped and set on fire
A single bullet, a silent gasp.....*
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 2:52 PM UTC
my love for you will be the death of me
it fills me up, fills up every millimeter of empty space in my body
it moves my organs around to make room
it engulfs me, and swallows me whole
every moment i'm awake feels like i'm drowning in it
it travels up my body, up to my throat
every moment i'm awake feels like i'm suffocating on it
at night i wake up thrashing, grasping at my throat, begging to be allowed room for air
it travels up my body, up to my head
every moment i'm awake feels like i spend it thinking about you
you take control of my thoughts, my feelings
you're like a parasite i can't get rid of
my love for you will be the death of me.
Feb 16, 2024
Feb 16, 2024 at 4:51 AM UTC
Everything (physically) erased, nothing ever forgotten. Every word spoken or written is engrained in my brain, I will never be the same. Unlike no other you came you conquered you (changed). Seven existential hours that would change my DNA and internal making, making, making what I knew up until then surprisingly malleable. Your words your actions your face your voice filled up every millimeter of me that everything else inside was pushed to the brim and seeped out of my pores. Everything I once was became everything you ever were, ever are. There is a chair in the back of my mind that is reserved for you to sit there and continue to hotwire (my mind) and thoughts into something much better than I ever could have fathomed. Your puppet strings control what and who I am and it is impossible to think there is any other living organism that could possess that undeniable ability. There is a keyhole somewhere inside myself. There is a key inside of you. Keyholes the size of pinholes as vast as Sirius. Small, believable, existing. Keys the shape of orchids and birch as natural as the metamorphosis of roots (into) trees. I never knew what (my) purpose was until you. Or maybe I always knew what I was before you and you opened the windows to the (soul) otherwise known as brown eyes so timid to everyone besides you. The smallest organs became so (full of) nothing but visions of you. There is a special place in my slowly beating heart perfectly executed to fit all of you. A twin bed that only holds one girl has an infinite amount of room for whatever (love) you could continue to bring into my life. The impossibility to (for)get and erase has left me with an endless amount of hope to see you again. The possibility of knowing that you are still somewhere out there and I am still somewhere down here, although unsure where. I cannot ascertain whether or not feelings are reciprocated but I know I know they are. I know you know where you are. I know you know I do not know where I am but you could figure it all out for me. You had it all figured out for me. Plans stretched farther than the 3000 miles separating my red string from yours. Our strings are still connected. There is nothing in the world that can cut them no matter the distance no matter the people no matter the time no matter the place. I know and somehow you know fate will bring our two oceans together. One calm ocean full of creatures so logical and tides so serene they make a beautifully flawed human being known as yourself. One ocean plagued by waves and uncertainty as to what is below the surface that makes up a human being, me. Both oceans surround land full of love. Our continents will merge. Our love will emerge. (You, only you.)
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 12:42 PM UTC
i gravitate towards you
like a dusky desolate deposit of dirt
to its glimmering counterpart
of lapis lazuli, ridden with veins of gold
i reach and reach
to no avail
and i watch as you spin quickly away
stumbling and straightening before slipping into another stagnant spiral
how do i catch up to one
so quickly moving amongst the stars?
celestial bodies they may be
but i am a mere moon, reflecting light for your gaze
i can feel my muscles expanding and stretching
tendons taut with tension and
heart pounding and pounding away at the pavement
as i move forward and grasp outwards to you
but a mere millimeter of air becomes solid
and my knuckles crash against nothingness
instead of the warmth of your palm
which i'm not truly sure was even there to begin with
the darkness of this dying universe
is colder and more derelict than i have the capacity
to understand; and so i curl inwards
alone amongst pebbles and freely floating matter
because a moon without a planet
is simply an orb named vesta
or a goddess called hestia:
frequently forgotten and oft omitted
by those who claim to be scholars of myth, keepers of lore
and by extension, the very children she presided over
overseer of life and hearth nevermore.
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 2:00 AM UTC
What did Sisyphus know
About a slippery slope;
Shoulder to stone
His feet groped,
Shifting inclinations;
Each step consequential,
A mythic joke.
Wiggle the toes,
Feel for the edge,
Sliding is inevitable.
We have no victims
On fallacious slopes.
Which lost hair defines bald;
Which millimeter makes you tall;
How many dimes makes one well off;
Which freckle makes you cute or beautiful;
Which ounce makes you fat,
From thin to Bottacelli.
Where does one begin?
Removing sentiments,
One at a time,
You find you straddle
The love/hate line,
A line drawn on a mountain top,
And splitting your Sisyphus rock.
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 12:01 PM UTC
Maybe I can just build you a house
And then sit beside it
Or inside it. Beside you.
I hung up the phone with the conviction of a man about to walk into his own triple ****** trial.
Your voice on the line sounded sympathetic, and yet, pitying. As if you were sorry for the fact that I was so in love with the way that voice sounded on its own.
I am creating stress, I am simply recycling old issues.
I miss you.
I will throw you out this window
And be sure that my fists are broken in your cheekbones,
Dislocated jaw will hang sideways
While our blood will mix into violet.
I'll tickle your ribs with a buck knife
And spit all my teeth into your eyes.
I genuinely hope that you don't die,
Your lesson is best learned alive.
If it wasn't for you, my fists wouldn't be vibrating
Teeth would be a good millimeter longer
Arms would be loose, migraine at rest
Furrowed brows under new context.
Please forgive my idiocy
For making this harder for you than it has to be.
But don't block yourself from your love for me.
Please don't force yourself to forget me.
Let what you feel be just what you feel.
The higher you build your walls
(or the less you pay attention to the workers)
The sooner my heart will bleed.
I'm ******* tired of being the one to get bruised
Just to turn around and smile through ****** gums
And act like things don't hurt.
I am on the frontburner.
**** it, this hurts so much. I love you too much.
I hate myself.
I don't.
I am so confused. I want you to be happy.
And I want you to want me near you.
Enjoy your friends.
I am with too many people too much.
I want to be alone.
I want to be with you.
This poem is ******* horrible.
I just miss you.
Sorry.
Feb 6, 2011
Feb 6, 2011 at 5:45 PM UTC
As they tie the white blindfold
On my eyes They line up the
FIRING Line see if I do not stand brave
**** **** **** cocking of rifles*
Are explosions in my ears
Fearless I hold
Your picture in hand and take the
Bullets Crainial Spatail gasps
Lungs collapsing
My last thoughts hinge on your
White ******* as my tounge finds
The gunmetal taste of skin
Your haunting laugh
Screaming in frequencies
Unheard mere mortals
I reach the throne room of the gods
With a knife hidden in my boot
*Did you think I would forget?
Your scent still hangs on me
Electrical I squeeze out each last
Drop of Malice upon a silent hotel room
Even though the news on mute taunts me
With polite smiles reminiscent of your taut hello
A year I spend standing in the rain
Trying to wash the scent of you from my skin
Your taste on my lips
Leaving corpses
Hollow in your wake
The Forked Tongue she spills
Poison in my wine each time
I turn towards the candle light
Until one night I caught her in my Bed
You have no Idea for what you ask
Until at once you understand
I take your hand
Like the moth I rip the wings from your back
You twitch and ****** on waves of pain as
I bring you ever closer to the flame
Your thorax structure spasms of ecstasy
Won't you light me up?
As the beast gives rise
Parting porcelain thighs divine
I find god's stash of
***** tapes in the closet
When I was searching for
A reason not to empty the
Entire clip into my chest
Each bullet carved
With your name in
Perfect Cursive
I break into your house while you are out with your new boyfriend
And I lie on your bed that we used to lie in
I cradle the pistol in my pocket
I keep reaching down to feel
As if I have forgotten it
Flicking the safety
Off
On
Off
On
Off
On
Off
On
Off
On
Off
On
Off
On
****
Chambering the first
Nine millimeter
Hollowpoint
As I hear your front door open
And you flick
The porch light on
Bathing the moonlit yard
In artificial light
The Roses red
I spent my last $12 dollars on
Wilt on the kitchen counter
While in the hall you kiss his neck and
Unzip his name-brand jeans
Leading him to your bedroom door
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 10:54 PM UTC
It's like my body's going supernova.
Every abstract nano millimeter of my being is imploding on itself and exploding into this humid atmosphere - I become slivers of glass on an insignificant Saturday.
My eyes are shattered like marbles -
My fingers scattered like wine glass stems -
I am a shifting, silver star gone supernova -
In the midst of constellations spelling out your name -
There is a vacuum inside me -
My flesh collapses in on itself like aluminum -
I am incandescent like a lightbulb.
There is a bomb inside me -
And the timers gone off -
I spread like a grenade -
Every part of me becomes part of something else.
I am growing from a wasteland -
And dying from the waste -
This encompassing medicine grows within me out of barren soil.
I am a fire -
Golden plasma coins -
This poisonous currency -
I will pay for it all, for it all.
This fire burns branches -
Becomes ashes -
I inhale this dead earth and my lungs are joyous at this fire you've built me from cardboard boxes.
I love you so deeply - I am being broken and repaired all at once.
I feel so full of something I cannot fully understand - I have exploded.
There will never be enough of your lips
Your smiles
Your eyes
Your voice
Your words
Your skin
Your face
Your fingers
Your chest
Your stomach
Your shoulders
Your legs
Your feet
Your kissing
Your voice . . .
If I were walking through an airport toward you, I would not be walking for long.
How many ways can I express my love for you?
You are sunset on my loneliness -
The medicine for my insomnia -
The balm for my aching heart -
And yet my heart has never ached more.
I cannot put my love for you into words - I am without words.
God has finally stumped me -
"Make her fall in love" he said -
"And watch her try to write that".
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 6:45 AM UTC
I could disassemble myself,
Placing my digits in a line of increasing size on a
Metal table,
Measuring by the millimeter and
Inspecting each incision.
I could stand in the path of the
West wind,
Watching my skin come apart
Atom by atom and
Be scattered on the breeze like the
Ashes of so many men.
They could stretch out their hands and
Shake out their hair and
March between mountains,
Conquering every enemy that
Blocks our many paths.
They could become dust motes,
Finding a vivid green eye to irritate or
An antique fur coat to settle in and
Multiply into an army of myself,
Surveying the surface of the world.
I would watch them stamp and tumble and
Fall into the cracks in the ground,
Scraped into the countryside by our
Pens seeking a certain truth.
They would become cramped in those cracks,
Fighting for sunlight and air that's
Stained with the smell of cheap sugar icing and
Sweat from the brow of a child
Playing tag.
Jul 1, 2011
Jul 1, 2011 at 8:01 PM UTC
For ages, this mind has known only a deep sleep and the sound of silence
Entombed in a preserving chamber during a time of violence
The last grain of etherium joins the rest at the bottom of the glass
Ancient magic begins to flow, lighting the runes carved into the sarcophagus long ago
Deep within
The mind stirs
Coming back to consciousness
Pulling away the cobwebs covering the senses and remembering what it’s like to breathe
Dusting off the memory of a cool stone coffin… Is that what is felt underneath?
A faint blue glow brings life to the eyes, telling the mind it is time to rise
Right… it’s been a while, Motor Cortex
Muscles twitch, joints creak and limbs push on the cover of stone
Stone that doesn’t move a millimeter
Oh… I remember
Fingers find the glowing rune on the side
A hundred more runes come to life, and the lid opens wide
The eyes adjust and perceive
A small room filled with old air and covered in the dust of time
And showing the way out, leading to the door
A trail of runes, one by one, in a line
Okay legs
Hands meet a door that has not been met in over a hundred lifetimes
The mind is sure, it is time for fresh air
A return to life, one where the sun shines
Here we go
The seal is broken, the door opens, the dust of time is stirred
Hair flutters, clothes billow, skin feels…
Ah, my old friend, I am so glad you are still here.
It has been a long, long time. *
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 9:29 PM UTC
infant star expanding
pushes out all but the matter you (might) shed.
one thing: moss hides stone. only burrowers & nightwalkers
have ever seen it, its - inhale . exhale
the space around you hums with enticing
clarity and i imagine even a
stranger occasionally nearly
thinks about the same millimeter of air.
black ash and waking, scraping plagues
of this modern world will extinguish
makers of entropy, retaliatory perfection of chance
leastwise: Naive won't be aware
of drowning noiseless in the gray jar of foam.
Dec 14, 2010
Dec 14, 2010 at 3:59 PM UTC
She has given more than blood
And in those sheets the seeds of deceit
Were planted deep
Emptiness spewing from her wrists
Silver gleaming razor crisp
Deeply embedded metal tip
That slashed and ripped
Her pale white skin
She slipped it in
To slide it out
Feeling every metal millimeter
And every maroon milliliter
Till the anemia of death
Was bled dry
Till the crimson
Became crusty brown
The last bath to bleed her of her past
The last question she never asked
Laying silently as she basked
In the calm but clammy haze
Of the last seconds of her last day
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 7:59 PM UTC
How exquisite was her shape
How flawless her form
Only on special occasions should such beauty be worn.
Every millimeter within her frame enhanced my view of God's wonderful creation
From the baby blue earth sky and the forest green of nature, to every long and frustrating paper I had to write.
She was there... captivating and processing every image from the back of my brain.
That was until I broke my precious frames.
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 11:31 PM UTC
The anticipation is heavy within me,
Clouding my every thought
I feel light headed as you
Shut off the flow of life
Around me as nothing else matters,
I can savor the hesitation
Between the airlock
Of our lips,
And then it's a vertical wrestle
Across the floor
Shucking off clothes
And then we stop,
That millimeter
Space between
The contact
Of our bodies,
I can almost feel
Your delicate suggestion
Of hairs rise like static,
Electrifying
The first beads of sweat
As our skins graze
Like the first seconds of an ice cube
When barely you acknowledge its temperature,
The first sip of summer's cool lemonade;
Or is it the very finest of wines,
That's no longer here nor there
As I cling onto your body
Pleasurable friction,
Solid yet malleable
Against the bed trestle
And every other strong surface,
I feel the smoothness of you
Against the rough callousness of my hands,
And I feel I could never let go,
No questions words or thinking,
Just heart, need, and want
And crave, and hunger
Salt lick,
I want to deplete you of air
And replace it all with passion;
Sweet, our bodies shivering
Like crack fiends,
No athlete could keep up
In this heat feel
The slightest caress of a breeze...
APAD13 003 - © okpoet
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 4:04 PM UTC
Caught an intellect from the beams of a flashin' tech
Skies open fools still hopin'
more corrupt than Kenneth Copeland yo I ain't
Jokin' words carefully spoken
From Houston to Oakland me ghettos we all kin
Born in sin so I was made for lusting put my trust in
My nine millimeter soon to beat cha if ya
Not fast with ya draw man this a southside gang
And We running thangs comin' back on track like a
boomerang
Haters love to sing chirpin' like early birds
I move the herds the black Sheppard
testing nerves
Check my lac banked on the curb hit a taste of the herb
To calm my brain cells light a fire see visions of Hell
I inhale free my mind from jail caught in this fairy tale
Thought this world was made for me but it ain't see?
The devil's laughing at me cuz I took the plea of insanity
Expose my mind through pens and papers
Towerin' empires past the
skyscrapers
traces of flowin' vapors
Disappear then reappear back on the atmosphere
But still i ain't here a ghost in a
shell
Pass the seven gates of chakras
cells
Gather my intel from my enemies that sail
Undercover lover to ya mother
mentally
See me I create energy powerful enough
To call out any bluff keep it rough
and rugged
So **** it since most chicken ya feathers
Gettin' plucked givin' up the what?
The funk that is
From Rosemary's kids made in
Hades
Check the tens bumpin' in the
Mercedes
I'm old school rock big jewels pinky
rings
Diamond bezels shining and still
blinding
Sip Tennessee whiskey out the glass cup
Flashback it's the return of King
Tut
Speak bad watch the raw clips keep ya mouth shut
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 9:31 PM UTC
a refugee from wealth,
he and his Dartmouth degree found the spot
farthest from his New England roots, and the first roots
he saw there were those of a banyan tree, giant gray tentacles
piercing the Asian earth, imploring the black soil
for atonement, he thought
the natives said the tree was older than God
immortal, but cursed with some blight that bedeviled them
and that prudent pruning of ailing arms would be wise
the man had only a Swiss Army knife
with its minuscule saw, but soon he set about the task
of trimming the behemoth, one mad millimeter at a time,
and mad was all the natives saw
this white creature, high in the canopy,
often from dawn until the sun sank in the jungle behind him
sawing away, a half branch a day, treating the gargantuan arboreal
like a prize bonsai
villagers would come, hunker, watch in the shade of the tree
once in a great while, they would see a branch crash on the ground,
at which time they cheered the pitifully patient woodsman
many offered to help, some leaving bow saws,
axes at the banyans' base, but he would have none of that
over and over he received new red knives with their tiny saws
these parcels the only mail he got
even during monsoon rains,
the man's labors did not desist
though his audience waned
appearing to defy physics' uncertain laws
the tree was nearly felled, but the man disappeared
before his colossal task was done, the locals claiming he climbed
into the thinned canopy one day and never came down
not even a well worn blade was found
allowing the witnesses to aver he was yet high in the heavens
resting after love's labor had wearied his hands
but perchance healed his heart
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 2:46 PM UTC
[ Intention ]
Gentle smolders scorch resolves in twos. A exhale of words caress the gateway to a heart.
The sound of my name upon your lips, laced with a newfound yearning, I
find my emotions
undressed
and barren before your hungry eyes. Your determined fingers pull at my waist, my bones resolve to a smoldering mess, as our heartbeats quicken with every second I look into your desiring eyes.
I gift your aching skin, trembling in this proximity, soft
quiet kisses,
trailing from the hollow beneath your ear
to the curve of your throat as I feel you grind your teeth together and swallow,
gasping, with eyes closed in pleasure as I tease you and your needs for southern hemispheres to clash and bring about new discoveries. Your hands pull my figure to yours and we fit together neath these sheets, refusing to spoil the fun of driving you crazy i kiss lower,
trailing your collarbone, your chest
d
o
w
n
as my teeth scrape the skin, pleased as the rise and fall of your chest quickens as my lips greet the low of your hips, as my fingers trail along the sides of your body. Leaving you
begging for more, I breathe your name into your neck, sighing and pleading in a way for more than this.
For more than this.
To be able to surrender every millimeter and devote every bit of myself to loving you and being loved by you. To feel the way your body aches for me as your voice does in my ear,
Oh... To make love to you as though I worshipped every bit of skin and flesh upon your body.
Because the love I hold for you demands for your heart to be overwhelmed in my adoration,
my appreciation of the way it sways in your direction,
my desire to behold you as mine and mine alone growls in a darkened place.
I want the moaning of my name, the clawing at your back for more of you.
The weakness of baring yourself to me and letting me learn the arc of your shoulder, the stretch of skin above bone as you return feverish kisses in places I cannot name.
I want the fire of the kiss, the dance of my mouth with yours as we move against the glory of the other.
To succumb to my own tear kissed lashes, as the joy of being lost in you finally comes to reality.
I want you to enjoy all of this.
All that I am, and all I've yet to be.
To satisfy my need of love with the love you harbor within, I make you mine.
Adoring every bit of you and your youthful need for me, I feed your prayers for love with my caress,
my laugh,
my smile,
my kiss,
I inhale the content I steep into the last word before I find rest upon your racing heart,
I end this love the way it began...
With your name.
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 6:06 AM UTC