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ConnectHook Sep 2015
ϖ↑∅⊕↓☺↨☼♀


The dawn is nigh at hand. The clouds
begin to lift above the grange.
Arise, O Phoebus, bless the crowds –
let poultry roam the range.

I’ll bind a broom of gathered hay
to sweep the hen-house free of hate.
Let roosters hail the ***** of day
and chicks with ***** tempt fate.

A fractured self and a challenge hurled:
they left the shell – but found it rough
because our bigoted barnyard world
cannot get ***** enough fast enough.

They flutter through the *******’s farm
subverting gender’s useless role.
We feel their pain, and mean no harm –
yet question this progressive goal.

They cluck a brand-new barnyard song:
Gender Identity Obsolete!
(As long as they claim God hatched them wrong,
biology signals their defeat.)

While poultry scratches rhymes for “hen”
and chicks are combing crests for *****
let’s ring the dinner bell and then
we’ll synchronize the global clocks.

Let Mankind’s unmanned race delight
at Jesus’ gender-free return.
Soon Africa shall see the light
and Araby’s sun more brightly burn.

Then dawn shall break o’er Russian plains
to liberate the Tartar races;
loose their limbs from Gender’s chains
to stride with polymorphous paces.

China too, and Southeast Asia
swift shall follow in their train
celebrating ***-aphasia
joining in the West’s refrain.

Hindu multitudes will rise
to vanquish gender, caste aside
and shake the slumber from their eyes
with metro-ambisexual pride.

Carib isles, with Latin kingdoms
From the tropics to the mountains
Shall announce they too are Wisdom’s,
drinking from de-gendered fountains.

Juveniles, raised to simply be
shall pioneer new modes of life;
explore horizons happily
set free from biologic strife.

Then shall our earth, in glad array
***** dirt upon Tradition’s tomb;
unshackled from that dark dismay
to grieve – but nevermore exhume.

Alas, the global dreams descend.
We’re back in the barnyard, gender-*****…
where hens have ***** and eggshells bend
transcending Nature’s reign of fear.

The henhouse still votes hetero –
their eggless chickens cluck for rights
biologists, ex utero
are born to further futile flights.

(Because I was almost one of them
I’ve earned the right to make fun of them.
Time alone will tell if the trend
remains coherent to the end.
)
Shofi Ahmed Jul 2018
Poetry in motion
is a sea on the ground.
In the sky the Moon
is its headline!
David Hutton Oct 2017
The motion that is an echo of you
are the ghosts that bear resemblance to you.
Well, it seems that they key to life
               is to simply maintain motion…
Since can’t see the air,
                I guess I’ll emulate the ocean.
I’ve found I’m better off moving,
             so I’ll let these currents do the choosing –

           Because I can’t decide
                       myself
               if my self-worth
              is worth proving.

I’ve got wounds that need soothing…
                  I’m so tired of losing.
I’ve lived too much,
                          in too few years
     for such a lack of improving.

I need a device to twist this plot –
                      Some sort of 'deus ex machina.'
I need a key to this lock,
             but there’s something blocking the
Path to my salvation.
I still long to feel elation.
But, I’m being stifled by the laws
of this "freedom-filled" nation.

I fell under the illusion of a perfect constitution
But, this "justice" isn’t clean – it’s hardly more than sheer pollution.
Shayla Ahrns Feb 2017
Life is not always big
We are all here
Small
And drifting
Figuring it out
Loving and hurting
Leaving and healing
jane taylor May 2016
i watch you walking
as I sip
my morning tea

what’s your story?
i see your glory
as you walk down the street

i am honored
to behold your presence
as I watch you from afar

you are gods in motion
i can see you
behind the scars

©2016janetaylor
Britt Nichole Jan 2015
How tired we are
Always taking hot salt baths,
thinking that they'll heal our gaping wounds.
Then we cry because we hurt like **** and are naive enough to ask the faucet why it would do such a thing. It wasn't even the faucet.
How is it that we don't ever feel clean unless we are burning?
Our minds are saturated in switched blame but I'm also saturated in my own hot air.
Let's hum.
Stand ***** in puddles of rain water and ask God why you've caught cold feet, why you're running away from feeling something.
Don't **** the passion, just watch it live sadly and then die. You die, not the passion. Someone else will catch it and since it's awfully contagious they'll give it to someone else too. Passion Plague.
I'm nifty with words.
Be nifty with hands.
Bend me over and fold me in until you're inhaling sticky sweat and loose hairs.
I have penny slots and other slots that are empty waiting. You've got the parts so you know what they are waiting for.
I do too, but I'll be ***** to make you ***** if I have to.
Pop off can tops and keep them between your front teeth as I dance around the empty ashtray in our hotel room. The sheets are cold like your rain water feet and thin like self restraint, but I'll still tease.
Let's make sin worth burying and call it the Boogie Monster anyway.
Äŧül Feb 2016
Their voice so harmonious,
Silent when no strings attached,
All the curves so very ****,
Smooth is their texture,
Admiring their beauty with fingers,
You seat them on your lap,
Putting their arms around your shoulder.

Tickle them hard to make them peck,
They touch your heart with their sound,
Nibbling your ears in between,
The motion generates friction,
Friction generates heat,
So icy sweet is her music,
All over, you script success.

I talk of my guitar here.
I now possess 2 guitars.

My HP Poem #1022
©Atul Kaushal
Dani Jan 10
A walk on the beach, calm and content
A slow stride with intent
Directions are clearly written
For the water tempts with graceful position
"Come to me, and take a swim
I will shelter you, please come on in
Little green speckled walker
I, the Ocean, call you son and daughter."
With a joyous pitter
And an excited patter
Water to toes,
Then feet, legs, and tummy, all the way to little turtle’s nose.
Protection and freedom within the ocean
A soft sweet lullaby motion
Turtle
I’m in my prime; at the cusp of my development.
A few more years of growth makes decay a lot more relevant…
Glass Elephant,
Glass Elephant,
Irrelevance, benevolence, compassion, or malevolence;
I’m one of few who sees it sums no difference.
Glass objects.
Or Elephants.
Irrelevance,
Irrelevance

Striving for motion, with motive elusive
Each thing I endeavor is far too exclusive
I need something inclusive, objectively singular
A sinusoidal wave with a mean lacking integers
Peace in zero and equilibrium inclusion
Glass Elephant
Glass Elephant
Delusions, Delusions
Melody Mar 7
Heart flutters
Mind stutters the words
that I want to mutter
Another chance, perhaps
another

Your presence
Completes my puzzle of life
Makes me feel like
a picture whole, rather than
a piece of society’s
ever-changing mural

We intertwine
Grapes of love and hate
on emotional vines
Relishing these fleeting
moments
one day at a time

Your presence
Completes my
mysterious existence
Makes me feel like
a human empowered,
rather than
another person going
thru the motions of life
Love is profound.
Sara Buzz Sep 2018
Do you ever feel that twinge? When the hurt is so powerful that you unwillingly lose all hope, all strength and all sense of who you are and fall to your knees, head bending to the floor as your own arms come around you in a thoughtless uncomforting hug?
When the world around you is no longer there and you feel your own bones shifting inside you, caving in on itself your body is fully weak. All of your bones bend down like treebraches covering the heart that is threatening to come right out of your chest, drop into the endless pit, empty void that you cant see but is the ground.
Your skin is gone, you're a skeleton with your giant reaching bones caged around your loose swinging remaining heartstrings supporting your heart in place, tired of holding on, ready to let go, let everything fall.
Let your heart and the last inkling of goodness fade and be eaten up by your own misery, for its dry withered husk to disappear for good.
There are stray tears on your face from before, earlier, because you have nothing left in you anymore, no tears left to be expelled from either clenched closed nightmare reflecting eyes or wide open yet unseeing eyes.
Your body is shaking uncontrollably and at this point your mind is blank.
You laugh, because you have no thoughts, nothing to tie you back down to reality.
You laugh like a maniac because what just happened cant possibly be true, but is.
You're so angry at yourself, livid with your own faults and so beyond what mere humans call grief.
Agony is too kind a word for it.
You feel the call of darkness take over and you grab for whatever your hand may touch.
Harm.
Do yourself harm.
The body is all that's really left of you, all you have left to feel even though you cant actually feel a thing. At this point you're already gone.
The only thing to bring yourself out, to think, to feel an emotion that isnt completely pain, to drag yourself above the earth once again and witness the blood of your shame.
It makes you blink a few times, processing.
Back to earth it is calm, you're thinking again, you look around and see where you are, you never left.
Things fell apart around you but you never moved a muscle, aside to return clarity and then to clean yourself up.
Things are calm.
Everything quiet, peaceful.
Youre completely alone where you are.
But you've somehow found a way to fully accept and move on in a short amount of time.
You understand what you thought may never occur has finally, and you can remember.
You've experienced the world of emotions and survived.
You're sitting safe where you left yourself before the storm hit you. You contemplate all the damage around you, strong enough to walk again, ok enough to solve your situation with a clear mind.
Things may be healed now, things may be fixed or renewed.
Life goes on from this point a better day when you appreciate the regain of what you'd never actually lost.
Sara Kellie Jul 2018
Lipstick kisses,
we're both wearing red.
I motion her over and onto our bed.
Blood red smeared across our lips.
I keep her enticed, I straddle her hips.
Seductively playing,
I'm touching my lips.
Long acrylic nails,
for us never fails.
I show her a ***** and
she gently wails.

She's waiting,
my sweetheart,
I **** her so much.
We ****, we're on fire
and I wonder,
which of us holds the power.
I, in all honesty is hoping it's her,
'cause then I'll continue this life
in her beautiful blur.

Poetry by Kaydee.
A girl in love with another girl.
Gabriel burnS Dec 2018
bare bore-feet tread as one, the ore of Eurekan stone,
bearing belief in the Philosopher’s;
drilling the marrow of the underskull mine
never stopping to wipe a forehead,
and yet, never a chore
as the springing of sweat
dried up long ago
drained with the dread
Lyrical—
like poetry in motion.
Rhythmic—
like the motion of the ocean.

Fluid like a breeze
passin with great ease,
Movin through the branches
Dancin through the leaves.

Flowin like my mind,
Going over time,
puffin on some trees,
Like truth I’m bout to find.
Stayin on my grind.
Leavin fear behind.
Blastin through the cosmos
like my stars are all aligned.
Quantum physics redefined,
The beauty of being kind.
Travel thru dimensions,
A universal mastermind.

This illusory time
alluding to retain us-
Yet the conscious mind
refuses to contain us.

Recondition of the masses,
Before time comes to pass us.
before it’s all too late
Start movement to change
Let’s wake each other up
Let’s take control over our fate.

Again and again,
Love it till it’s over,
live it till it’s fin.


A reflection of your life spent,
a vessel that you’ve been lent,
so go forth with intent.

Gratitude for all worth
Know you are important
Every breath, and all birth.

Your light that resides true
In the poetry inside you.
The vibration stays fluid,
Like the love that is intuit.
You’re a medium— a conduit.
Yeah, now you’re catchin onto it.

High frequency—-
Waves of love
True vibrancy,
Bonds—-
you are free of.

Faith in self,
No need for vaunt,
lovin what you have
not havin what you want.
Give it all you got
till you got nothin left,
Then take the deepest breath
And give it once again.
L B Jul 2018
For my cousin, Chris Goldrick

Lacing my skates
after walking two miles
in girl-strictured delight
Mom's stories of Sonja Henie--
No, not ever

Lacing my skates
with  snow-ball pompoms
felt skirt
and nylon tights
Cute little hat with matching scarf
My thighs and fingers
already freezing
icy burn
from miles on foot

to get there
the lake where--

I must get out
I must get OUT!

Knowing what
to expect from my body
the quick-twitch of muscle
Could always sense
specific--
gravity of water    
at 22 degrees

Desiring to feel
the motion between ice and steel
Read speed's vibrations through my body
The brain registers relation
to weather's effect
Tell of velocity
possibility of fall
Feel the slash of the blades beneath me
Throw my weight sideways, sudden
to hear that furious hiss
An object in motion tending, dire
to stay in motion

Threatening to stay there
always
in its heights-- of speed
away--

from the crowds of skaters
swirling distant in the lights

Seeking instead
the farthest reaches of Porter Lake
speed and speed and more
to overcome
inertia
of what it is to become
undone

at the outer edges, of humanity
A force  
centrifugal unto myself

Avoiding

Pregnant and slow
with years and babes....

The best
must be broken and tamed
of what it takes to stay free

catching the edges with every stride
catching my toe in the quick
180
spray of frost
to the sudden still

Listen to the frigid chill

and the heave of my breath
tumbling into evidence

Gliding
Once

Forever--

on, into darkness
of woods on frozen water

The wildness of it all

So infatuated with flight
so full of grace

I forgot Sonja

The moon rose
from her seat in the treetops
and applauded
Wrote this immediately from a dream a couple months ago.  With all the heat and humidity, it sounded good to go today.

This dream was an actual relived memory of being 12 years old and skating at Porter Lake in Forest Park of Springfield, Massachusetts.  22 degrees F is minus 5.5 C --Just a reference
Christian Ek Jun 2014
Disappointment is thrown strongly at my direction.
Blame gathers in large quantities like a pest infestation.
"It's your fault" and words like "You always make mistakes" evoke anger.
Anger which I want to take out on myself and take out on others.
I can excel in my work of choice, I know I'm more than average.
The bad gets pointed out more and little praise is given for the good.
Stunned by unmoving words. I'm like a prisoner sentenced to jail, released and expected to do worse.
Destruction emerges from my enraged emotions, i wish your words could offer a solution.
I want to be an alchemist and turn things into gold.
It's ironic how I am a creator of words but cant create better words in my critics.
Conversations lead to arguments because i want to be heard.
I'm sick of revolving doors, sick of being slammed by your atrocious comments.
"You have no common sense" you say to me, maybe I just prefer to be in a daydream, my mind drifting away because life is too dull.
Realize that what you say has an effect and that effect can drive somebody or stop them in motion.
Shofi Ahmed Jul 2018
On the very edge the living earth
dared to replicate Queen Fathima
The Queen of Heaven’s footstep.
That way is graced by
thousands of the prophets of God!

In the name of Allah she descends
on the Night of the Ascending.
From the odd night an unnumbered zone
The Night of Measure unlike the rest
it doesn't geometrised is a transcended location.  

The earth steps in the gap making way for her:
The only asymmetric Golden Ratio.
Slips out to the symmetric prophet flock!
Sequenced in symmetric phi she moves on
in the veil, exposes her unique divine closeness
her golden spiral reaches out closer to God!

So pretty she is the paragon work of art
the sunrise amidst the eternal night.
Her beauty in her shadow is burning fire.
She is 'Zahra' pure light the luminary dynamo
the only one woman had no shadow!

The great women flock mirrored the earth.
Treading across on every atom on that angle
perfectly aligned down the Moon.
Until those beneath the skin atoms
bang, explode on approaching
the vibration beneath Fathima’s foot!

The seven seas billowed up
floating on the clouds.
Choreographed like a little dew.
Hanging low on the rose
just to drip down on that hot spot
like a cool honey drop.

Even the Moon on the horizon
fancies to sip from this drop.
Ah, the lunar punter rowing down.
The sleeping beauty wakes up
eyes on the silver dance.
Eying on every star in the night.
The Moon is floating down
slices of the moonlight pushing the boat.
Full of fireflies rolling over  
to the cup of this pretty little drop.  
Poetry in motion is a sea on the ground
the same is known as the Moon in the sky!
The storylines jump ever more
on that way over the shady grove.
Painting the colour of the winds
the sky rains down on that spot
singing the sweetest title song.  

Never was a woman prophet of God
nor was paradise hidden anymore
to one woman it was the open shore!
The heaven turns upside down
turning for the earth the last stone.

For the rest of the rocks
it was the stepping stone.
As many times more
the earth may try on
it will still be tangent fluid
until the very one woman
The Queen Fathima steps on.

Her presence connects the dots
the nadir and zenith perfectly line up
intersect into one grand perfect circle.
She will close it with the pi once for all
without a gap spilling new decimals.
At last putting it all on the map ‘as above,
so below’, all in all, a pure scientia scenario.

The Heaven will open its grand door
where The Queen will stand on.
No more reverse engineering physically
the original, Fathima will step on,
on this last turned stone.
Paradise starts from here on.
From the one great woman
from beneath the mother’s foot!
Sofia Von Jun 2013
All we really want is to make our mark

Getting caught up in the what and the how
We loose track of our ground, our feet
That have been in motion since breath
And there we’ve already begun
And left remains

Our desire for remembrance clouds
Our ability to pulse in the zone
We currently inhabit

Like animals we compete
To find the best of the best and the rest aren’t important?

The dew of the new is just as fresh as the old ones tale revived
on a cold night but
by the summer sun
I am scorched
By each,
equal
Ron Conway Dec 2018
Love is a dance ..two..three chance ..two romance ..two..three
Hearts beat so fast ..two..three vast ..two the last ..two..three
Movement and rhythm split light through a prism becomes something more
Temperature rising the future devising becomes something more
Love is a dance. Take a chance Life enhance ..two..three
devine Jul 2018
i am me
you are you
let me be
you have no clue

stop talking like you understand
i'm tired of swimming toward your dreams
i can hear my heart stop beating
drowning in my own feelings
a shattered mind lost in sand
catastrophe appears on my screens

but i'm no God
no one in particular
the most ordinary thing
full of aspirations
imaginations
and colors

i'm not going back to the corner
i'm gonna run farther
i'm gonna make it better

the fire ignites
the ocean send its waves
raw emotion spilled into motion
it's not broken it's golden

why should i listen to others
when i own the colors
it's not only a caption
it's satisfaction

all the beautiful colors
took a long time to show
i do not fear it
i do not hate it

i'm proud
i'm shining colors
you can never see
Shofi Ahmed Aug 2018
The Eid is bustling with joy
come let’s give it a try
f  
  l
    y
     away!

To the deathless groovy paradise
floating high on the elixir flow:
The triumphant joyous wave
streamed up from the secret bottom line!  
Up above the lapis lazuli sky.

A pair of butterfly basks
in the sunlight
quietly indulges in style.
It goes on in slow motion
illuminating the night a firefly
perches on a slice of the Moon
flanked by the moonlight.

But you and me
we will rhyme and chant
in our lovely mother tongue.
In the same original lingua
like ‘Adam speaks up and all
angels listen in paradise’.
Come let’s give it a try
f
  l
    y
     away!

On the wings of the moonlight
we will
s
  a
    i
      l
       away!

Ambling by the Moon
we'll **** through the starry nooks.
Eyes open and gently perched
atop a star for a moment or two.
We will see miles of galaxies
over the moonlit lakes of the blue
playing cool ravishing lutes!

The spring night is in bloom
and the cute sleeping beauty
wakes up playing the flute!
Musical half lights filling the sky.
Come let’s give it a try
f
  l
    y
     away!

We’ll drink sharaban tahura
the holy wine of paradise
and once for all we will
k
i
  s
    s the death goodbye!

Our story will fill the divine soil
the heaven's flora and fauna
each and everyone will shine on our page
no houri will ever say finito singing our tale!

As Adam did it first stunned the angels
telling the nature of all things in paradise.
We will do that once more without a smirk
this time we will see the loving Creator!
Cné Sep 2017
Let me mold my body along your curves; trickle yourself into my entire being

Vulnerable, ****, my heart exposed, palpably we connect across the starry sky; you ... within me

I want your intimacy to linger along the edges of my lips hours after you've gone

I ache to be consumed by your eyes, intense with emotions, long after the dawn

Take me to your intimate chambers where hearts race; the rhythm of our silhouettes melded on satin sheets

Leisurely feel your way; a slow descend along the avenue of my rhythmic swell; forgive me of my quivering wanton needs

Allow me to graze at the gates of your femininity, drinking the honey from your pink walls; to feel your crowning point between my lips

How can I resist those wandering lips that stirs the curtains of my garden alcove; perfectly painted in honey dew, I throb for the touch of your kiss

Drape your thighs upon my shoulders; let the waves of satisfaction cascade up your spine

I beg to be released, dear God, of this intoxicating spell; I submit myself, heart laid bare; oceans of emotions no longer can I hide.

Find your eyes locking with mine; my torso parallels yours, my body pressed to you; equal in ferocity and tenderness

Mesmerize by your burning eyes in our melting flesh, so strong your hold; yet so tender your caress

Utter our names in fiery moans both whispered and screamed in heated breaths on our solitary night

Vile obscenities float out on heated breath, as cool air kiss our molded skin on the evening our time takes flight

Take me to your heart & cast away the flesh; allow our souls to weave in the throes of passion as our bodies mix into one; slow-motion ecstasy

A longing deep inside, the locked chambers of my soul to exotic places beyond our imaginationsyou sneak into my heart to fulfill my every fantasy 

Feed me the lullabies you paint on your canvas; orgiastic symphony we conduct in cascading tides; trembles throughout our bodies when our fluids mix

Let me paint upon your heart a ballet of our duet; the crescendo palette of my tide drown you in the spirit of our lyrics

Your ripe fruit quivers tenderly while our union completes; take my hands and let me be yours

Hold my sated body that tremors from the wake; *a union of our souls ensnare a bond secure
A Collaboration with Jack Jenkins.
https://hellopoetry.com/jack-jenkins/
幽玄 Jun 2018
The first sign of a dream approaching is that when you’ve already awoken,
awoken to a strange place with no trace of how you could’ve gotten there.
And the unfamiliar, faces near, with eyes similar to shards– shaded  
you can’t help but notice those feelings emitted were somehow something you’ve come to known before,
but where?
–a notion coursing its way around a soundless observatory only to further dissipation—
A sign of discord covers the room,
all that was allowed is furthest from you,
a parched paper made from what seemed like rugged twine knows nothing but lead between,    you find a face emerging from it,
quickly drawn with detail,
there it stops from motion to undulating surpass,
away from a darkened room up in front of a morning taking.
This conjuring source flairs outward
rising through the outworn canvas
leading it to embers
dancing away along a fizzled plane
for what was despair inscribed in this meaningful dereliction.
To what is empty from emotion is nonexistent,
I couldn’t find the reason to live on,
this dream has died as will I... as will the will of this way this place carries over me.
Yes decay follows me,
unto everywhere will there be the silent breezes to carry me past the concrete terrain into nothingness.
I find myself to live this over,
until the advent of air drowns these lungs to knowing again,
to know exactly what it means to breathe again.
I see no reason for such things as unrealistic as they may seem likely for me to occur in this living.
Again I’m stuck in a room full of my owns thoughts,
such a dangerously sorrowful place to be.
‘For everything as it may have not been
weary am I for looking forward at
The things that never happened’

‘Turning over everyday, repetitively’


In its most rawest.
5.3

Parallels:
Snow, for me exemplifies a mute understanding from in juxtaposition with various types of sadnesses that branch off into disparately inclined yearnings, to nostalgic preferences, whether known or not. Why it happens is of course obvious but the way it affects you, makes one wonder, if at all— I think I’m trailing off my train of though here, I’m not sure where this is going..

This was inspired by a remarkable composer, as I recalled a dream before, along with the yearning of trying to expose my underlying expansion of myself with my current understanding of things. what it all could mean as much of his cello’s presence affected me during that process. I’m the gray area that needs deciphering.

—continuations:
the cello that wails the loudest, is one that suffers the most. Even so, every tone encapsulates the listener with resonance. And in that, it reaches its utmost vulnerability, showing the many hues imbedded in an infinite sadness, in an astronomical way, a type of exquisite somber, that resides in the instrument’s hollowness until implementation of procedure.
KE Aug 2018
My body is an ocean.
It's all curves and wave and swirls and caves, my body is an ocean.
My body brings commotion to the motion of the air.
It splashes and flop and tips and tops.
My body is calm.
It's unbothered and not dove into.
My body is an attraction.
An ocean view from far beyond.
My body is ocean.
It's clear blue brings a sunny sky and what knows who.

Just don't fill me up with trash and thrashes of lashes and
Cold hard plastic in my body.
Don't make up lies and tell people I'll drown you with my thighs and not my heart.
Don't call me out for my body and make up unforgettable lies because I'm not all hurricanes and stucked up whirlpools and typhoons full of disaster.
I'm not the hurricanes taking away homes and children.
I'm not a ocean waiting to happening.
I'm not polluted or full of lead, making my feeling undrinkable and my tears unmeaningful.

I'm an ocean full of hope and adventure.

My body is an ocean,
An ocean free to swim in.
onlylovepoetry Mar 2018
Friday night immodesty

theater on East 4th street @ 8:00pm,
so the girlie stuff commences on schedule
90 minuets a-priori and the medley music
(adele+amy+alicia+ pink bach for some zing)
a harbinger, a pioneer Greek heralding of
Friday night immodesty

the clothes laid out upon the bed, the shoes,
pumps selected and already on,
(always a puzzler to me,)
the subdued lower east side jewelry possibilities,
on the dresser drawer,
indifferently hoping for selection, but
casually beaming quietly,
like those kids waiting for interviews in the waiting room
of the college Admissions Dean’s office,
all with serious smiles
and tiny tearing eyes

aside:
helloooooo, I am in a poetry polo with my best jeans ready to go
2 hours before the curtain calls out,
hellooooooo

she sits at the makeup mirrored desk,
clad in only her underneath garments of varying utility,
when I sweep in imperially
and with one hand twist gentle her hair upwards,
betraying
her neck nape which is again
the sujet of a poem aborning

lips,
like a Greek lyre strings, pluck, the tiny hid hairs never seen,
her instant moans at the never fully expected motion poem,
beg more mercy but no quarter given despite repeated cries
of you’ll mess my makeup,
the best defense known to a lady!

god gave men two thumbs to lift up,
simultaneously stimulating,
slide down each of the thin black brasserie strap invitations,
upon each, a writ,
upon her flesh colored shoulders,
stating
“what was she thinking!”

my lips,
now polar explorers, those power (filled) poles side by side,
(east/west for the designer was a smart
bipolar guy-person);
the lips play silent night progressive jazz,
tinkling with higher noted keys,
nape to shoulders moving down to the back’s prefrontal lobe,
the small of her back, the body’s quivering,
a con-federate flag of surrender

her last defense swept aside, we drink honey and milk,
celebrate the week’s mellifluous finish with immodest touching,
the lower east side will belong tonite
to only the hipsters, the millennials,
as our hips are milling and  otherwise
pre-theater and post, occupado

some hours later, watching TV and eating delivered Chinese,
she laterally and literally arm punches my arm
intensely to mark her discontent,
still annoyed,
for I

1) messed up her makeup,
2) best blouse to the dry cleaner and
3) the tickets wasted, and worse,
hits me again!

after I laugh and giggle upon proffering
most modestly, most assuredly,
seconds of
onlylovepoetry

9.21am Saturday
thank you all who liked this tale of
the poetry in the details
of our lives.
olp
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xECiTdgy9nE&fbclid=IwAR006r9vj7NLJKNxwZp_2KJ1AbSjo-oSv2ANQUq-kBgIi2-xOil-d4as­kq8
I came to liberate lions from dungeons
I came to share and not stare at you
I came to actualize powers within me
I intend to distribute resources equally
I came to reiterate that all beings are beautiful
I came to make an impact like mountains do
I came to create music with my attitude
I intend that symphonies surround me with their melodies
I intend that children feel safe to open up to me
I came to empower dancers in perpetual motion
I intend to be a witness to the miracles of life’s radiance
I came to scream love songs into forests
I came to hear my own voice echoed by hollow caverns
I intend to create portals that we can travel through
I came to bring back the aurora borealis at all latitudes
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