"patchouli" poems
who knew that in about
4 years time,
or maybe
10,000 years lost in
10,000 multi hued tears,
id be on the same trip-
dancing to the same
shimmering inner grove as before-
braiding fresh cut
flowers-
delicate genital-hands, unfolding in prayer
into my subconscious mind
or perhaps into my hair-
saving colored prism fragments
of knowledge or nonsense-
digesting intoxicating
incense smoke into the
deep throated green streaked
laughter chasms
that are my lungs-
spinning vinyl, spun mind
unwinding, undulating
through string music-
contemplating the sunset's sweet
immaculate form, reoccuring
and balancing itself right outside my window-
dressing in shells, bones,
and beads; kaleidoscope fabric dripping from
the ******* like mother Kali in a Fellini
flick-
peeping out at heads slinking down
the ****** pavement streets-
my hairy angelic form grooving
intensely, spastic-
body flung, strung out in
hot patterns of
mirrored arms and legs-
brain brew bubbling; wicked, fantastic-
limbs waving and grabbing at
tangible tasty morsels,
smelling strongly of indigo
and patchouli-
the East smiling on me and
my intrepid journey to the ocean city-
head thrown back in
tranquil madness-
pipe smoke curling like
ancient hound howls from the corners
of my lips-
smiles spread like insanity, a wicked disease
lost in the forgotten finger painted
confounds of creamy
****** milk consciousness-
basking in lamplight
of the golden glistening
Now.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 1:26 AM UTC
goodmorning
the **** convinced me
not to move the black bracers-
killer whales wanting to dance
but i stuff them with threads,
knots of ebony and fishnets,
so they hang over my body
at night during my journeys.
are they looking after me or
are they after that red bead
in my center?
burning woodsmoke now, patchouli
melt creamy- as venus sways one
hip from the fire pits of aries
she ends up on the other side:
the dirt finger grove of the steady
bull chanting "hold and touch and stay."
goodmorning
when has the sun glided his way,
as if upon the hips of a sea nymph,
across miles and angles of what
was a dark night?
keep your water, i am weaving.
i am breathing every taste of it
i am touching infinitely that center,
so sought after, like the walls of palaces
when tongue touches lip
i am rubbing every color through me
i am watching your scent drizzle gently
all over my pools of skin.
tend me like the earth, goodmorning
string me like the grape vines bursting forth from soil.
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 7:01 AM UTC
Dark chocolatey skin bears the flag of red
Coloured, a sin; these feelings are cultivated and bred
So they're brought to toil on white soil
Reminiscing the scent of their native land, the sweet patchouli oil.
As they trudge through barren land, lost hope and ****** soles mark their path
This coloured discrimination instigates fair feelings of wrath
A helplessly agitated mind and yet they stand still
With wistful eyes, devoid of their free will.
At night, they sing to themselves songs of a land far away
As they drift off to a restless sleep, dreaming of being back there someday
Scalding feelings of entitlement and vengeance have taken birth and clouded minds
Working on indigo and cotton fields, on merriment and mirth have been drawn white blinds.
No matter how clean the records, the message is loudly heard
"When looked upon as a blue jay, you can never be a mockingbird"
These words passed down through generations deny them their say
Day to night and night to day but time couldn't change the black man's dismay.
Wanted is colour in life but shunned is coloured life
This clash of colours holds no value, only adding on to people's strife
So while i stand here trying to fathom out the meaning of it all
I hope, someday, realisation will take down this coloured wall.
May 9, 2021
May 9, 2021 at 2:31 AM UTC
August heat rolls in unchecked
I dab softly at my neck with a hint of Autumn whispers
Already yearning for cardamom and patchouli
Winds to blow Chai kisses my way
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 11:09 AM UTC
It was early fall,
the leaves were vibrant
when I crawled to the bar,
catch myself a weekend buzz.
Fred’s drinks were pure trouble,
more jet fuel than mixer.
I mean you could torch your breath
after just one sip.
Rock blared there like a live concert,
loud enough to make you a deaf mute
after just one drink.
The dark walls swirled,
moved in & out, carnival-like,
I purred-down
Jack-elixirs.
I first saw her shining
from across the Mahogany bar.
She was hidden in the shadows,
a real good looker.
Her amber hair was crazy,
blowing everywhere
like the bride of the stitched-man,
electrode-neck.
She might have been a ******
or a nose-candy queen,
but after what the bartender gave me,
it really didn’t matter,
life was played hard on the edge
in them days.
I was enthalled with her,
captivated by her lady-vibes,
she was the perfect last call.
We sang rock and roll songs
in my 455 rocket, crawled
the back roads,
looped
all the way
to my country-place.
We were on auto-pilot,
dropped our guards,
fell into each other’s embrace.
She smelled like salty-patchouli,
had a killer innocent-face,
kissed me with fire,
such strong desire,
a beautiful-wantonness.
Her eyes were so red & green,
indeed she was
the consummate,
the prettiest,
late-night dream girl.
She was bathed in bright ink,
the sun, the moon, the stars,
vividly scrawled on her back
along with a frowning-tiger.
Above her privacy, I spied
a smiling-gnome
with outstretched arms
screaming, “I Wuv You.”
I obliged him,
there was no fighting
her ***** to the wall demeanor.
We shook the planet,
frolicked way past the wee hours,
deep into the noon hour.
When the earth-shattering stopped,
I was hung over on her & the jp4.
We crashed still trashed,
I still don’t know
how I ever got her home.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 4:28 PM UTC
How could I spell out love when it is absent of her name?
The way her eyes reflected a sunrise, the envy of Eos
She was like honey in the sky, the amber of her energy enraptured me
I was bewitched
She was a masterpiece drawn with starlight, unfathomable beauty
An ivory sculpture crafted by the hands of a god, masterpiece of Hephaestus
I remember the time I was blessed by that smile,
A vilified promise
The scent of patchouli and the taste of my favorite tea
Like ambrosia for a mortal, that sweet taste of paradise
Sunflowers and the many other favorites that she gave me
Stolen without a word
She used to call me late at night to talk about her day
But the days for me got longer, I couldn't keep her entertained
Such a coldness hid underneath the warmth I thought she gave me
Gone like a ghost in the night
I thought I was breathless because I loved her, now I’m suffocated by the agony
She was killing me underneath the sweetness, constricting like a boa
And when I close my eyes to see the memories lapse she's still in them
Haunting me like she wanted
Eros' is golden arrows struck me hard and shamelessly
Through my heart and left a scar, chasmic and wide
Her toxic serotonin left me high, addicted to her energy
A limitless euphoria
I spoke to the gods above and I told them of my love
What a liar she's made me out to be, the clever snake
I begged that Aphrodite let my words reach her
But they fell on deaf ears
Now I pray that Anteros relieves me and hears my plea
Unravel these feelings in my heart, lift the anchor of her name
Don't let me be the sole carrier of the blame
For the ruin that remains
Nov 7, 2021
Nov 7, 2021 at 7:42 AM UTC
sugared fingers, the smell of Chanel
and I am flushed on red berry wine
and the charms of someone, dear,
who I would like to call "Valentine"
la vie en la rose
this red stains lips pink and
I see in pink, everything around me
as I dip my nose to my wrists, inhaling
*Sicilian oranges, Calabrian bergamo
Indonesian patchouli, Haitian vetiver
Bourbon vanilla andd white musk*
I giggle coquettishly and I am blushing,
For these sweet nothings
mean very much to me
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 1:50 PM UTC
risque thoughts inhabit my mind
as she steps back and forth across the threshold
nubile twenty something hippy dreadlock girl
such a lovely persona
and moist inked beauty of form
she shouts my poem in the parking garage at four am
the echoes add integrity to it she laughs
my girl takes her in our bed
and shows her some integrity
i would so willfully indulge
but i know that such a creature is
the kind i could come to love with true deep feeling far too easily
and i dare not such misadventure
i am so drawn in by her golden patchouli locks
her fine line inked breast
her laughing gentle eyes
i tell my girl
this interloper of her treasures must depart
in the morning
she is unhappy but agrees
i sleep on the floor
waking to my happy home restored
Jun 8, 2013
Jun 8, 2013 at 11:32 AM UTC
I want to be a hippie,
join a small commune,
set up my camp
way out in the woods,
near the back forty
& the railroad tracks.
I want to swim naked
with them pretty chicks,
braid natty dreads,
go tubing on the river,
make beeswax candles
& tie dyes.
I want weave dream catchers,
paint glitter on Venetian beads,
sing happy songs,
create new stars,
eat whole wheat bread
& make Tabouili salads.
I wanna dance,
circle the blazing fire,
shout out at the moon,
splash myself in patchouli,
smell weed-smoke in the air
& indulge in tantric things.
I don’t wanna
hurt anybody,
break any laws,
just wanna spread love,
blow kisses to butterflies,
ride double-rainbows
on magic carpets
& be a hippie.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 7:54 PM UTC
under the stars
we danced the last dance of the night
to some slow tune
we danced the last dance of the night
just the two of us on the ballroom floor
with the ball spinning a world full of glittering stars
as the bargirl washed the glasses
and smiled at our soul to soul kisses
and as well bid her our fare thee well's
and walked cross the gravel lot
a breeze kicked up and unbound us
from reality
so we could sail home on a ship of dreams
i gathered her in my arms
and the world was light as air
we strayed along the streets
so quiet with slumber
and our shadows fell upon our door
like homecoming
she kissed me
and held herself there in my arms for a moment
as if to capture the fleeting moment
its frail wings beating soft and slow
and it is perfumed by her laugh
which is sleepy
and is followed by a trail of mumbles
like cowboys following the stars
like sheep playing in endless fields of fence
i followed them on down
and roped in the moon
set her in the bed
with its scent of roses and patchouli
she breaths softly here next to me tonight
bewildered that i should be so fortunate
to have such angels of beauty in my life
so we dance well into eachothers dreams tonight
with smiles for the
soul to soul kisses
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 9:38 PM UTC
i've spent months like moths between poems
sacrificing gods for endless answers
but always losing the light or dying on a too-hot bulb
unable to comprehend infinity as a spiritual fly-swatter
but i'm learning how to surrender to silence
diminish into campfires
wash in busted fire hydrants
meditate inside the figurative dumpster of solitude
perhaps forever this time
but my attraction to her is raw
like the sun today at 3pm
burning away my anxiety and shadows
not fueled by selfish lust or vanity
but by surprising vacuum
she is frightening in her beauty
her mind filled with incandescent chaos
her voice a softly spoken flute singing in a canyon
her hair a delightfully suffocating gas
her belly, her smell, everything from
her nostrils to her feet marching
through my tingling limbs
she was from the far end of the universe
a dream of the temporal lobe
polluted by the spike-and-wave blips of computer music
halos around mouths chewing ecstasy pills
her mystic lips curled and eyes lightly fluttering
over a simmering can of cherry coke
my hands an unsteady inch away from
her heated and heaving rib-cage
my lips whispering breaths onto her ivory throat
after a 4am romp donald duck explains
childhood memories from a buzzing television box
the smell of man-musk and sandalwood
spilled whisky and patchouli thicken the air of the room
as weak dawn light streams in through philodendron stalks and fingered leaves arrested by the wind
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 12:09 PM UTC
Moon drops splayed themselves
as though crystal blankets on summers ethereal stream,
Violet memories traced her deep obsidian eyes
How she beseeched Lethe’s empty flow
Night stars dreamed of patchouli perfumed rhymes
Ebon blooms dance with dulcet tones,
And fireflies whimsically danced to tune
Unspent words whispered from bottles of hope stored,
Hypnotized by sweet bees, her heart swept laden fruit groves
─ As hunger ate her soul
Eucalyptus his breath against a smoked filled dawn
A wood fire burned and hands clasped content
Tender his silk fingers traced blush her lips,
Consecrated by night she devoured poetic blooms
Of gold the cauldron blazed how yellow the young flame
One drop be lemon acid boiled black she sang,
Tasting dreams on smoke tarnished in polished prose,
How she bayed to moon’s blueberry gaze and bled geranium red,
By his voice herbs and stones weep and she forgets
─ she forgets, only the night moon bleeds
© Arnay Rumens / A Sol Poet
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 12:55 AM UTC
I cannot not how you smell
so I project my own desire
onto your unknown skin.
Patchouli. A scent that
makes him instantly goofy
and transports me at once
to the decade before
you even drew breath.
Even now that scent
on a crowded street
turns my head in wonder.
Scent, taste and touch:
our first mammalian memories.
Do not be troubled lover,
I will love and linger
on any olfactory lingerie
you care to wear or none.
My second favorite is just
sunshine on bare skin.
But any whiff of you will
become part of my heart
and I will inhale you
deep into my soul.
~mce
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 5:41 PM UTC
o, rèmy martin dreamer,
with cheap hen on your breath.
the good brown is not the backwoods
or juul pods in virgina tobacco,
&
maybe the good brown manifests in my hair,
before the ammonia, touching my scalp
and turning it as red as my tongue after
a strawberry lollipop. everything
tastes like you.
&
i wish i could touch you again,
just hold your hand, brush your
elbow, play with your hair.
but i also wish i could drive a thousand
machetes into your flesh, while screaming
&
writhing with trash-sickened fervor .
you are vomit-inducing. you smell
like a thousand patchouli-burning
stoners, but you feel like velvet
and taste like sugar-sweat.
you might be popping a xan right now,
knee-deep in beautiful girls.
and i'm still dope-sick.
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 12:14 PM UTC
The path is jagged and so I have been told
I feel so pathetic feel old
The canvas I started is thrown on the floor
The room is full of smoke
I cant help feel distressed
I’m hesitant of this mind of mine
I try and surrender but I cant find the time
When all is said and all is gone
Will I see you? Will you fall at my feet?
With pieces of me upon the mountains for only you to keep
I never tried to stay
I knew what I had to do
Wanting to inhale you into a line straight into my mind
Through amethyst moons and fields of love
You come undone and I have just brought you the sun
Pieces of me dwelling in your nerves
Every ounce of your resilience divulges me
You cant escape what you feel
I beat on this drum
Longing for love that is new
Watch you gaze at me with those shades on
Like an old hippie that just cant grow
Patchouli the fresh scent in your hair
Delicate and weak as you go
Spread your wings
Look at that light it forced itself in
I wanted to stay in bed and sleep
But for the reasons I have to live
It sneaked up on me anyway
It was a Wednesday an a dreadful day to fall in love
But as I crossed the road you caught me by my thoughts
Make sure you kiss the sky as you fly by
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 10:56 PM UTC
love, in essence, is blind,
and knows more than it can convey.
the simple sound of your cough
amongst a crowd of weekend shoppers,
red onion in hand for your next soup.
the scent of lemongrass, patchouli,
home away from home.
love, in essence, is blind,
and can see beyond itself.
it touches the ether and knows
your kind soul, your hurt heart,
the deepness of your hugs,
the tickle in your lungs,
the curl of curses on your lips,
and the warmth in your bright blue eyes.
Oct 9, 2023
Oct 9, 2023 at 7:34 PM UTC
Walking up the rickety stairs,
Patchouli and cigarette smoke
combat for supremacy
Before I even reach the door,
and I step through to see
The everyday undead scattered on the thick carpet like so many corpses blown out of Wednesday Addams' haunted dollhouse.
Maybe it wasn't wise to come.
A cd player informs me that, indeed,
Bela Lugosi's dead,
And I cautiously move into the living room.
Ruby lips and ivory faces emerge from the gloom,
Incurious glances marking my progress
As an acolyte guides me to the Queen of the festivities
Holding court in a corner of the living room.
Her waist-length silver-gilt hair and damp skin like fresh camellias gleam in the candlelight,
A studded black goblet brimming with Jack Daniels
Is handed to her,
A token of homage she eagerly welcomes
while nodding me forward.
Whispers behind me tell her story,
Of how she's seen a thing or two in her time,
And why her flat stare and Theda Bara smile give glimpses of her bottomless occult wisdom.
As her slim fingers play with a knotted black necklace,
She considers me long before finally declaring,
--"My God, you're an old soul"--
And she pats the cushion next to her,
An invitation to drink deep and close of her dark knowledge.
A cup of something unknown is pressed into my hand
and I sip, hanging onto every arcane word she utters.
Night slowly fades into dawn
and I wake cold and stiff from a kitchen floor sleep
only to see the Queen buttoning the cuffs on her white poplin shirt.
Smoothing her tweed skirt, she steps into her pumps,
Grips her cup of coffee,
And with a cheery wave, leaves for work.
Oct 19, 2020
Oct 19, 2020 at 3:42 AM UTC
Softly...
even here
the winds of change...
breeze through.
Destiny...
and history...
are turning...
Cogs in place.
*Hell...it actually feels like
... 1968!*
The Hippies
have all grow old
and are now
the voting majority.
Think about it...
They're rolling a doobie...
and affecting real change...
one organic, patchouli soaked
volunteered,
re-purposing project
after another.
The "big picture"
is simply a poster...
cut into small bite sized
puzzle pieces...
we are all skirting the edge...
still unconnected.
It is the age of...
focusing, clearly...
on purpose
and integrity.
The storm is clearing...
and insight,
has an electrical charge...
zapping us all
into action
into submission
into our future...
The message
thunders clearly...
and resonates succinctly
and justly...
Calling for us all
to...Do...
"What you CAN DO...
purposefully for-going...
whatever it is,
that you CAN"T DO"
"I AM"
becomes...
We are...
Maternal society yearns...deeply
waiting for it's turn
not asking permission...
Just doing the next right thing...
and taking the steps
necessary...
To be seen...
far past equal...
On the edges
of unnoticed
Dropping labels
and be recognized
for what I bring to
the table...
not whom.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 9:59 PM UTC
her afternoon daydream
done for the day is now folded
as the sun slips behind the trees
the lush green leaves burn with golden light
as afternoon gives way to night
clouds once fat with rain from the sea
now race to the west
seeking the mountains where
ground touches sky
her afternoon daydream wiped away
by her lips a neon red gloss movement
these two dreadlock angels
sunbathing ******* in our backyard
on the verges of my mind
no words to her glances
just checking on a tapping old crow
tapping the inky surface of a tablet
tapping tapping
her afternoon face appears suddenly
at my shoulder as she slips me a kiss
tapping at the portals of my soul
the sun having set
the trees now only rustling shapes framed
against the stars
the lush green leaves
burn with the fainter glow of distant suns
as my heart burns faintly for distant loves
but it is my woman
her dreadlocked patchouli scented body
wrapped around me
its her in my heart
its her who burns brightly in me
who ignites me
to burn with the golden glow of
a setting sun
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 11:19 AM UTC
I shalt not fall in love with the hand of one god
For many oversee my world.
Nor listen to the lies that dance off your tongue
In a way so distant and curled.
See I live in a way so peaceful and kind
As these spirits around me say.
For seeing through the eyes of one powerful man
Is like selling my soul to the grave.
Your love-
Your captain-
Your savior of beast-
Although whoever betrays him is of ways-
Of crafts and horrid slurs to keep
Me locked in with devilish dismays.
The fate that lies if I do not drift
In love with the hand of your kind.
Of a man that promises all and hell
If I don't sync with the ways of his mind.
So go on and tell me the ways I should see
Although I feel it deep in my heart.
For if I succumb to the ways of your world
My life will diminish and fall apart.
Surrender my soul for one who sees all as sin?
I'd rather vanish into the depths-
Of whirl winds and tragic mystics that spin
Down the treacherous dismays of man.
So go on and tell me the things I should feel
Just because you were brought up that way.
For it doesn't mean I shall appeal to his eyes
For mine turned opaquely to grey.
If hell is what I'm given for my love
Of many spirits and gods-
Then let this reign of "darkness" devoir
My body-
My heart-
And my mind.
Alysia Marie 2015 ©
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 2:38 PM UTC
to all of my readers, i wish you a very happy valentines day...with all of my love and some patchouli scented hippy hugs for you...((((((HIPPY HUGS))))))
Feb 14, 2014
Feb 14, 2014 at 12:28 PM UTC
She's my mountain rose
& I'm her blue spruce.
I'd love to spread
her patchouli
all over
my ylang ylang,
then kiss her cypress,
give her a bit of my goldenrod
& lay in the lemongrass
holding hands
to view
the star anise
wasting thyme.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 8:28 AM UTC
Chastity wore pretty tiny flowers
in her spiraling dreads,
a fragrance of patchouli
wafted from her lithe form,
she was genuine spirit.
Her sister Divinity
loved summer dresses
and had even tighter dreads,
butterflies twirled
around her regal head.
They were the coolest sisters
on Mother Earth
& every time
they visited a forest,
they practiced
a wonderful habit.
They'd sing & chant
& dance & hug
aspens & pines,
chestnuts & sumacs,
hickorys & walnuts,
cherries & birches.
No joke, they even
hugged mighty oaks.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 9:55 PM UTC
Ophelia - now - might I see you
with your unwashed grey sweater and torn blue jeans
dirty brown hair much longer now -
you will not smell like you did in June,
patchouli oil, and stale cigarettes now -
and you'll look at me with dull grey eyes
and your smile so forced you ask
how I'm doing
mad gleam in my eye returned
I see the river running, long and black,
I see the flowers you never received from hateful men -
you must hate me for leaving you behind
I was obsessed with the highway
and you with staying home -
I will say hello and look away
Ophelia -
watch the flowers going downstream,
fallen now, and brown, all brown
wilted memories of a past
you cannot hold forever -
last time I saw you was December
you were so... strange
you seemed so cold with your new wanton obsessions -
so unlike the shimmering of the summer
I think, sometimes, you must have hated me then
I don't care -
I wear clean clothes now and shave every day.
It's almost March;
I can feel warm sunlight on my shoulders.
I do not hate you -
the ring you gave me is gone -
I must have lost it somewhere
and your necklace shattered on a cold tile floor,
still, I think of you, sometimes,
but the flowers are dead
the flowers wilted so long ago
Ophelia
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
White and blue now move to orange,
in flames that lick the tempting air,
dancing round a burning fire,
lost in thought- without a care,
Gypsy hearts they move in rhythms,
as fire builds with stomping feet,
the wafting smell of soft patchouli,
hints of savory with the sweet,
Tousled locks they flow on shoulders,
as arms and hands are lifted high,
clapping, moving to the pulses,
hearts are upward to the sky,
Many nights with many dances,
to dance before Aurora's throne,
as magic colors still transforming,
in sky of midnight - moon of bone,
To dance with many or to dance alone,
It doesn't matter -
just dance.
Ma Cherie © 2017
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 7:53 AM UTC