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"pheremonal" poems
The gaping space, witch could and should loiter inhabited by scaly, flaky, soft, smooth, oily, dry, tender to wit homogenous, sits idly occupied by The Plastic Distractants. The Plastic Distractants inhibit that sense of calm heeded by bona fide eye contakt brushing flake to flake (in a) pheremonal pow wow. It is one thing to have one thing it is another thing to have many things. While the world shreds and slivers clostrophobically choking for breathing space we pose underground with the sun. Remember what it means to look someone in the eye with meaning in the stare.
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Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 11:51 AM UTC
Gawk
A hawk is hatched in the harlequin hush inside the walls of library books in their incendiary shelves incline invitingly in carnal stories in words that leave us billowing smoke in scenes of innuendo... A bird of prey in flight even in a stationary perch, he is a glorious sight eyes full of limpid thoughts, & search, levitating litany like taboo thrown across the room questions and detours from his gaze uphoric pheremonal ***** My ***** is in a penury of vigor, my skin / proving red-rushed weaknesses for just his adonis sight for just one fantasy night... The humid walls, with their olden and unbiased silences attend my quickened qualms attend my entirety of suddenly needing to be caught in his talons' violences craving to be the meal ~ in a hawk's sight, flesh ripped in lushious strips to be inside his mouth, to feel my digestion... We match growling stares, feel the quicksilver pulse, hesitation and realization the super nova flares heating my middle, hardening my fiddle creating new sensations and worlds of wicked inflections a warm nest to rest, after the S                          E                          X... A nervous breath, as he stands abducting his hardbound knowledge odyssies in exquisite arms a twinkle in his bestial-brown eyes a pause, for crumbs to be sprinkled on the path to reprise, a piece of paper with a numeric surpise; a name: "ANGEL" flashing collegiate goods, an endangered understanding a naughty smile--a young mouth, and i am a V-formation heading for warmer south... A hawk is hatched from the harlequin hush of the Flamingo Library, i am ready to fly beyond loneliness and February, catch urgency's godspeed to Angel in the tradewinds of our testosterone his invitation scribbled on a corner piece of notes i am guessing / i'm in control i am the words unspoken in these pages, in dusty scrolls in the volumes on the walls our endangered understanding If he is there and nothing's there... still must follow my volcanic hopes meandering so to speak that entangling his and mine / tongue... how like a hawk in Spring i am sprung... (and understanding how endangered I become)
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Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 12:45 PM UTC
ENDANGERED UNDERSTANDING (Spoken Word #3)
A hawk is hatched in the harlequin hush inside the walls of library books in their incendiary shelves incline invitingly in carnal stories in words that leave us billowing smoke in scenes of innuendo... A bird of prey in flight even in a stationary perch, he is a glorious sight eyes full of limpid thoughts, & search, levitating litany like taboo thrown across the room questions and detours from his gaze uphoric pheremonal ***** My ***** is in a penury of vigor, my skin / proving red-rushed weaknesses for just his adonis sight for just one fantasy night... The humid walls, with their olden and unbiased silences attend my quickened qualms attend my entirety of suddenly needing to be caught in his talons' violences craving to be the meal ~ in a hawk's sight, flesh ripped in lushious strips to be inside his mouth, to feel my digestion... We match growling stares, feel the quicksilver pulse, hesitation and realization the super nova flares heating my middle, hardening my fiddle creating new sensations and worlds of wicked inflections a warm nest to rest, after the S                          E                          X... A nervous breath, as he stands abducting his hardbound knowledge odyssies in exquisite arms a twinkle in his bestial-brown eyes a pause, for crumbs to be sprinkled on the path to reprise, a piece of paper with a numeric surpise; a name: "ANGEL" flashing collegiate goods, an endangered understanding a naughty smile--a young mouth, and i am a V-formation heading for warmer south... A hawk is hatched from the harlequin hush of the Flamingo Library, i am ready to fly beyond loneliness and February, catch urgency's godspeed to Angel in the tradewinds of our testosterone his invitation scribbled on a corner piece of notes i am guessing / i'm in control i am the words unspoken in these pages, in dusty scrolls in the volumes on the walls our endangered understanding If he is there and nothing's there... still must follow my volcanic hopes meandering so to speak that entangling his and mine / tongue... how like a hawk in Spring i am sprung... (and understanding how endangered I become)
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Her scent- a supernova Wafting with bells on Come hither, come hither A subtle pheremonal display Lust, love, instant attraction Racing hearts in sync And we were madly, so madly. Hand in hand Wandering whitened cobblestone Owing it all to the moon Exhilaration and spontaneity My eyes targeting hers like a bullseye An unbreakable pining gaze Hops and falling deep Elbows on scarred wood An empty universe Except for you and me Liquid angel- entrancing Beguiling me, enticing me What a mere drop used to do Before the binary stars exploded.
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Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 4:36 PM UTC
Supernovae
It's something personal, it's pheremonal & primal, coat me, drape over me, I want your warmth, let me taste your sweet musk.
0
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 6:33 AM UTC
It's Something Personal