"sillouettes" poems
In your Sillouette,
Painted Gold, against Magic Curtain.
This Oz Stage, Hiding our bodies.
I am lingering.
You are gilded beautiful
Bare ******* pointed at Chandeliers
****** Capstones sealing perfect Arches
I am a foot protruding from your sculpture
In mustard.
I am that blot behind your Hip Bone
Cold Draft from the window
Opened Opposite the Magic curtain
A breath of ocean waves
Our bodies casting illusions
In ripples of Moonlit fabric
Dancing around our sillouette.
Black Moss collects in the shape of your tattoos
Silk screen thighs,
Underbust Corset
where the breeze whispered
where my fingertips wrapped your hipbones.
growing where we Calloused
In our Roughs
In our trenches
Rubbing Leather against Silk
You invested in our common interest.
A mirror, Fastened to the Ceiling.
Reflecting Our Two Loudest Vices.
Ownership,
And your body.
I love the Chips in your paint.
I hate the man who painted you.
infected by Tunnel vision Voyeurism
Sick with a Spiderweb brain
Spinning from your imperfections.
You are so, perfect.
Artists come from all over
To watch the magic curtain.
Your Golden arching Back.
My Mustard Toes.
we all look at you,
even you look at you.
we do not Blink.
Just stare, position ourselves.
behind this curtain.
Our callouses grow like the black moss
bodies marble under ocean pressure
erode from the chill winds
Your archaic exhibitionism
Carved From Counting Gazes
Mustard eternally pondering
why our sillouettes, different colors
Drawn by the same moon,
Casted on the same cloth.
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 6:31 PM UTC
A cloud of black on a landscape
Of purity, raindrops of red
Falling staining the floor below.
They move collectively , but the
Seniority is but one. They sense
The shifting of light to dark as
The moon bathes upon their
Dark silhouette.
Singing upon the wind, to the
Sky, they call to their pack, as
The hunt begins, they guide,
Manoeuvre their intended
To that point of no return.
The white shaded with moments
That pass, the quarry is at that
Moment, where life becomes
Death, when last glimpses
Of white teeth tearing upon
Its delicate flesh.
A moment and then it's over
They howl upon the wind,
Hunger still cradles their
Insides. Baffled, puzzled, as
To what was done. It released
Itself to the wind, fell to the teeth
Of the cliff and then was gone.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 12:38 PM UTC
i found out
another friend is
Sad
with a capital 's', with capital weight
heaviness, of a bomb dropped
into glowing memoriam
sorrys and thanks, in equal measures
the world is
a little off kilter, a little
straighter
now
the sky still disassociates with the earth, in the morning
a membrane of white
stitched by avian sillouettes
awhiles whittling into brittle tones
paneling the arching of our spines
and
the italicized whir points out the
jagged smoothness
of sighs
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 4:28 PM UTC
Reflecting back in blur
Images with a recently forgotten destination
Sillouettes who once knew, but no more
What briefly seemed like pure light, to their eyes
Reciting with passion what was written in stone
Missed the signs to their own chisel
Thought they could already see Ithaca through the glass
Excited they were, although they'd heard it was of no importance
Sailing steady towards the future
Stumbling, but not looking back
Time has come that they can only wonder
How enchantingly those creatures could have ever sung?
Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 10:05 PM UTC
Violent verdant windows of shattered glass,
Sharp walls of flesh illustrate the oozing of lust.
Beneath the anguish of sillouettes and glammer,
Lie the wolf’s gazing demand for power.
Crimson crowns carry the stench of death,
Flowing deep from within the cavern of man.
The belly of this beast utters Hell’s Horizon,
A howl of sadistic victory and damnation.
Mar 26, 2019
Mar 26, 2019 at 9:09 PM UTC
you let your body go heavy,
limp,
you are draped over me.
your broad shoulders slightly rise and fall to the rhythm of your breath
bare skin to bare skin
the minuscule space between our sillouettes
radiates heat and energy
the moonlight shines in through the window
just enough to see the freckles sprinkled on your back
the sheets are tangled
at the tips of our toes
my little toes
and your larger ones
i drift in and out of sleep
each time remembering that i have you
and my lungs fill with satisfaction
and peace
you are slightly too heavy for me to sleep deeply
but i never want the weight of you to leave my frame
Oct 16, 2016
Oct 16, 2016 at 10:33 PM UTC
Love is not simple, love is not easy...
Emotions are frustrating and turn you crazy!
Love has many forms, there's more than one figure.
Love is intimate, a passion with a trigger.
Love is no tale, Princess to Queen.
So do not believe everything you have seen...
Love is no word for happiness make no mistake, but without it we are sillouettes, no emotions, so fake!
Love won't come easy, so try real hard...
Because losing your lover will shatter your heart to shards!
Don't think twice when making an effort.
For when you're on that knee and hoping for that yes, nothing will **** more than not have tried your best...
Love is a choice, a decision and answer!
Never be shy, become a chancer x
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 7:17 PM UTC