"smoothness" poems
Thy fingers make early flowers
of all things.
thy hair mostly the hours love:
a smoothness which
sings,saying
(though love be a day)
do not fear,we will go amaying.
thy whitest feet crisply are straying.
Always
thy moist eyes are at kisses playing,
whose strangeness much
says;singing
(though love be a day)
for which girl art thou flowers bringing?
To be thy lips is a sweet thing
and small.
Death,thee i call rich beyond wishing
if this thou catch,
else missing.
(though love be a day
and life be nothing,it shall not stop kissing).
51.2k
I am hungry
and it is reflected
in the contours
of every inch
of skin
every cell a-flutter
tiny wings and heartbeats
activated within
right down to
the ribosomes and
kidney-shaped
mitochondria
right up through epidermis
woven as threads
of softness penetrating
your inner hard, dark parts
causing them
to melt into
my light
I am craving
to feel your
absolute heart's
raging core
my aching flesh burning,
my heart, wrapped in
a love
so pure
My need to be
devoured surfaces
in smoothness,
at a glance
You feel it acutely,
no room for doubt
or subtle chance
I am ravenous
for muscle-worked arms
(arms that could easily
try to break)
to be supremely
gentle as you part
my thighs like the ocean
and sacredly partake
the slickness of your tongue
in my feminine grace
the stains of my love
drenching
your noble face
your eyes on mine
as I sharply breathe
need to hold your
head stroke your
hair know that for me
the king takes off that
garland of gold
breaking free of
all symbols of status
the only real treasure
the queen who
gives to him,
and who he now pleasures
and I let myself be consumed
with the reverence
of a psalm
my love pouring into you
healing your hurts,
like a balm
in this private landscape
we are the most
ferocious of tender
estuaries
in an eternal vista
in this hour of somewhere,
the sea hauls us in
like ancient creatures,
bringing the fossils
back to life
in lustrous foam
as they
inch their way
into the spirals
that we
feel we could
call
home
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 12:57 PM UTC
"Patience," flapped the Butterfly's wings
"Patience," said Thomas Edison
"Patience," said Abraham Lincoln
"Patience," said the Diamond's sparkle
"Patience," said the Pearl's smoothness
"Patience," said Columbus' sailors
"Patience," the monks prayed
"Patience," the Mountains yawned
"Patience," Maturity recollected
"Patience," Healing nodded
"Patience," Insight demanded!
"Patience," winked the stars of the Milky Way
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 10:40 PM UTC
I've loved many boys
With different colored eyes
But the way I remember them is
By the shape of their hands
The way their thumbs curved
Or how their palms felt against my own
The weight of them on my thighs
Or how they ran through my hair
The times they zipped up my dress
And settled on my shoulders
The moments when they grazed my own
As they handed me my keys
The motion of them as they spoke
And the motionless of them when they were silent
The smoothness of them in the beginning
And the calluses after time had passed
Sometimes, I forget the faces of these boys
Or the way their voice sounded over the phone
But I'll never forget the way it felt
With their hands intertwined in my own
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 11:45 PM UTC
who’s most afraid of death?thou
art of him
utterly afraid,i love of thee
(beloved)this
and truly i would be
near when his scythe takes crisply the whim
of thy smoothness. and mark the fainting
murdered petals. with caving stem.
But of all most would i be one of them
round the hurt heart which do so frailly cling….)
i who am but imperfect in my fear
Or with thy mind against my mind,to hear
nearing our hearts’ irrevocable play—
through the mysterious high futile day
an enormous stride
(and drawing thy mouth toward
my mouth,steer our lost bodies carefully downward.
14k
My neck is a nest
The warmth in it an ever present creature that
Oscillates and breeds and collects
And attracts creatures that do not
My neck is a nest
That doesn't just need to nurture but
To be nurtured and
Touched and kissed and electrified
In order to keep that warmth
My neck is a nest
That rests on an unsteady beating branch
And hangs under a filament-ridden sky
Neither of which can ever agree
But to disagree on whether
Niceness or smoothness or alcohol or hidden agendas
Should have anything to do with
How the warmth is kept
My neck is a nest
Full of hatchlings that have already
Dropped and soared
Dropped and stopped
Dropped and swooped at the last second
Where they are now
I have only an inkling.
My neck is a nest
That wishes to blend with the
Twigs and leaves and eggshells
That become it and
Be humbly content with who
It wants to attract and collect and warm.
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 9:06 PM UTC
Deep brown color, messy as it’s eaten.
Like something that failed to crunch.
Brittle yet soft, rough and delicate.
It can be fudgy, chewy or cake-like, topped with walnuts or apricot glaze.
A heavy horse failing to hike the high mountain of crisp.
Hard on the outside, but not as taut as chocolate-chip cookies, or M&M;’s,
A fragile strength that breaks with subtle touch.
Smooth and moist inside, melted chocolate held together.
Created solely for a royal’s mouth to taste,
Slowly dissolving, sea foam ****** by the damp sand,
A guilty pleasure I cannot live without.
The brownie becoming a beautiful bouquet blossoming
In my chocolate tinted mouth.
It cures whatever ails you,
The flavor empowering any mist of dullness or bitterness.
Forgetting about everything, as he mixed the batter
Creating the perfect combination of smoothness, sweetness,
And the creamy after-taste.
Our favorite thing to bake together.
Friday evening we scurried to the kitchen, creating our own baking contest.
His hazel eyes, swirling with the batter poured in circles,
His lips, whistling to the beautiful sight of brownies, plumping as they bake.
Days later, we would come back to that kitchen,
With the scent of freshly baked brownies still lingering in the air.
We would look at each other’s deep brown eyes
Like the brownies we baked and enjoyed together.
His lips, a wallop of sweetness.
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 7:52 PM UTC
A*rt speaks words unheard,
The feelings paints pictures unseen.
It is beauty* and drastic ideas combined
A mix of pleasure and pain
All experiences add a different taste
Rough edges *and smoothness entwined.
Touch it and fall into a dream
The artist lived and lives within*.
Sep 27, 2019
Sep 27, 2019 at 2:04 PM UTC
My Vellum
Alluring and demure
In your virginity
Never yet
Creased nor crumpled
Your tight young corners
Remain stiff and pert
In their newness
Your long lithe sides
Tense for my careful touch
Lest blood be spilt
My gold nib
I dip
In midnight ink
Piercing its surface skin
And lift
It drips
One
Two
Black
Secrets
Back to their bottle
My hand is poised
Over your pristine smoothness
And with calm precision
I carve broad majuscules
That twist and cut
To hairlines of breathtaking
Intimate intricacy
Quick teasing serifs
Long lingering descenders
Strokes of tactile
Joy
Then stand back
Empty
In wonder at
Your calligraphic beauty
Mar 21, 2011
Mar 21, 2011 at 3:16 AM UTC
Your seduction has been unfair,
Though you could not help it, my dear.
My heart melts with the thoughts you share
And aloe smoothness of your hair.
Executed so ruthlessly,
You constantly seducing me,
With love given innocently,
You did it all so carelessly.
I’m smitten and I can’t let go,
Seduced by all the things you know,
You made my desire overflow,
Just by affection that you show.
I’m a slave to your seduction,
Mastermind of will’s abduction,
From our very introduction,
I was lost to your seduction.
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 10:04 PM UTC
A buttercup was beautifying
for the afternoon dance
her cheeks were flushed with water
the garden sprinkler had thrown on.
Her petals were fully stretched to a softness
that even the butterflies slipped when they trod upon.
the sun beams bounced off on the mirrored smoothness
and a bumblebee looked on hovering above with second thoughts
envying her golden locks.
She bathed in the sunlight turning every cheek for the warm rays
batting her long anthers dipped with thick orange powder.
I watched her shake her hips to the folk wind tunes
tip toeing into my heart
slowly
her yellow liquid lined eyes delving mine
making me smile
when I have almost forgotten how.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC
That unforgiving metal.
Within that unforgiving metal lies all the things you cannot forgive about yourself.
Those freckles on your chin that you wish would expand into a constellation so that you may give them names and so that you may give them meaning,
within that unforgiving metal.
The Greeks threw their hands towards the heavens
and deemed cosmic accidents worthy of the names of gods,
although within them lie no gifts.
Like a bedazzled and jaded Tiresias impostor one stumbles upon
on their way home,
who sees nothing but the tangible
and tells all but the truth.
Still, he is clad in diamonds and gold
and thus has value in trade.
Beauty triumphs over mendacity
and mendacity over reality.
But the freckles that mar your skin,
that you cannot transfigure into the most meaningless of stars or the crudest of answers,
sit there defiantly,
waiting to be acknowledged and waiting to be named.
You lean your forehead forward to rest against the cool smoothness of its idle twin.
You could swear you saw her sneer at you.
The freckles do not budge—they will consume you whole.
Aug 20, 2021
Aug 20, 2021 at 6:41 PM UTC
I toed the ocean’s green.
It took me to his face,
a match in colors,
his eyes and this water
both hypnotizing,
like a moth to a flame.
But the sand was coarse
unlike his smoothness,
coat after creamy coat of membrane thin
porous loveliness, to let him live and breathe.
It looked unreal -
him a doll, and this sea
a painting -
‘twas all too much beauty
to encompass in one place,
one body.
That’s where balance storms in,
for the water she roars
she shouts and she tugs.
His eyes tug too, at my heart.
With matching habits
they pull and smash me
then carry me out till someone
cares to find me.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 11:09 AM UTC
I turn my head to the most beautiful sight of all - the sapphire, green-brown, grey ocean.
(Breath In)
The thick blue ocean that rolls, churns, and glistens.
And the glisten slices, the glistening currents. The ripples that move the ripples that have no ending or beginning.
(Breathe Out)
____
Every shape, form, and structure captured in the liquid.
It smooths out.
It rounds out.
It rolls out, it crashes down.
It’s smooth clarity. It’s smoothness it beyond me.
Its beauty is truly found within its movement. It’s constant change, exchange between all forms;
Connections throughout,
Different experiences of the same object throughout,
And out and out.
I see this giant blue gulp, of sea of truly magnificent bodies of water held in a single space.
As I see the land overturn over:
In new shapes, colors, lengths, and everything that contrasts one thing to another
I just see so much brightness, dimness, and something that overturns into another.
,,,,
I can not believe this sea
How it makes that sound
And when nothing is around
It just profound,
How every jewel of the dancing ocean
is a collection of drops
connecting forms throughout
_____
When I feel the truth of this beauty
I see,
the ocean, something I never created
It was there to touch us
To hold us
This ocean was made to believe in us.
Without realizing it I just fell into a deep sleep.
I fell into something so deep.
I felt the ocean's arms
embracing me
Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 9:51 PM UTC
I'm having an affair with words
They take away my breath
Words tell me what I need to hear
Without missing a step
Words work on my emotions
I'm transcended by their displays
There's legitimate anticipation
Within each and every page
When I look away for too long
There is a longing that takes place
The wonder of conclusion
Vanished, without a trace
Words help me to liberate my own ideas
In the subtlest of ways
Or when my faith seems in doubt
I am enlightened by a phrase
Their sense of humor is unequaled
Words teach us and inform
They can be as cold as ice
Or soothing, kind, and warm.
Words hold many of life's answers
To questions that we seek
When written, we can convey
Much more than when we speak
Words empower, words are strong
They help decipher right from wrong
Words can guide you,
Lead you home
Words are your friends
When you're alone
Words can help, or they can harm you
Depending on their use
Words can fool you, or misguide you,
Lie, or tell the truth
What I love, are words' transparency
Written right there in black and white
If misconstrued, words can lead to tragedy
Although the stories' plot is trite
We must take part in the mastery
Of each and every words avail
So that the notions we wish to ration out
Are nothing but...
The finest of detail.
Precision personified
Never at a loss for words
Or ****** with a mouth for war
That's when devastation's heard
Instead, a calming smoothness
Inspiration from inside
This, in my opinion, is the greatest use of words
And the peak of humanities pride.
Nov 29, 2015
Nov 29, 2015 at 3:14 AM UTC
lines,
the curves of your neck, your eyelashes that flutter.
color,
the brown in your eyes, the barely there pink of your chapped lips.
texture,
the bumps on your cheeks, the smoothness of your hands.
space,
the width of your shoulders, the space between your eyebrows.
shape,
the way your shadow looks as the spotlight's on you.
van gogh, da vinci, munch, and michelangelo,
they'd all be ashamed,
for they could never make art in the form of you.
Nov 28, 2016
Nov 28, 2016 at 1:13 AM UTC
Lymphoma
There was a fundraising run for lymphoma and other cancers
A little notice for it on top of the garbage can
at a home grown Jamba Juice right off the BART in Berkeley
It hit home: what I was up against
People don't run through the streets casually
and my cat had lymphoma
I couldn't find him last night for the first time
He had his weekly appointment and I brought in
something that didn't look at all like he was the week before
They paged the vet and she came in
saying thing like he needed an IV and tests and
wasn't there nothing else to do
didn't she say that
he needs hospitalization--his liver
we can't tell you what to do
but it would all go in a circle and come back
to a suffering being who had
come to the end of what science could do for him
what she was trying to tell me in her barrage of words
came through loud and clear
They brought him in
with a blanket and a catheter
and he struggled until he got warm and then rested
I wanted him to see me, as the last thing he saw in this world
She took the three syringes out of her white coat
Don't hurt him, just don't hurt him
my only request
There was no pain
Only relaxation, sleep and then at last no heartbeat
Her ability, her smoothness of execution was perfect
and he went limp in my arms
not suffering
The nurse took his body away
"It's the last gift we can give them" she said
and I imagined a man, a stereotypical
image of a man pacing back and forth in a white coat in front
of a lecture hall full of vet students saying that
exact thing and there was a serious air in the classroom and some wrote this down,
it was so true, sound, capable and final
but this woman said it
this veterinarian from Michigan
and through my tears and grief
there was some kind of undercurrent
of relief, that there is no more pain for him
He no longer suffers
and I did all I could do
Jul 27, 2012
Jul 27, 2012 at 8:39 PM UTC
When words are not enough,
and the world won’t get off her back,
she dances the Devils way,
She’s a princess,
wait she’s a queen,
wait she’s an angel,
wait she’s everything,
a Goddess,
the hottest performing artist I’ve ever seen,
and she’s dancing,
dancing is her therapy,
I mean,
I’m not James Brown,
but it’s a man’s world,
even if Rihanna runs this town,
See,
she’s been suppressed all her life,
and I’m not just talking about Rihanna,
I’m talking about every girl that was ever forced to be a wife,
just to survive in this life,
she was touched by her father,
or brother or cousin,
when she was just a little girl,
I know we all wish it wasn’t,
but it is true,
so what’s a girl to do,
when she’s a clean 13 messing with The ***** Dozen,
this isn’t battle of the sexes,
this is war of the worlds,
wants to be a woman but she’s just a girl,
no No Doubt just burnt out nerves taken turns,
she never asked to be born,
with the burden of being beautiful,
but she refuses to conform,
she is attractable irrational and radical,
so when it’s all too much,
the stares and the catcalls,
the aggressive forceful touch,
the nails across her back like a blackboard,
and the moans become just white noise,
she takes it all in,
she forgives the man because he’s just a boy,
he is an angel even if he has fallen,
she takes it all in,
and she uses all of those abuses,
as the fuel with the tools which induces,
an allusive state of truth which,
allows her to move with intuitive smoothness,
and lose herself in the music morphing into what a centrifuge is,
separating fluids transforming what was otherwise useless abuses,
into a truth that cruises and confuses the stupid stooges,
she dances,
in a statement of glorious refusal to submit to their ideals,
she is more than a princess queen angel goddess,
she is fire burning up all preconceived notions of *** appeal,
the real deal,
dancing sweating cleansing her soul and her pores,
moving faster in progression refuting repression,
overcoming an obsession of oppression and knocking down all doors,
she is not a possession,
though she is possessed when,
she’s a dancing expression of how we all feel and more,
no words are enough,
she shows what we all feel,
she reveals what,
was before thinly concealed,
she is the perfect expression,
of imperfect circumstances,
she is poetic stanzas,
she is the paint on the canvas,
there is no question that she is the answer,
and all of this is made clear when she takes it all in,
let’s go of everything and dances…
∆aron L∆ Lux ∆
#strength #metoo #dancer #ballet #blackswan
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 1:48 PM UTC
she waited for him to erase her
as he put his pencil to paper
and created her
he traced the upturn of her smile
precisely picturing the laugh that proceeded
he sketched out the smoothness of her legs
intentionally illustrating the eagerness inside
he outlined the curve of her shoulders
carefully capturing the sadness contained
he shaded in the color of her hair
deliberately detailing her fallen darkness
in his eyes
she was more beautiful
than she could ever see herself
but with every stroke
she flinched
fearing that only inches away
from his creation
was her demise
Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 9:05 PM UTC
I look to the left, I look to the right
A smell pulls me to a cafe inside
Aware that I'm tired 'cause day's been long
There's nothing more for today to go wrong
I pull a chair to sit with pride
I look to the left, I look to the right
I want, I want, I want something sweet this night
People sitting, chit chatting amidst a loud song
Where else would I rather tonight belong
Waiter brings the menu, I start to read and recite
I look to the left, I look to the right
Brain wants the taste of appealing yellow bright
Yummy for my tummy, baked with crumbles
Run through the gourmet wondering where I'd stumble
Has to be creamy, textured, a heavy slice of delight
I look to the left, I look to the right
He sat by me, "Cheesecake!", he cried
It's shiny, it's delicious, it's lemon, it's moist
Cheesecake it is! There's no question of diet
Why did I not choose this first, right?
He looks to the left, I look to the right
Slides his friendly arm around, I stared back all surprised
Waiter "Here's Lemon cheesecake with crumbles white"
Put a seal of approval? Yes, we might!
We could stare at each other forever alright,
But we'd rather prefer cheesecake; to infinite
For bigger and bigger bite we fight,
As we realise this is our bestest night,
Indulged in smoothness, to heaven we confide
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 2:00 AM UTC
Stochastic perfection
Staccato smoothness
Screaming comfort
Mental duress
Gutter rat beauty
Sensory control
Primal sophistication
Mutating soul
Indecipherable pitch
Blinding vision
Deafening clarity
Reckless precision
Simplistic genius
Street-wise intellect
Monosyllabic truth
Politically incorrect
Emotional apocalypse
Raging articulation
Distorted calm
Dominating freedom
Numbingly sensitive
Inappropriate dignity
Contemplative explosion
Tempestuous tranquility
Feb 14, 2012
Feb 14, 2012 at 5:20 PM UTC
you kidding me, right?
nachos? tacos? tortilla wraps?
guacamole molé molé?
sombrero(s)...
the revised eastern european
moustache?
tequila!
that's it?
well... not if you consider
the second tier of soy boys -
the ones that drink that...
budscheiss that's
"der könig aus bier"...
one word... no... actually two:
CER-VE(H)-ZA(H) -
probably the spanish word,
that sounds better than all
the other spanish words...
what did mexíxíxíxíco give
us?
the orthodox script
of a german beer:
yeast, hops, barley, malt,
water... fizz: boom!
a fine summer's day...
mexíxíxíxíco beer?
MALTED, BARLEY...
don't ask me how the genius
figured out a smoothness
so subtle,
that you actually had to shove
a lime wedge into the neck
of the bottle...
or, as i did - buying an almost litre
sized bottle,
and a lime -
looking at this ***** goliath
at the checkout thinking:
david?
am i david?
did we really enslave such people?
david, meet goliath...
goliath wanders off like some
happy ****** giggling and brings
another strawberry milkshake
to the checkout...
so the west, enslaved these
nearing 7ft Baobabs?
king david's audacity,
nothing more...
so i buy the CO(H)-RHO-NA(H),
and a lime (30 pence a piece)...
**** no knife...
guess teeth will have to do...
shove a whole lime in bits and bites
and walk on...
seriously?
guacamole molé molé?
that's the best you can do?
drinking a beer with lime...
compared to the h'american
budscheiss?
who... apart from the japanese...
extracts alcohol...
from: ******* rice!
malted, barley...
whoever that sergio
sanchez was...
hats off to him...
sometimes it's just nice...
to take a break from the heavy cavalry,
orthodoxy brew of german
beers...
americans?
know jackshit about brewing
a decent beer...
mexicans?
they put a lime in it!
**** you have to drink it!
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 6:44 PM UTC
Hearts hurt this mourning, echoes quiet grief
For a husband-father slipped beyond autumn’s leaf
Into winter’s winds so harsh, who can bear the pains?
Yesterday his nearness felt today only his remains.
Remember love like it was, unbroken circles knew
Life’s smoothness for time as it was, he and you
Recall family’s happiness given each a measure
A Carpenter of Scripture cradles a carpenter your treasure.
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 12:47 PM UTC