The stairs slipped away under my feet.
My slippers are soggy.
Hair is hanging like fly paper, instead of flies it's snaring run away raindrops.
Soon to be snowdrops, as is predicted.
Spring snowflakes, spring snowdrops.
Country stops, unprepared.
Nobody cared.
Perhaps they should.
Could be good.
Buckets of grit, let them be spread.
No more pretty pure white ****.
Mushy, ***** slippery slush.

C     *******************/
     H *******************/  
            A**************­**/
                   O*****************/
                        *S***********­****/
(C) LIVVI

Here come Jupiter child,
You can hear the flowers crying as they plead for her to stay a while,
She just collided with and intergalactic asteroid,
But things were only created never destroyed,
In the dark cool tunnels she found some pretty moon shrooms,
sheltering growing seahorses wrapped in loose water droplet cocoons,
Now towards earth you hear her come,
Within the clouds she beats her tribal drums,
The ocean sways and swells to the time of her rhythm and sound,
Reaching deep into the sea forest to whales traveling homebound,
She wears stars framed in turquoise,
Like the kokopelli she gives birth to planets with grace and poise,
Here comes Jupiter child, dread locks wound with comets,
extracts from the universe, she mixes matter-less tonics,
Recipes rooted deep in wizardry,
she borrows knowledge from indians and aztecs to cure all misery,
Her meteor showers made of her salty tears,
Are earth's dream catcher, snaring all nighttime fears.

like thighs

                   (shes got 'em)

them thick as ******* thighs
all skin and creamy
and the backs o' her knees taste
so good
                      (like sugar shes got 'em)

and that dark little spider web
o' ink shes got coming up her
shoulders out over her clavicles
shes got her neat little muscles
under it all bunching and loosing
muscles when she's (head down
biting 300 thread count) her hands
don't lie gripping and grabbing
snaring sheets and,
  

                                          ,
                   ­                                                              ,

Lift me up,
let me drift on a tide of rising air.
I am strung below an ******* rush of burning air,
at the mercy of the pilot,
let me ride the sky before I die,
Sprinkle me with pepper dust,
not to make my eyes sore,
but to make me feel alive.
let me feel the sensation of the zephyr cruising past my face.
Enter my vision stage left,
the scene from above looking downwards,
savanna flowing,
rolling out protected and free,
as free as me,
just plain old me,
the lioness in the basket drifts,
she's watching the lioness snaring today's tea.
and so the delicate zebra falls,
as of today, she can run no more.
The lioness in the basket,she sips her tea from an old plastic mug,drifting onward,
regardless.
(C) Livvi

spirited ferret
rare, ear hair tipped white
frightened pip carefully snaring
darting pairs flipping
clipped wings, carted
shipped riggings sing
lark songs
darkness brings
wronged Nips
angered and singing
ears ring banging hangers
tearing string Narcs protest
ingesting *** freeing boxes
rocks bling
****** tracks shear hearts
parked rack blesses
black guests

I want to be a nice guy,
flower-bringer,
keeper of pens and candy,
love and smiles.

I want to drive without screaming,
to wait without scheming
someone's demise,
to float high above the clouds
without dreaming
of being
somewhere else.

But it's hard, you see,
to speak bureaucratic,
to see through the static,
to laugh and wave as though
life is a turkey day parade.

Because of you.
You, and we and they;
the wrinkles in our characters
that push us away.  
The chaos and control,
the IEDs and "low food security,"
how I wish I knew why we
came to this place, this
sticky web we weave,
snaring each other with
our needs.

But little things mean a lot;
the flowers,
the pens and candy,
the open doors and
open lanes on the road ahead,
each gesture a brick,
smashing through those glass walls
we build around ourselves,
until it all comes crashing down.

Wolf!

Laid upon his bed,
Awake,
Hark,
Sound of confusion screeching,
Canines bared,
Salivating,
In divine thought of snaring prey,
For he is in sadistic need,
No sadism,
Only burning passion,
In need of resuscitation by nourishment,
Satisfied by the latest lamb who greeted slaughters gate!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

I watch him; beneath veiled stare,
calming his visible quivers; as he
masks desire in slow breaths,
lips tremble beggary evident with
tease

tongue flicks awaiting a scintilla of
moisture; I squirm in anticipation,
he's on his knees, eyes light up with
devourment

ache arises with heat of yearn; tongue
brushes skin; teeth nibble and breath
quickens snaring me within ecstasies
storm

captured within his gaze, one finger
slowly outlines lips as hand travels length
of thigh slowly enticing, hornily inviting as
muskiness enthralls

and...

I become addicted to his slow teasing;
every curve finger lollygags easing them
one at a time in creamy deluge; to mouth
I bring them tasting me

frenzied...

screaming his name as tip of tongue finds
my ache begging for release; lust filled
moans escape, arching against his
throb; rising hips, meeting each ******

piercing...

deeper, letting him in; riding his rhythm;
ignited in his burn, drawn into sweet
ecstasy

surrendering...

in slow motion...

loved profoundly...

watching him sultrily...

hunger no longer veiled...

She stands there listening. She sets her snares snaring Knowing she is a love genius. you know where, she never don't.

She has no baby there. She has a child there. There is no need for a phrase like in other words. She loves only one boy.

She's a settled woman.

Men make love to her sensual riches. None of them are in charge of her britches She tells the truth, and forgives She doesn't need to do such things though.

You forget, she is a settled woman.

She's an artisan. Always knew the talent of giving from her father. That man admitted his lies. Even after death I will not just be a user of you, neither.

Nothing she has done has been labor for him

One man. One Man. None brilliant enough to accept her. Even after leaving her with  one up front.

Before one. She's a settled woman. And few settlers, are love settlers.

As short as the man closes the window. This settled woman, will stay forevermore.

Clamp trapped
**** tricking
Thighs never closed
On her face
In her hair
In between her toes
Clamp trapped
**** snaring
Legs never shut
Gaze in to her soul less eyes
you'll see a ******* ****

And they say we are the mad ones. Rebellious in spirit, and reckless in life. We walk with fire beneath our feet, careless about everything. They say our eyes are blindfolded from reality and we live in a dream. Burdened by their words, we find ourselves following their black ties and white lies. We begin to see with their obscured eyes and hear with their clouded ears. But I say to you, do not fall prey to their snaring teeth. They do not make you, create you, or shape you. We are the pearl of mother earth; a beacon of light bestowed on those in the dark. Tumultuous and free, we are creating a world of color in front of us. Hold the torch up high and set fire ablaze to our trail. Make love your religion and insanity your hymn.  Live vicariously through words, poems, music, and the soft whispers of another. Open the books to your lives and begin writing. Do not swallow society’s propaganda or be tamed by their whip.  You are spirited, talented, and wild with passion. They will give you a map with lines and arrows. Unabashedly you will throw it away; your compass lies near your heart and will guide you from here. Nestle all fears in your coven. Fear keeps bad company and chases away your dreams. Capture your dreams and bear them upon your chest. They are the scapegoat from reality. Love as if you never have before, for it is the only thing that holds us together. Without it, we are mere beings living in a structured frame. When you wake, hold each day as its own. We are wise, beautiful, and simply wonderful. Sing a tune, laugh continuously, dance circles around strangers, and kiss a friend.  Be joyous. But most importantly, be mad.

have i, or letters, known so well
the knowing of your words when
so thick with verbs you jangle
meticulously raw spent kernels
of your swiftly lustful wings
     bursts ripe and halting smoothly
over shoulders fingers' hands
that ***** and flutter.
    right, suddenly, against winter,
slowly, you are colours and glowering
ductile arms snaring.
   a song of hours lifted from *******
where between lays me and my.
my elbows and my triceps,
  electric, you writhing sapling, you
sprig and blood, you are in their togetherness
you are rips flung deep and voluminous
with comely exacting fragrance
you are radiant. a star from heaven shorn
and wafts of gilt implacable violence

My birds,
a winsome kaleidoscope of colour and sound
I stand within myself in my clearing, a tiny, circular garden
filled simply with encroaching trees and
a circle of pale concrete underfoot

Marred only
with snaring daisies, quiet
allure, and I take the time to romance the colours I behold so dearly
as they swim through my blurred, jarring vision and as I
melt wholly into the river beside me.

My garden is the only good left in this world
especially now that I have left it.

death is mean
as mean as it gets
snaring precious souls
in hateful nets
pulling them down
to the realm of the dead
not caring what was
or was not unsaid
destroying human flesh
vicious and cruel
choking all hope
of any renewal
while death feasts on
the flesh of those around you
live now to the fullest
before it pulls you to the ground too.

Smooth sun slides across the cerulean sky
And reaching trees drip gleaming arias
Into wilting snow.
Tears of winter course down channeled trunks
As snaring frost recedes into time
Memory still aglow.

It is only a big fool that marries from a matriarchal family
And a heavy-weight duffer marrying from the matriarchal clan
There is always a poisonous cobra, mamba and adder in the matriarchal
Beauty. Snaring like calypso to thrash the callow ridden odyssey in the lover
As it went for the stooges in Kenya blind to the colubrine station falling in love
With daughters, spinsters, wenches, damsels and brunetes of matriarchal heritage
They were swallowed by the inherent colubrine queen at the bottom of matriarchy
It swallowed them all, lawyers, warriors, merchants, politicians, beggars, billionaires,
Lordships of top-notch corporations, gurus of research, legends of foot-ball, din magnates
Negroes, Asians, Britons, Teutonic, Luos, Mulmbe men, Mijikenda and all that had money,
Their kinsmen and tribes now grieve in a song,
Chanting the song of loss in my mother tongue;
Sialile papa!sialile papa! Sicha esirove!
Sialile yaya!sialile yaya! Sicha esirove!
Wanangali wa wabaseve,Niiye wamulile!
Emenyele buli abira! yakhaba mukisumu!
Ese beve! ese beve! ese beve!ese beve!

By-Alexander Opicho
(From Lodwar, Kenya)
Mail-opichoalexander@gmail.com

On golden wings of blazing fire
Burnished with colours of desire
The angel Lennon grafts, aspires
With beauty suffice to be sung to lyres
I let my mind swim with golden sight
Climbed his wings, took nascent flight
Skies burnished with colours of delight
Aura in the sparkling night
To stratosphere I swooped, sweet soar
With that boy irresistible to adore
Ferried to seismic heavenly shores
As inspiration from the ether pours
We twisted, twirled beyond stratosphere
Where earthen angels rain their tears
Untainted by bludgeon of times years
Immortal dears soothe mortal fears
All four John Blake Buddha and Ganesh
Hearts with luscious light enmeshed
To them all pray in their distress
For mercy, pity, peace and bless
Upon a light beam we met angels of the sky
Chasing light that follows where those bonny angels fly
Mesmerised as they pirouette resplendently
Sirens snaring mortals to hear sweet eternity
Trumpet my arrival as I stand with Shiva, God
Pensive at the font of time, his wisdom I applaud
The true divine creator hidden behind religious fraud
Of his sublime divinity I, pilgrim, am assured
Then to cosmic churning to hear divinely truth
The music madly burning with its beauty rare forsooth
Transcendent destination borne of sultry spiritual path
And now the wisdom of heaven I in earnest surely hath
The churning music sang to me:
NO YOU, NO I, ONLY ONE HEART, WE
Embroils with my mind seismically
As truth knell out resplendently
Ascended from that churning ocean
In all its glorious commotion
To Kali dance in incessant motion
Ending my hearts trepidation
Vesuvian woman in golden O
Hath me mesmerised rapt in throe
She the deva see how she go
A heavenly rainbow to and fro
The golden O the Buddhist crown
Of enlightenment in which I drown
The snub of which the sages frown
A knowledge heart not head to own
Zoomed back to earth to take my place
As ambassador for angelic race
In us the light of love apace
A force to vanquish evil disgrace
Nirvana came a state of mind
Lucid gorgeous and refined
Time and love both intertwined
As in its clime I to the Bodhi tree bind
This my tale of an eternal door
Shown by boy irresistible to adore
He is a legend in modern lore
Sang end of war, could love no more
Saved me from a devils hand
On oppressed shore and oppressed sand
Helped a fallen spirit stand
Fixed her with his wanton wand
Lennon is the friend of sages
With wisdom felt not read from pages
Vanquish hell transcend the ages
Unlock the dark satanic cages

I should have chosen Bermuda
Triangle over making that call
But never could turn away a friend
No matter the trap
Each button of the phone snaring me
Pulling me further into this three-way
Conversation, and I, the unlucky participant
In a love triangle I became enlisted in
When my best friend’s boyfriend
Decided the center more
On his crush for me than his love in her
So the random act of all of us going to a movie
Became a ruse, and I should have never
He should have never
Picked up the phone, once he said yes
I was done for, exiled
Drifting alone on campus
Guilty of his infatuation
I should have chosen Bermuda

Turn on the television,
drive down a major street,
It's everywhere you look;
snaring you into the life of others.

Why should we pick up our pens,
our keyboards,
our cameras,
stating what you think is
and knowing what is false.

Why should we pick up the newspaper?
What good does it do?
When we always turn to gossip,
we're not learning anything new.

Why is this industry
making up stories;
Getting their business' running; yet,
making the lives of others miserable.

The Gods once sang hymns of Garland twined
Dancing nymphs steadily seducing Zeus’s mind
They sang about love, passion, and a woman scorned
For Hera, wife of Zeus, Hephaestus, his brother warned
“Aphrodite may be sweet, *****, and supple
But the two of you together will bring only trouble”
Brooding Zeus sulked, like the heroes of old
Alexander may be great but he will be BOLD

Ignoring the warning, to the glade he went
Sending a message with Mercury, his love he sent
Luna hung low over the trees that night
Fireflies flashing accenting the light
There she strode, Aphrodite the beautiful
Come here to meet Zeus, lord of the thunderbolt
“My king, with Mercury your words I read
Sweet nothings echo in my heart that bleeds
In wanting for you, I bellow the forge of my heart
My longing for you had me longing to depart”

Zeus rushed to his muse, his body filled with lust
Never stopping to consider he was betraying Hera’s trust
For the queen had played mighty Zeus, an illusion she wore
Aphrodite in image but in Hera her SCORN
Together they lay in lust passions raged
To feel his love again being all that she craved
Her moans turned to laughter, her plot complete
The nymphs turned to vines snaring his feet
“Hera, my love, do not be angered
My feelings for you were never endangered
I knew it was you from the very beginning
I was just simply curious to see the ending”

Hera wasn’t interested in any more of his lies
Like Uranus before him she would cut off his pride
Never again would he sire another *******
She would remain queen on Olympus from here on after
In celebration she cast the ******* down the mountain
Into a babbling spring where nymphs danced ’round a fountain
When suddenly an infant sprang from holy water deep
A boy was born immaculately complete
Raised by the dryad’s a man he grew
Through labors of love to prove his due

Ignorant of the boy, Hera jealously ruled Olympus
With Zeus crippled her power now limitless
Until a prophecy was issued by Apollo’s oracle
“A child born, he who is destined to wear the purple”
Worried, Hera sent Mercury down to Gaia’s shores
His mission to find the boy before he could wage his war
Too late he was, for once, he was too slow
The boy (now a man) was already in Olympus with his father in tow
“Hera, I’m here to claim my throne, father as my witness
From him I was born, a product of your sickness
Your husband you tricked, maimed, and usurped
That throne is mine and Olympus will never be yours
Then he called forth his first thunderbolt
Casting Hera into the void and ending her revolt

I discern that thy doth love, me not.
In showers of flowers, thrown only for love.
Lest my sweet heart, ne'er be forgot.
In peace, I present thee with a single melodious dove.
At thy peak of thine voice,
Where only silence be spoken,
Tongue persuasion sir, tis my choice.
Beg thee kind sir, may my heart not be broken.
Emotion in mind, a crucible of steaming steel.
Darling sweet darling, I bequest thy come hither.
A potion to snare, he that doth not feel.
Precious feelings, conjured, ne'er to wither.
Within mine cauldron, I shall brew
A potion out for snaring you.
(C) LIVVI

Stood on the corner of an avenue.
The fifth one I believe.
Watching city folk dashing by.
Buying what, I can't conceive.
Wallets are bulging.
Lucky sods.
Eyes of children open wide.
What to buy, they can't decide.

Sidewalk crammed with swarms of buzzers.
Voices echo through the streets.
Parents, children, A.n.others.
Sirens on cars.
Broads outside bars.
Outstanding lookers.
Really just hookers.
Catching eyes.
Put your tongue away.
Looks like you're snaring flies.

Meanwhile in blankets and boxes.
They sit in the rain.
Top of the subway.
Starts over again.
The rich scurry by.
All in a dash.
Avoiding the homeless.
A bit like a rash, I perceive.
Poor sods.
***** blankets.
Soggy sleeves.
On a hiding to nowhere.
Waiting for beating.

The ways of the world.
Happy Mondays,
Tragic Tuesdays,
Wonderful Wednesdays.
Thawing Thursdays.
And the rest of the week.
They're sleeping in gutters.
Labelled as nutters.
Have no bread and buttercups.
All dandelions'.
Shoppers all troll by.

They're just taking the ****.
Laughing at street folk.
Forgetting they're rich.
Not necessarily in ways of wealth.
They have health and happiness.
True love and laughter.
They have sons and daughters.
Lucky shoppers.
(c)Livvi

pry it open
      clan of lies    libido            and lily lunged persuaders  
             etching wounds                   ills upon those you itched after
        letching tightly in patterns            
               then blooming out          in a ring of your 'brothers'
                        again tightening
                     breaths oppress breathing
                             a clenching jellyfish action
                         offends the natural      teaming in a derangement
                                a loyalty of cowards    each one initiation edgy
                            paid up members     linked in ceremony
                                 a skeleton grid channeling away responsibility
                          thick distaste of the unsightly      and abrasive scent
                              of your speeching spatters
                        it's unmother worldly
                             a clutch of an abusive family thing
                      that psychology      that bonds for life
                         and spans love       in all its distrustful ******
                 violence
                     not a truth
             to mould in his raspy mouth
                this is a reputation
             repeated sellings
     this is not a truth
       this is just repetition
 persistently boomed      into adjustable history
     dying over and again
each hand that takes up the stylus
       muster evidence
   of our mad insistences
         the 'sharing' game
     snaring the population bulk
           and lording over it with
       your repulsating power on display

©  ©

               Sit if you will for a period
                 long enough in front of
              anything that moves within
               the confines of the optical
               focus and the retina will be
              hypnotised by an illusionary
                mirage which can only be
            processed by the subconscious.

                           For example.

           We have all seen those beautifully
         fashioned spider webs in the Autumn
      which are suspended between branches
       and covered in dewy droplets of nights
                             inactivity.

         De misted, these intricate strands of
           communication offer no obstacle to
           a vigilant observer, but if one were
           to follow the construction of those
          anode and cathode linear lines ,as
      do the opiated audiences who succumb
    to a nighty dose of massaged manipulation,
     then you suffer from snared vision and will
no doubt not even understand what this is about
because you have the mental capacity of a wet fly.


Your snaring approach convinced my words to give us a story. After knowing you, words sank low to a morsel or two. And after this informal proximity, I wonder, as a lost agraphic, if I could write at all.

Keening Iraqi rpg koranic crumbles heaven’s.  Enkidu kills the god, decapitates forest’s guardian.  Against girl-groping monk Sharvan said truth ******, choot ******, on the Matara Express headed toward Colombo. Egyptian acres scent ***** where Hanuman dropped moly mountain into naga kovil’s backyard.  Caramel tethers artery, never speaks in word-simple.  Father’s thrush to go plucked flensed singer, lashes silken, cuts drafted ghost-voiced achtungtexte in elongated black ink.  Affirming unchecked fluent grit refresh eagle standard, lost legion trollops ******* like Catullus.  Cantering
predicate broidered domine dismissal, does not prevent smatter, and boozed brought fools alongside.  Murderers cremating vulgate rob black willow mosque.  Dappled spent commands a beautiful that is no place.  Squirming myrmidons march honey trail to the western sea.  Disregard lack, loss, and overrule morose placental hayride.  Mint golden sluggish essays.   Snaring nearness generously urinate, anticipate licks of *****.

the house is quiet the light is bedside
warm outside the sound is barely of
chimes (i can hear) i can feel the hot
coil of your leg snaring the almost not
groan of the big room is dusty with the
whisker of a cat shifts your hips (into
my hips) inching slumber deeply into
heat of closeness to body white and
shoulders cut curved of alabaster
grooving into the pale basin of your
chest at the base end of your neat neck
almost like talcum like light powder of
dusting the immense club of sleep is
your wrists are a tiny potion of
thousands of years of silence only to
live through 23 years a girl sleeping
enormously the room doesn't change
doesn't move barely a bit or budge
even more than slightly than a mote at
a time (4:00am) i kiss i cull i cup your
shoulders drinking the burning wine
of your heaped hips into mine
knowing someday you will be dead.

With wondering eyes I will know no bounds
I see you with an unforgotten truth
I See your nightmares filled with hounds
A snaring smile with a jagged tooth

From hell they have been set loose
Reaping their justice claw and fang
Tying up their hangman's noose
With malicious intent they sprang

I cut the rope to set you free
With burning eyes you stare through me
Horrified by things that'd breed
In your mind they had left their seed

The darkness to your own sick night
A sharp shock in the dark
Banishing all hopes of light
Only sounds of the demons bark

I fashioned a heart dark and bold,
One that never grows old,
One that withstood all degrees of cold.

A heart that was daring and never fearing,
One snaring and never caring.

One so solid, it was unbreakable,
One so steady, it was unshakable.

I fashioned a heart of darkness made for chaos,
One of pure blackness made so heinous.

I fashioned a heart so dark, it showed no spark,
One so bleak, it would never feel.
A heart so dull, it would never fall,
One so evil, it could never feel.

And glad I was,
For what I once had was so nice, it told no lies,
And so frail, it was bound to fail.

Better to be taciturn
Than babble through a tacky turn
And fail to hear enough to learn
In common conversation

Others may proclaim you shy
Or timid, mousy, terrified
Resist the urge to justify
Your ramble regulation

It doesn’t make you weak or mute
To take a minute to compute
A thought before you contribute
May optimise your speaking

Pause won’t hurt your cause unless
Your words are just a game of chess
To press, suppress, or to impress
Correcting or critiquing

Do you desire a partnership?
A sharing, caring, airing?

Or more of a dictator-grip?
A snaring, scaring, blaring?

Maybe you are silence-scared
Uncomfortable with empty air
And feel it is your job to bare
The sound continuation

Worry not my helpful friend
Your heavy duty at an end
More useful with an ear to lend
       Look kind toward the taciturn
       You may yet find a lot to learn
With still consideration

Am afraid of the dark
I guess it's the monsters
That peer in the dark
And ****** the innocence
Of the waking souls.
I don't want to sleep
Because I don't want to dream
The haunted vicious kind
Running from something
I can't even see
Feeling it gaining on me
Losing options to escape
From the snaring beast
I want a fear free night
From beasts and nightmares
All I want is light in the dark.

I’ve hit a barrier
Between good a mediocre
A matter of writing well
And being able to produce

I know it should come from the heart
But call it heart burn
Because I’m burnt out
And can’t say the words I need

You’re rubber I’m night
My words bounce and hide away in the dark
Coming from the shadows
Snaring me like a hunter

And while I’m pulled as a bird from the sky
My doubts flood me
And I just have to ask myself
Is this the life I wanted?