"soloing" poems
I put on a Count Basie LP
on the blue covered
record-player,
Tilly lay on the bed
filing her finger nails,
looking at them
making sure
they were even.
I looked out
the bedroom window
onto the grass and hedge
and to my right
the apple orchard.
I loved the saxophone solo
on the Basie LP,
moved my head
to the beat.
Did your mum believe
you went to stay
at a friend's house?
I said.
Yes, she seemed to,
Tilly said,
taking her eyes
from her nails
to gaze at me.
Had to be convincing,
and lie of course,
Tilly added,
looking at me
more intensely.
Which friend
did you say?
I asked.
Pretend friend,
I haven't a friend
I can lie about
so convincingly,
Tilly said.
I guess so,
I said,
turning to face her
lying there on my bed,
the trumpeter soloing
on Basie track.
Doesn't your mum
mind us being up here
in your room?
Tilly said.
I said I wanted to you
to hear my new Basie LP,
I said.
I don't like jazz,
I like the Beatles
and Bob Dylan,
Tilly said.
Had to say something,
I said.
We had good ***
at Uncle's place
didn't we?
she said,
smiling,
putting away
her nail-file.
We had.
I remembered it
as I sat on the bed
looking back at her,
wishing we could here,
but it would be too risky
with my mother
just downstairs,
and my young brother
likely to come up
any minute.
Is your place
ever empty?
I asked.
Seldom,
Tilly said,
Mother is nearly always there,
doing her housework
or the garden
or preparing meals.
The Basie big band
was playing out the track
and then stopped,
and there was silence.
I leaned to her
and kissed her lips.
She put her arms
around me,
and we held close.
Lips to lips stuck.
We wanted to,
but we couldn't
worst luck.
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 3:28 AM UTC
missyouhere
My solar plexus is really feelin
you right now
Powerfully internal longing
I mean ****
Even digital communication is
helping
And you know how I feels
*I do!!
Ergo my slight surprise
earlier*
I'm missin you girl
*as I feel we've indeed kept the
whole not-getting-too-sticky-
over-text communication
you're making my heart smile*
I feel you from here :)
I'm trying to get up there
Before school starts I want to go
explore places with you
*month left!
ample time*
Start thinking of places you'd
want to check out
We could crash in the back of
my car or tent or whateva
And get mad homies to come too
But I think a lil day trip with us
soloing could be very cool
*yes
find a creek
we'll be there. only paddle
needed being yours
I just miss you on top of me,
hugging my body to yours
the feel of your shoulders*
Lightly touch your neck with fingertips
As they find their way to the
roots of your hair
And I squeeze
And a hard kiss
As I stare
Deep into your eyes
stopimissyou
I'm driving so I fear I shall stop promptly
why would you drive and talk to me -_-
Reckless lust.
Laying underneath the stars with
you in my arm
Thought fills me with warmth
*ugh
stevieray*
Satine
*imissyou
comenearme*
As soon as
Unfortunately
Feasible
And not possible
Buenos noches
Satine dulce
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 6:16 PM UTC
they came around
this early morn,
asking for you
they always do,
check in regular,
especial in the now
disharmonious waking times,
ever since you checked out
a different path,
your own,
wanted a kitchen
with no His aprons,
where you were
chief chef,
braising simmering, shucking
of your own choosing,
and the cooking accessories
were yours, initialed,
so you stated
in your
'so short, so long' note,^
a trifling amuse-bouche,
for me to consume,
for you,
to be amused by...
so long,
now soloing,
duo thing wasn't working,
two sopranos,
in one kitchen
trying to out
high note each other,
a creatively strange way to say
I love you but,
I am Top Chef
thus is the human way,
to err for what we want,
to err for what we had,
err for what we now need
and the long and the short of it,
long for...
the smell of your voice,
the song of thy fresh creations,
wafting, enticing and now
in hind-sighting,
mesmerizing me awake from
loving bed to contested kitchen
now I only sing and cook professionally
which is another word for mechanically
the voice,
thine cooking smells,
cinnamon and cardamon
that resided in our skins,
check in,
looking for refreshment,
have none to offer....
ever since,
we were
so short, so long...
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 9:09 AM UTC
Go in for the solo invade
Man, this guy is really good.
Is this Jesus?
Probably.
Soloing baron,
All the while wearing
A straw hat.
Communists are fat.
Even though they don't have food.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 12:33 PM UTC
“Death of Beautiful Smiles”
Where is the tree?
Has it departed like fury ocean indeed?
I have known its beauty
Which glows in that field.
Wonder! I see the sun retiring
Together with the moon dimming.
All with my hapless star dangling.
Those heavy remembrance
When I felt the unsaid smiles.
Why come? And leaving,
So avid as devil's winding,
Leaving blanketed bruises
To smile down sunshine of happiness.
Courtly; can I withstand this death;
Hovering so rooted all night
On the trees you do perch
Soloing beautifully
with delicious smiles in all pace
We do stride, so sudden! Ah!
The tree has departed, truly. Ah!
And all the imprecating smiles gone.
Just entrusted is gone.
Jun 12, 2019
Jun 12, 2019 at 12:42 PM UTC
Reclusive turtle soloing about its ribcage for one bestie' tendency.
After spent the night in its master's clink full of candelabra with Earthlings, the turtle doesn't want to go to thine torturous awry cotillion where everyone is fumbling for the right words.
It is happier to mate with the bestie while all the misnomers vibrating as if they would penetrate into the soul lucidly. Seeking gratification by every frottage and endless non-penetrative *** whispering straightforward colloquial language became a morbid fascination.
Beastie frighten and enthralled the turtle with Sigillum Dei like riffs from decades of its polytheistic worship, machinations and machinations of coercive persuasions unlike crowdy psychopathies who pay no heed to propaganda and their mutual ************ provoked by **** star personality taxonomy and *** toy fabrication.
Turtle caused beastie a impairment of memory because of its anonymity and disruption of beliefs.
Falling in love with you like seeing someone else dresses in my skin. What I want to do to you is systematically indoctrinate you through torture techniques.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 12:19 AM UTC
I wanna stop faking the smile I wanna start saying my mind to my notepad at least can I pour my thought it is a world of mystery I live in It is a blow of pain I feel in my heart With a wet pillow I sleep all night am lonely I know I am am broken deep down am helpless somehow wanna talk to the sky hope it going to listen!
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 8:26 AM UTC
Deliciously intricate,
The ways of the world, no?
No?!
Think of the droplet in the surf
Flung far from its mountain basin,
But a roaring speck of an army of being
United in washing me clean.
Think of the dust blown high in the breeze
Wanderer of the spectral footplains
Going forth in a tumbling dance to
Brush my cheek.
Think of the people in their two step music
Soloing their own sorrows, but finding
That when they find another
Their solos become harmonies.
Deliciously intricate,
The ways of the world, no?
Yes.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 1:17 PM UTC