May 9, 2012, 7:01:02 PM by ~OmegaWolfOfWinter
Journals / Personal




The rivers of winter ice had melted with spring sunshine's awakening and the noises of the forest announced the awakening of the fauna. a young fox stretched her long legs and fluffed up her tail as she yawned awake. this winter had been a lonely one for her, as she did not have a mate. throughout the winter she had felt the tingling feelings of her ****** urges creep between her legs and she moaned slightly as she felt them creeping there again.  she stepped slowly out of her den and took a cool breath of the spring air, bringing her the scents of the amorous flowers and the frolicking prey. she watched two birds in courting flight above har and she sighed at her loneliness. the fox hung her head low and walked softly forward. at some point she closed her eyes and yet kept walking, a few tears of longing falling from her eyes. the tingling urges grew stronger and she fought to keep them at bay. she kept walking a bit, aimlessly, though. she cried out as she stumbled over a heavy rock.
She tumbled into the nearby brook and felt a sharp stone cut her right hind leg. she clambered on to the bank, shivering and soaking wet with the chilled water. she attempted to stand and felt a fiery sting to her leg. she looked and saw a shallow **** marring her orange fur. "ow... ow..." she whimpered as she walked on. as the sun peaked over her, she felt her stomach's pleading for sustenance and she groaned. she could faintly smell a rabbit nearby and crouched low, going over how to stalk her prey. she sniffed for it and it seemed to be close, on the other side of a group of trees. she flanked around as best she could and spotted the furball. she licked her lips hungrily and pounced. the rabbit was dead in an instant as she tore its throat out. she chomped at it once and then felt a feeling of dread. she gulped once and heard a wolf growl nearby. i'm wounded... i can't avoid it now.
. she thought. she heard the wolf running toward her and was bowled over by it. when she stopped
Rolling she was on her back. looking up at the wolf, a young grey, white chested wolf, at the beginning of his manhood. he snarled at his prey as she whimpered beneath him. then to her surprise, he sniffed at her and tilted his head, the tenseness of the hunt gone from his yellow eyes. the wolf took a step back and looked her up and down, stopping as he saw something. he spoke softly, almost caringly, "you are female... and in heat... i apologize for interrupting your meal."
the fox looked at him curiously, "You...?"
he glanced at her and finished her thought. "...do not harm females. it is a code of honor i choose to live by."
she sniffed at him, "you have no mate, no lover."
his breath caught. "nor do you, young fox, lest he'd be satiating your body's desires, and his as well."
she felt the tingling between her legs again and attempted to say something, but was stopped. the wolf said, "nor do i wish to take advantage of females either."
The fox replied suggestively, "you spared my life, surely theres some way i could repay you, handsome wolf."
the wolf looked at her, eyes dilated and his breathing rough. he shook his head, "no.. i couldnt. its not my place."
she could feel the urges burning inside her, she wanted to release them, she wanted this wolf to release her. "chivalrous, i see. then, dear wolf, alleviate my longing, my pain, and i shall alleviate your own."
the wolf took a step closer, his own longing feeding his fire. "beautiful fox... your offer intigues me... you- you are wounded..." she looked and saw her leg still bleeding. "let me aide you, dear fox." he took a few steps and lay beside her, licking her wound. with each lick, the pain receded and was replaced by a wave of pleasant ache. the bleeding stopped and he stopped licking, for the moment. he sniffed her, his cold nose brushing the swollen flesh, and as it quivered between her legs, he knew she was ready for him. "my den is close by, young fox."
She nuzzled against his chest and felt his heart pounding. she took his paw and pressed it against her own chest, letting him feel her heart. "you know we cant wait that long, here.. in this group of trees." she gestured to the spot a few feet away. the wolf quickly walked into the tangle of trees, followed by the fox. the wolf had hardly stepped inside the treeline before the fox began nudging at the furry bulge between his legs. "you're not quite ready yet, dear wolf." the wolf whimpered a few times as she licked at it, taking his smooth member in her mouth and enticing it with her tongue. once it was throbbing in its full glory, she licked one last time and said, "now you're ready." and raised herself in preparation for him. he got into position on top of her and with one paw she guided him inside her. she gasped as he stretched her a little. she glanced over her shoulder and
realized that he wasnt that much bigger than her. he looked nervous and she realized something,
This is his first time... mine too... lets make this memorable.. she experimented with different positions, and after finding her favorite, set about making this wolf howl.
the wolf ****** slowly at first, drawing out the ecstasy. only when she began to whimper amorously did he begin to ****** harder, faster. she joined him, as he pulled back, she leaned forward, leaving only his tip inside her. when he ******, she leaned back on him with a wet squish. the wolf's tongue lolled and his eyes were glazed over in sweet agony. he howled softly at first, and as the ****** came, he howled again, echoing with the fox's cries as the ecstasy reached its ****** and rocked their bodies. the wolf staggered slightly at the passionate waves of ******. he pulled out his member and looked at his mate. "come with me to my den, so we can sleep, dear fox." the fox looked at him and nodded, grateful.
* * *
The fox and the wolf walked quietly to his den, set inside a secluded cluster of trees. the den itself was set in the ground, like a cavern, just large enough for the two of them to lie down comfortably. "its going to get cold tonight," said the wolf. "we should... share body heat." he had a faint twinkle in his eyes as he glanced nervously at her. when she tilted her head to him, the wolf looked down at his paws. the fox licked his muzzle and laid down next to him. the wolf's grey fur was thick, and she was  already beginning to feel warmer. she felt the wolf's heart beat a little faster, and he curled around her. his furry tail wrapped around the fox and she purred slightly as she nuzzled him and rested her head on his foreleg. for a moment they lay there, eyes closed, listening to the others' breathing, when he whispered to her, "i never did catch your name, young fox."
she grinned at him, "my name's Sasha, the only fox in this forest. and what be your name, dear wolf?"
The wolf opened one eye slightly to look at her, "my name is Ronan, i'm the last wolf of my pack."
she held him in her gaze a few beats and replied, "i haven't seen many wolves 'round these parts, where do you come from, Ronan?"
the grey sighed and said, "Farther north, over the mountains and into ice country. the food became scarce and the pack withered away, all but me. i treveled over the hills and mountains, through forests and grassland, and i kept going, finally stopping here. what of you? you said yourself you were the only fox in this forest."
Sasha swished her tail back and forth for a moment before, "i was separated from my family during a blizzard. i- i couldn't see anything, and i couldn't hear anything over the wind. i wandered aimlessly in the whiteout, tripping and stumbling until i bumped into something big. then again, i was just a kit and everything was big to me, but i looked up and saw a pair of eyes looking at me. i was so scared the snow beneath me turned yellow.
The monster bent over and picked me up by the scruff of my neck and carried me for a long time. i was so exhausted i fell asleep in its grip. when i woke up i was in a chilly den. i looked and realized that the monster had been a snow-white she-wolf. she sat at the enterance to the den and kept looking outside, waiting for something. when the snowstorm cleared out, she turned to me and said, 'little fox. have you a family?' i shook my head as i realized they were gone. from then on, the wolf raised me and taught me how to survive. then one day a few years ago... she was gone..."
Ronan was watching the fox as she told the story. "i'm sorry."
"don't be, ronan. ever since she left ive been alone. no fox to breed me, no one for a lover. until you came along..."
ronan licked her muzzle, "no need for loneliness now." sasha smiled and was soon asleep, warmed by her lover.
*
The sun rose and shone brightly into the entrance of the den the next morning, waking sasha from her slumber. she yawned and felt around for the grey. she felt nothing. she stood up and looked around the empty den. did he... leave me? a single tear fell when she imagined the possibility. "no.... please no..." she whimpered. her breath caught as she heard something rustling the grass outside the den. sasha shrank back and hid behind her tail, peeking over it slightly. she could hear her heartbeat in her ears and feel it rising in her throat as the rustling got closer and closer. she squeaked, "who... who's there?"
she flinched as a dark mass blocked the sunlight, its shadow stretching across the wall. the mass stepped slowly forward and sasha shut her eyes tight, fearing what might come next. "sasha?" it was ronan. "what's the matter?"
she gasped at him before rushing forward and burying her muzzle in his chest fur. "i thought you'd left me..."
with a paw, ronan stroked the fur on her back. "i'm a wolf, ***. loyalty and chivalry are the only things i know." she buried herself deeper in his fur and scolded herself for not realizing that. "i caught breakfast, i figured you'd be hungry after i interrupted your meal yesterday." she looked behind him and saw a small pile of ****** rabbits. sasha licked her lips hungrily. "its all yours, dear fox." she looked gratefully at Ronan before pouncing on the pile of carcasses, tearing into one and bloodying her maw. ronan watched her with pleasant  affection. the den was filled with the sounds of flesh being rendered from bone and the snapping of Sasha's teeth. she feasted upon the **** until she could eat no more, her belly now filled. two rabbits still lay uneaten, and ronan devoured them slowly, savoring the ****** meat as it slipped down his gullet. sasha lay nuzzled up against him while he ate, toying at his tail and
otherwise teasing at him. he gave her a look of amusement and somehow got into a game of tag with her.
He chased her around the den and she dodged his paw as he reached for her. when he did finally touch her, sasha dove between his legs and poked his furry belly. leaving him with a dumbfounded expression on his face. he then chased sasha outside and they continued their game within the cluster of trees around them. sasha laughed, a liquid smooth, crystal clear laugh. ronan watched her jump around him, the sun's rays catching her fine orange fur in such a way that it seemed almost like fire. he watched her a moment and loosed a soft howl. she's so beautiful... he thought.
* *

The antique shop,
a cauldron where memories
from far and near boil and froth,
where chronological order
didn't matter, time stood still,
part real, as much magic,
different lives from distant lands and time
rolled in to one.
Here they met, by chance,a man
and a mysterious woman,with an eye for unusual,
among what was  on display were
things a conman would seek
and also favorite stuff fit for  kings,
artifacts and articles they must have used
or hankered after.

Past uses these museum pieces
as baits for us, secretly preparing us
to surrender before future,
unkind and rude in mind;
he changed roles as both con and king,
there was a constant yes,
she was the mate in each
he couldn't take  eyes  off her,
and she asked what he looks for,

"The famous ****** quilt,
that was to be mine twice before,
I missed making it mine,
narrowly every time"
He wondered how did he
make up that story so quick.
"I can take you to the quilt,
but it isn't here" she said
not a bit  hesitant
He was flabbergasted by
the turn of events,as if
a hidden scripted move shows the way
They left by her car,
she was eloquent about
the effects of the ****** quilt.

As they stood near the ****** quilt,
in this room he thought was part
of an antique shop, the place looked deserted,
and her eyes shone when she suggestively said
"Want to test the effect? Don't be disappointed"
It wasn't. How could one  imagine, that
the quilt can be so voluptuous.

That secret shook him out of his shell,
she had  nothing to do  with antique of any kind,
just another visitor like him, and the quilt
was an ingenious plot she hatched
in keeping with my sudden flourish,
the quilt, was a new addition in her bed
patch worked in silk, light weight,
it wasn't a blanket, but ****** in its very touch
it was them, the moment of adventure they found
had brought the rapture,who would regret?

This poem casts a line from insomnia to morning
On the wind of a prayer that whatever bites, holds on.

See I have counted eleven score and ten,
with rainbow like curves of my neck -
contemptuous beasts leaping in formation
each bleating out a preach of vague platitudes;
A narrative for the night sky.

My hands clamour at keys for escape
until I tumble headfirst into a web so vast
it has ensnared the whole world wide -
millennials are living in-ter-net over in-the-world;
a new ultraviolence against humanity.

I beat my words into the screen until it breaks;
shattering scarlet emoticons like confetti
pouring over language as if it were a compliment.
My mind massages shapeless polypous thoughts
like tight constricted muscles aching for release.

3am casts these philosophies into horses,
whipping them into shape and speed
before the eyes of this statuesque ******.
This anxious wakefulness begs my manic self to dance;
suggestively ******* tickets to ride like cleavage.

Sleep is fast becoming a neglected former engagement;
as my mind trips over fallen heroes
wades through my favourite mistakes
in a wonderland unfolding faster than I can fall
while the world beyond my window remains dark.

How do you feel about this and that?

A cockroach stealing your children's dreams of a bright and peaceful future?

Watching a mongoloid getting backhanded by a ******* with a heart of gold?

The unknowable can't be evacuated by an atomic bomb.

Knowledge cannot be enthralled by microbiology.

Peace CAN & WILL shatter into fragments by the use of clinical drugs.

Fun finds the cure for cancer in a twisted upbringing that you and your siblings will never be blessed to experience.

Trust can trigger an avalanche of facts, AND satanism should generally avoid including sexuality.

Mary Magdalene turns boring things into ****** tension like peace inspires fundamentally skewered acts of protests.

Our world leaders briefly researching painful mutilations in an ancient garden in Greece, while suggestively grabbing handfuls of lost gifts in a church made from human bones.

How are you feeling about this mess of words I've sewn together?  

Televised revolutions are deeply advertising etched foreskins of death like Disney World sells us dates with Mickey Mouse and his muse Minnie as Donald poses as Adolf ******.   

Watch your friends fade and die as they disobediently blow away blue swamps at your feet, never even bothering you with a decent goodbye.  

There's a supply and demand on our radios briefly warning us of fearful flesh in the background of a dark ash filled sky, gently driving away from mysteries spied through a peephole.

I would have cried briefly, if worshiping premonitions in the shadows was good human behavior...But it's not..

Your sisters are daintily self-destructing emergency shelters dancing w/ both hands in your pockets while vomiting their lunches into fine porcelain. Aren't we lucky?

I am happily reusing substances
and creating electrifying populations with clay and words. A seamstress of sorts I suppose.  But I'm no artist.

Pentecostalism might be able to rid the world of a nightmare and your wildest dream might have been known to lead to a disorder that hasn't yet been but already has five matter of fact cures.

The Bible courses through the veins of vengeance like physics can be used to detect our long-term relationship with Santa Christ. Satan and I think this is exciting!

Complex religious designs can be combined with gracelessness in the name of American eye-candy.  We can be uncomfortable if it's entangled with destiny. Of this I am certain.

Carrying your name forward
on a silver stein raft
with the wreckage of me
I long to crave,
mouth agape, eyes watering proof
I long to crave,
my deciduous vulnerability flashed wide upon when you’re there
I long to crave,
your sweet nectar lips dipped in honey;
have a taste of your
white chocolate
lava cake
I long to crave,
to stare into the openness of your porcelaina doll face
I long to crave,
look through the window to your soul through
your nebulaic eyes.
I long to crave,
Suggestively suggestive advice from you to me to you
I long to crave,
My lover dreamer’s dream
I long to crave,
My tinder streak
keeping me warm
I long to crave,
the shoulder to lean on
in my darkest hours
I long to crave,
The person I want to be beside
When I’m at my most beautiful.
I long to crave,
Oh, how I long to crave ?
My undying longing to crave.

You.

See
I was about to leave
but then you looked at me.
I felt it a challenge.
Suggestively
the beast in me
was roused.
*
I needed to taste your courage.
I needed to wrap my hands
around your passive aggression,
grasp your hot air..
I needed to feed off your energy
I needed your soul to
inhale it and make it mine
**
You told me so with your eyes.
I needed
to see.
And now
I'll never leave.

Why are you appealing to me-

Stimulating my ****** desire
tending to arouse evil with inside

Me- You

Us
Identical-

Suggestively I've laid out
flowery perfumed petal

trailing to the bedroom

I've characterized you

by obscenity's & indecency's
you've already let me get away with

**** vivacious recipient-
eluding the lubricious

embraces of
my prurient thought.

Thigh high boots

Whips Creme & chains

Swing chair done up tight to the ceiling,

Lubrications lotions & potions,

Candlelit flickers

as

Our
silhouette's merge into

Identical
mirrored image

You-  Me

Mingling

Melting- the little death

becomes

Us!

Identical........

Always me Ayeshah

What repose and subtle wonder it is
to venture looking backward
upon my written name.

Scribbled, lacking coherence in its characters,

doctored suggestively towards containing
 an inherent “literary” edge

out of just what it is,

an association of sounds,

(parent’s gifted accidents of intention)
commingled and pushed into

an accepted truth by repetition

and repetition alone.


The surges of black-tongued self-consciousness

-that I’m far above the spot-scratching undergraduate

notion of admiring my personal stamp, of falling in love

with myself by using “bigger” words to fetishize
my most basic claim on having existed, of being HERE-

are given rise. 


These fade, by examples immemorial, to give way to other voices

striving for attention, to grasp their mark upon the page.

Late evening



On a wall,

Initials carved with a filthy bar

of rationed soap

In Dungeon Europe’s eastern range.

Where prison bars once hounded in

where beating’s sounded off 
morning’s crisp hue

The inevitable made its finer points here

Trampling over names and voices

lost to history.


Now a museum

the lunch-time rush 
of internationals

(who mostly work for corporations with offices in every place they travel)

Photograph themselves with expensive cameras

After shuddering, some even hazarding a tear

in considering what fates have befell

occupants on the wrong side of a different bureaucracy

 ....but all that matters, after they leave, is the the proof 

they were there. And how it was just how they imagined.


Morning, in my bedroom

and I’ve written something again...



I can stack it away

if I feel that I failed to capture

what I wanted to be seen

(if not in my own handwriting,

then on some gilded white screen

letters upright and well-rounded.)



How much can it matter to me?

Seeing my own name

allotted above or at the end

of some juvenile thoughtpiece
the kind editors everywhere
are doing their best to get rid of.


I suppose I write because it pushes me out of the expected

it releases me, on these mornings, these graceful, time-blessed

mornings, out of the cell.

To roam among the other skeptics, who thought aloud to wistfully

spend time away from the routine

To hold aloft a lighter-flame for those trapped inside.

Your eyes gulp down milkshakes of galaxies;
clusters of God’s Christmas lights he forgot
to take down, you tell me, stretched like
gossamer skin against the roof of time

without end as you howl, spinning through
the breath of pooling waves in particle showers
of joy, the ghostly hue of dawn hovering
suggestively just beyond the curve of the world

and you laugh at the speed this pretty rock
is hurtling through yawning nothing as you
shout challenges to the monsters roaring in the
deep.  

The primordial soup inside your head is cooling
now as shadow waves curl like butter across the
alien toast of hard packed sand and you sit
offering up prayers to Pisces as morning feasts
on the stars.

It is raised a corpulent Spirit,
dangling it legs suggestively,
over the abyss of national identity,
an ideological state apparatus, BANG!

Mind the gap of danger when boarding and alighting trains.

when our mind is full of great ideas
we want to write them down
yet there are times when we  discover
that there is no connection from our brain
to all the instruments we use
to transcribe our flighty thoughts
    to give them shape on paper, screen, or in the sand

sometimes it helps to pause a bit and reconsider
what we do really want to say  
    focus and concentrate
    articulate precisely yet suggestively
our indomitable urge to formulate
    the turmoil of emotions we may harbor
    our wild ideas of revolution
    the overbearing pain of loss and separation
    grey landscapes of depression
    attractions of dramatic suicide
also the joy and pleasures of deep love
    of unexpected friendships found
        where even angels fear to tread
    the happiness of our children
    the love we recognize
        often too late
    our parents have bestowed on us

et cetera  et cetera

the catalogue of our themes
expands through our lives
so do the challenges
of how to tell the tale

it helps to aim for clarity
we have to  let our instruments of writing know
which of our turbulently swirling thoughts
should earn the privilege
to become words
    and be communicated
to people who
    before they read our verse
have no idea at all
    that we exist

A shifting veil of shadows
filled my vision
as if requiring breath aimlessly.
I drew fire into my veins
as my suitor,
when I sought out release.

Looking down upon the back
of my fingers
Warm contentment followed hopefully.
Picking up my hand,
understanding flamed
this fire in me.

A caress pledged half a dream.
Bit my lip suggestively.
Sweet and gentle touches
became phantoms
of hope,
welcoming in, seductive pleas.

Instinct wrapped around a veil
of shadows.
Found everything ever wanted.
Desire left kisses
on my brow,
whispered cries that taunted.

My soul gazed pleasures
state of mind,
took a deep breath of me.
Drawing fire into my veins
as my suitor,
I gave myself...shamelessly.

The silent drives with music and wind in my ears remind me of all the places that I've been without you.
That time in the mountains of Idaho, walking hand in hand with a boy whose name escapes even my most concentrated memory.
He was too shy to make a move but when I said he could kiss me if he didn't try to **** me he was all too eager to roll around in the needles on the forest floor.
That green holiday filled with fools gold and cheap beer when I was bored and found myself on the side of that ****** house pushing her into the panels with my kiss, wrapping my hands around her waist, venturing beneath her shirt.
The hot Florida sun beating the white powder of my skin until it turned bronze, and when my neighbor eyed me suggestively I remember closing my eyes and thinking of him alone in my bed that night.
Home in the midnight hours, running across Broadway, doubling over with laughter as we found Chaos and entertained her until we made it home to sleep on the hardwood floor of my unfurnished apartment.
Sitting alone in the shade above the waterfall, surrounded by the trees dancing with one another to the beat of the trains loud roar. I wrote my first hatred of you there.
The first and only kiss with a stranger who stumbled into me that night at the bar while I was bent over in my red dress shooting pool.
The tiny sparkle in his silly blue eyes and grin of a child made me laugh, and we still imagine what would happen if we were ever in the same part of the country again.
But we're still on this silent drive surrounded by the Cascades and my hair is blowing in my face. I see a smile grace your lips and I wonder if it will be like this forever, or maybe I'll find myself untied again, holding freedom by the reigns.

To feel her warm and gentle hand
upon your smiling face,
her tender loving caress is like
a sweet and soothing grace.

Teasing, as your fingers
trace a tantalizing trek
along her silken stockings
as you tenderly kiss her neck.

Gazing into enchanting eyes
so deep with dark desire,
whirling pools of life and lust,
dancing in dangerous fires.

A hint of honey on lips so full
and a warm and willing sigh,
a teasing tongue slips slowly across
crimson curves, daring to defy.

Inhaling her sweet
and succulent scent,
as she moans and leans in close,
so delicately sweet;
so soft and gentle,
a shimmering summer rose.

The susurrant sound
of her breathless voice
as she whispers into your ear,
her words so soft
and suggestively sweet,
yet unmistakably clear.

She rises slowly
and takes your hand
with a beckoning
tilt of her head,
leading you away
to the far off lands
waiting warmly
within her soft bed.

Wherever she leads
with her sultry smile,
you will willingly
welcome the chase,
just to feel her warmth
and wallow within
misty moments,
of a lovers embrace.


Written by Darren Scanlon, 1st March 2015.
Revised 25th July 2015.
©2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.

forage through
my carrots polish my tomato
smile as you suggestively
swallow the banana
devour all the
sour cream
on the red hot long
burrito
gulp the vanilla
ice cream
smile shyly
when I get a taste of pie.

It’s early night and I am at her place
I am lying on the roof and looking at the stars
And thinking of The Milky Way
And other distant galaxies.
She’s out at a party
Probably dancing with other boys
And cussing me out to her friends
Telling them how much she hates that I am a recluse
And that all I want to do is sit at home.
She’s such a flirt,
She’s smoking hot and she knows it
She leads the boys on, she smiles at them suggestively,
Sometimes grabs them on the ***.
I’ve seen her do it a couple of times.

It’s late night and I am still at her place
I am still lying on the roof and still looking at the stars.
I light a cigarette,
It is my 2nd of the night.
Just then I hear someone walk in,
She's back.
She spots me and hollers out to me
What are you doing up there, crazy? Come down and sit with me, won’t you?
And I watch her as she walks in
Kicking her heels off at the door.

I’m lying in bed with her
She has a big smile on her face
As she tells me
Where she went
Who she danced with
Who tried to kiss her
And what she drank,
But I am not the least bit interested.
She takes her clothes off
And then mine
The *** is good, as always
But it is different.
It is slow
And intimate,
It feels like I am ******* a sad and lonely woman.

She falls asleep
With her head on my chest.
I gently place a pillow below her head,
I walk out of the room
Out of the house
And up on the roof
Again.
I sit on the edge,
My legs dangling,
I light a cigarette and wait.
The only thing is
I don't know what I'm waiting for.

Suggestively selecting songs serenading sweet-sixteeners.
Saying soft somethings.
Supporting satanic systems.
Sweeping sonnets.
Slang symphonies.
Symposium suspended.
Goodnight.

My thoughts flow, words
My dreams come and go, script delay
My hands touch, hoping they stay
Letters curve so slightly, sensual
Serifs barely touch, hesitate
Testing the boundaries of space, flirting
Lyrics weave my tousled hair, joining sound waves  
Make their way in, touching me
Coursing alongside my thin veins, pressure
Fall swiftly down my arteries, suggestively flood my soul

Me and my gal there are
way too many skits
All fits extra bits the "Kit Kat"
More edible so incredible
The next door Gals
loveable

So pompous everyone
is competing for
the pearly white smiles
Those walkouts extra
digging workouts
But what was lost the
extra hugging

Dreaming do we all
have the right
extra goods going to
Church always
Saying I have sinned
kneeling
Like those dog days
So swift as a second skin

The summery like winery she
shifted her hips the Gal with her
divine flowers extra mind she showers

Whats becoming mystical with poise
That ethereal hooked extra path Rose
Those extras I suppose for granted 
The fundraiser heart of giving
Teaching us a lesson in lying
Godly extra of surviving
How he loves his treats dog
or human begging and love
forgiving

Medieval shows she knows
Bazooka Gal bubbly
But wickedly incredible
The mix of Pixar extra
star trouble

Gingerly **** Rosy Lips
suggestively incredible 2
Divinely, he cannot help
himself so manly whats to do?

Emblaze another phrase
Saying your nobody until
somebody loves you
He's the Dean of all extras

Happy go lucky humming
bread Robin red breast nest
What freedom fireflies, daffodils delight,
and butterflies extra wing Peking duck
Gal Friday turning another page he ducks

All in the  kingdom Ms.Joy no extra pain
Laughing like the fandom taking the next
Wolf tie train trick of the brain
but stop in her name
The other Gal got her fame

All the extra love at the top he's
at the bottom bed of condoms
The high-Gal post-chaise with
her bell bottoms
He took a sleigh ride

Just out of random don't push
her buttons
Seeing the stray Bengal Tiger
his extra studded
collar down to her currency
Only a dollar tree
Hollywood extra part wasn't
the true color of he
His Stingray lay lady lay
He just never stays
Being Starved  for love
All the extras the roast
Hottie buffets

Mmm so nice her ear raven
dark brunette
The gal can kick you like
Rockefeller showRockette
That Gal all news gazette
That extra crepe Suzettes
his eyes he just went
through raced his extra miles
How he charmed over you
In his Corvette

Bombay French-skirts cafe
The extra treat parfait
Magnificent Monet
Cobblestone love walks
Gateway the gal with
something extra talks

They cuddle
fall asleep arm to arm
head to head it really
didn't matter
They just knew it felt
extra right good night
What was ever said
With your after-mints
And substitute plays everything lit up
Purple haze, so passionate but crazed
Something extra she got a raise

We will play the piano together
With you sexily seated on my laps
If I be in good moods I will sing-
You the very beautiful sweet song-
The most awesome live performance
Karaoke, you have ever heard
A sweet song from my heart and soul-
My feelings as well as my thoughts
I will let out all unreserved

My fingers flowing with its off-beat tone
And your head and heart node
Obsessively following its lone tone
For to my heart and soul you’ll there belong
And to your mind and thoughts I’ll be strong
The voice matters not as the sincerely let-out words

I will delight in your attentive silence
To my off-beat frogs’ croaks romance
Piercing deep your heart as thoughts and emotions
Rather, the talks than the symphony
Of my sonorous sound’s melody
I will watch you with deep admirations-my perpetual possessions
And I will hold you and your now trickling tears
My doting darling from falling and getting any hurt
I will catch your soul as its moved heart cheers

For I swore-in my arms’ sinews you’ll always swing
In my embraces you’ll always find a home to cling
And in your heart’s soul I will always spring
Within us there will be an ever telepathy, a ring
A buried umbilical cord, our worlds to string

We will bake the beautiful breads together
Dusting playfully and suggestively each other
With its fine flour, white dirt
We will cook the delicious meals together  
My arms around your wealthy waist
Your head’s stem rested on my chest
As your gently hands wifely stirs the steaming ***
My soul humbly humming: blessed he who gets such a material mum

Then we will sit on that set table steaming with delis
To fondly feed each other with the spoils before us
Till full and foolish we will richly rest carelessly
On these soft sofas exhausted and excited
Your body flat over mine stretched protective, carefree

I will feel proud and honoured
When I look at your finger
And on it I be merrily met
By that five-carats diamond glint
I will remember the song of your heart
On that our maiden wedding day
‘Yes, I do my love; I agree to be your forever wife
For better or bitter, for good or rude, for merry or moody
Now and until only, sadly, death does us apart!”

And I’ll shed a tear of joy and glory
On the far we have held unblemished the pure promises
The far the Good Lord us has carried and cared, a blessing!  
And I know you will care to know why your man is shedding a tear
In moments such memorable as this, for you are my woman and I am your man…….

© Kìùra Kabiri. All rights reserved.

Student to Master:
Revered Master, please tell me why I am so unhappy.

Reply: From your tone and posture, so suggestively
this I can say unreservedly:
it's because you have taken yourself too seriously.

always wondering if you like me;
though the answer is quite plain to see
by the way you stare so longingly
at that girl sat suggestively upon your knee.

When I remember unpleasant memories, I first feel disgust with only myself. Some things are so out there I was sure I never did such things, until they come in glimpses and flashes. I feel a nervous shake coming unto me because I feel as if I should mention some things, to perceive it differently now, than I did then.

I had recently gotten a flash back of a night when I was 12, staying in a drug house because me and my mother were homeless and frankly anywhere was better than nowhere. I woke up foggy from ****, and I was so intoxicated I didn’t realize that I woke up half naked, but fell asleep fully clothed. There was also a “smiley” as they call it where they heat up the metal of a lighter and brand yourself, on my lower elbow that Is still so notable to this day at 15 years old.

My mother and her boyfriend who was a whole other story of trauma, owned a bar. That would barely get food on our table somehow. We would often sleep there and open up the next day, and I would sleep in the office was was 3 feet by 4 feet with a mattress that was squished in to fit and a laptop with one movie I watched almost every day. I was self harming at this time, and I remember after something happened I would sit there watching that movie all day while ripping the nails out of the wall to cut myself.

A friend and I who would do drugs together were walking through the worst ghetto in that city, and a white car pulls over and asks us if we need a ride. I cannot believe we got in the car. They took us back to her house which was the drug house I mentioned earlier, and they smoked 10 grams of **** with a 13 year old and a 16 year old. Before they left they expected payment when we were under the impression it was just hanging out, and they sat next to my friend suggestively. I had a knife on me, and I pulled it out on the bigger one causing him to stand up violently. I slashed his wrist and his friend ran off, and we ran the other direction to a field where we slept for the night.

I will end this with a memory I just came across.
I grew up from the age of about 9 till 11 in a beautiful house in a nice neighborhood. Within those years my step dad divorced my mother because she cheated, then she lost her job, and then met her abusive boyfriend. Things started to fall apart in the last year when I was 11. I remember walking into that house after being sent away for months to live with my aunt to detox and get away, and the entire house was stripped of anything that distuingisuhed it as a house. The floors were now concrete, the windows and doors were gone, furniture was gone, clothes were gone, even the garage door. It was all sold for money. That is when we were kicked out and the troubles started to roll in for my mother and I.

Some half baked dubious ******* that I wrote on a train headed in the direction of Kortrijk:


''An endless stream of not arseds to hang your ***** washing on/Ya forebearers are all mutts, your pallbearers will be too/You are a kazzoo blowing *******, an idiot's tac nightmare/seen two or three of your alleged family members puffing their chests out down the backtrack, propa knackas/Ya ma is very particular, your sister is as cold as a fortnight in the briar dene (although a fine dancer when she sets her mind to it/
Getting older or more toxic? Shushhhh, be kind/started hearing normans and lennys settling betting slips while I'm on the netty/dettol and despair- the golden duo made good/I'll be bed ridden in time for christmas- flannel pyjamas and sentimentality/heard your kid slagging uz & saw demons in the mist on the windee (window, *******)/cutting my losses/tobogganing hopes/
the left side of my chest is 85 the last weeks/the streets in Brussels speak to me and are canny this time of year/I am not a francophone by predilection/making a secret pact with the universe not to mourn its passing/Every social situation is becoming like a casino for *******/Starting to feel a little bit more Panzram than Ghandi/Flanders is flat cos someone trod on it while under the drink/I might have fitted better into a bygone era- a bewildering lack of manual skills- what came first the dial up internet in your ma's back room or my cack handedness/Don't have owt to tell anyone anymore, don't give two shites nevermind one/Your step brother watches hollyoaks and eats ****** snacks while your step sister hums songs of unknown origin''.
A bumbling idiot's invented history of tyneside:
''I saw 3 cats attack a pigeon in heaton park as bobby thompson, aka the little waster, danced suggestively with the setting sun, a serviette tucked down his front to catch his dinner....................mike neville cried in the dark, while suckling away at a glass tizer bottle from the arcade chippy in whitley bay, that day there was no news on tyneside......T Dan Smith liked a snack as much as the next man...but what he really liked was to drink a pint of water everytime the clock struck 36- that way he could **** the toon into oblivion at his own behest or the behest of occult forces.....I found Gazza, shellsuited, eating a child's portion of cod and chips in St Paul's church yard, in his ruddyu red hand was a 6 pack of socks from winners (the flagship store). Abandoned between his feet were 50 notebooks from the fisherman's mission.....don't get me started on sting''.