"unzips" poems
A duality of elan vital, two people
Spectres of emotion
Intertwined by a fuselage of bruised skin & tendon
Tissues become orbital, gushing towards grafts
Helixes of snot, **** and lymph
Boy & girl
As they embrace the animating principle and eachother, they fuse
A one piece tapestry adorned seamless with no hem, beginning or end
Always was, always is
Patiently turning to liquid as their being unzips
Lying figures of runny makeup and genetic *****
Quintessence, a texture of synaptic potential
Corpus Callosum
An entirety of self, lost in imbued disintegration
Theory of mind, looped & bound
I will water the thought
Roots envisaged in dystopian amygdala
Piercing data packets with a frost-like intensity
Forgetting our obsolescence moments ago
A neuron dipped in nylon
Theta waves and the non-euclidean crux of dissociation
Ghosts in the machine, your macro god
The sympathies of fractional distillation
Digitised/assimilated unto the nanosphere
Cold hands and brass backs galvanised in oscillated tears
Commodified, sold out and bought
Stretching, from purple, white and black
slowly losing its colour, amorphous in shape
brushed across a smudge, ambiguously chromatic
Monetised flesh god
An eternity bathed in starlight
Cutting an incision in the sky to allow entropy
Divided dimensions of energy
Fleeting and intangible
No longer a delirium of seperation
All semantics become light
As a rusted vehicle passes overhead
And all the worlds questions fade out of existence
Flutters of red tape and foregone growth of practice
Sinew flayed, integrated towards information
Our minds shared
In circuits and resistors
Photons and electrons
We radiate
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC
They're feverish with desire
Eclipsed in love
Raging like a black smoke fire
****** scents rising above
The pheromones they release
Must be smelled miles away
They've missed this, the tease
And liquid glances, it's been days
Since, either have touched the other
But they still feel that ****** tension
On every inch of their skin
When they're finally away from prying eyes
Their lips mesh, his hands move to her thighs
And hers slide up through his hair
Gripping on tight
They could be spotted, but neither cares
He pushes her hard against the wall
Bringing her legs around his hips
She thanks heaven she wore a skirt
And quiets a moan by devouring his lips
He quickly, fervently unzips his jeans
Releasing himself and promptly
Entering her sweet, wet heat
He groans as he swallows her scream
Then pounds in hard, fast, ferociously
She rocks her hips with a delicious little motion
Squeezing her core tight, biting his lips
Coming almost instantly when he growls with delight
He thrusts harder, incessantly feeling her getting tight
Moving her ankles to rest on his shoulders
He delves his shaft as deep inside as he can reach
She scratches scars along his back
And they kiss so deep like it's the final feast
She throbs in her core as another wave hits at full force
Starts going weak as she comes once more
Feeling her liquid pour, brings him to the edge
He grips her ankles stretching the limits of her flexibility
Then roars into her sweet mouth as he comes, vigorously
He lets her legs go, but holds her upright
They both sigh knowing it's the beginning of the night,
And that was just a quickie
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC
as RNA polymerase
quietly unzips your
DNA and moves along
the length of your genes
and a bit of RNA
emerges and moves
through the cytoplasm,
after the snRNPs do
their work, of course
and your ribosomes
attach and tRNA does
its noble job fixing
to its anti-codons
linking the peptide chains
of the building blocks
of life
as all this happens
I close my eyes
and kiss you
gently on the cheek
and you smile a little
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 3:06 PM UTC
Sleep like when quiet
Monopolized your ears
Except maybe a ting
An occasional ting
Of a wind chime
Sleep like when diligence
Granted you rest
From your day of completions
You were so thorough and
Always on time
Sleep safe
With the noises and clatter
Of all you hold dear
Knowing they are close
Sleep like when exhaustion
Squeezed the last lucid bit out
Made you pay for your excess
With a punishment
Kinder than most
Sleep with innocence
Not only in the night
But when dust swims across
The warm, thick daylight
Sleep in transit
While the bright yellow dash
Unzips dark highways
And your warm forehead
Bounces on the cold window
Sleep like the way
It takes me now
Lords over all
You ever become
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 8:44 PM UTC
The wicked, they come
In a cerulean dream.
The cellar door opened,
With an opposable thumb.
A disposable past
And no ties in the future,
They live within ******
And die through their caste.
Oh, Ford! They cry out
For all of their blessings.
Oh, Ford! I cry too,
To drown silent doubt.
“Take me to your room.”
She breathes, voice coppered,
She conducts me. Unzips in
One movement, fit to bloom.
“Lenina,” I call,
Eyes blinded by her colour.
In a world so built and grey,
I live only in her sprawl.
We finish, my heart descending.
She nicks her lips to my ear,
Then reminds me thus;
“Ending is better than mending.”
To bed we fall; once, twice, thrice.
Each time I cling longer,
Wrap her in bedsheets,
‘Till she feels our ****** splice.
With no use, she’s gone
To some other embrace.
Some cold shouldered support,
Then to the salon.
She’ll tell all to her friends,
A gaggle of giggles.
And he’ll speak of her,
Like some means to an end.
“Pneumatic,” is she,
He’ll say with no stutter,
“You should have her,” he’ll offer,
Like the fruit from a tree.
No, like meat, like meat,
She is passed around.
Like animals, the Alphas
Bruise, **** and maltreat.
Community. Snake-like,
It moves as if one.
Each person a muscle,
Not separate but a part.
Identity. It blurs,
‘Till I forget the use
Of my name. Push it out,
Repeat in my dreams.
Stability. It comes,
A two-gramme holiday.
A superficial guffaw
That veneers my face.
Oh, Soma! Come take me,
From where I don’t belong.
To where passions are birthed
Far from the hatchery.
To where feelings are heartfelt,
Not found in a pill.
Where waistlines aren’t throttled
By a Malthusian belt.
A savage I am,
In my pursuit for more.
When I long for freedom,
And not another half-gramme.
Gaia, she held us in her womb.
From fish to ape, she mothered too.
Now all that’s left is this soulless gloom
Where man is born only to consume.
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 11:08 AM UTC
☯
Full Lakota moon,
unzips me from her womb &
dismantles this love.
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 9:20 PM UTC
I saw it a few days ago
I chanced a glance into the void
The place in which all emotions fall and seclude themselves
The place where there are no stars and there is nothing but loud space
She'd just tore away from me
A small tear in the muslin
But she pulled and pulled
Until the void was exposed in my shredded star chart
That subtle darkness in the undertones undulating thickly
Turbulent waves beneath the glorified surface thinness
And behind the closed door it-
It was just a second really
And the hopeless scientist behind me
The dark and big and pragmatic and meek
He didn't see
But he knew
And he wanted it back
And again
She left me frayed
In another winter
Before I could look to the skies and find meaning
When our world was lit only by the fires of forthcoming fears and futile flickers
What clouded the far-off pinpricks, the soft pinching of reality knocking at my door?
It was her straight-edge fragility
And her straight-edge solution
Now her world is lit by a different kind of fire
A fire that numbs
So she said
A fire that heals
So she claims
A flickering flame that destroys every membrane of my being
And binds my hands to my feet
And shoots wildly across the sky
So I cry
And I weep
And I, a universe of atoms
feel like a lost atom in her universe
I safely encased in my crinkled paper, but
Hot holes slowly eat their way through
No maps or constellations face any competition before her
But all she sees is a world of comets and fire
My short fuse is wilted
So she unzips her skin with a zippo
And she freezes time
And she runs across my horizon
Bright, beautiful, blazing
She is forever above my hands
Her path unseen and unforseeable
A spectators daydream
The astrologists' nightmare
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 12:04 AM UTC
The cold dissonance formed like the frost on a leaf of late October - It's the way it crumbled.
They believed in what they were subject to
like not conveying feelings is in fashion
I tell you its a flawless fall
Thus closes the locket shaped like love that held it all side by side, a thousand words less.
And you flash your teeth as a smile unzips across your face, gaze at your reflection and all you see is an endless maze.
We have reached the point of no return, you have no choice but to embrace the gathering dark.
The currency is forgiveness but our pockets are empty.
You think that dying alone is inevitable and the "antihero" of our hearts never gets the girl.
But it doesn't have to be that way just for the sake of poetry. Drop the broken sword.
Indelible feelings brought us to the table, a setting of conjecture and dying settlements. The question is "Who deserves peace?"
Pick up the pen and write your name.
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 6:39 PM UTC
Rolling in wave upon wave of words.
Sentences dressed right, en echelon, like pretty hued soldiers
with armor and frills of meaning unfurled.
I can see their smiles gleam
with the slap-dash of their waving standards.
The gypsy, unzips her paragraph
like the Red Sea before Moses;
she has rewritten the song of the seducing hand
that writes the words, that pens the curve of a gentle wrist,
that drains of the belletristic wells of the heart.
All to flow from Egypt through the canyon of the mind,
Weathered words, crumbled from the cave of allegory
Sliced from the loaf of pharaohs love.
Flow on river, flow by
leaving green brush in the crags where eagles nest.
Friend of ****** swelled by spells of copulation
Hers is the scent that draws the sleeping bear
From carnal dreams, dripping blood-words.
Bleed for waxing moon, bleed the scent of still stars,
oh do I love this vicious bearer of words in sun struck birth.
Die dear gypsy on the battlefield of parchment
Expel the reek of your pen impaled body
Rise hoary hope on the wind inhaled by God.
He who draws her up, heart first
Through those once read lips, but forever colored…
Red, red! For they are still read by my heart
Hewn homonym from the hue of her lips kiss
There is a silent word mouthed in this nymphs holler.
And I press my ear closer to that womb.
To read, to read… listen please, my erudite heart.
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 3:01 AM UTC
Chair scrapes lino
Dark eyes gaze
Over every facet
Of smokey haze
Spearing the duck
Pursing your lips
Yell in your head
Your voice unzips
A fraudulent noise
A family poised
Dinner.
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 1:30 AM UTC
I behind her watching in the cold room she unzips
my gift blue bagged and pink skinned pungently
I exhale she inhales turning away from
my half-closed eyes closing her eyes
stinging from the stench of
my body given for her
for the blade of her scalpel to
slice she cuts along my spine
and I trace ghostly fingers in a line
down her shivering back to say there
that is the place where
what you see beneath in me is you.
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 10:38 PM UTC
Nineteen forty four: A broad shoulder silhouette in the milkwhite skyscape.
Winged coy mortality whispers lovewords to his temple
touches fire to his inner thigh and he
pushes her aside and says Maybe tomorrow,
I'm working late tonight.
And he is cold and american but he tells himself
He is Cold! and American! And even in the
sandbag eyelid opal gray morning when his skylegs shake
he is cold and American and his copper girl's
thrilling reproach cannot warm him red
until he unzips his vest and invites her in.
but in forty nine he is twenty seven and American. in forty nine, to be American is to have no skylegs.
but baby death writes him letters while jean marie in her cap-sleeves looks pretty at his side.
and he likes jean marie, he tells himself he likes her better. she is pretty and she is sturdy.
she can make love without leaving burn marks.
but he wears slippers and housecoats and he has no skylegs.
and jean's cap-sleeves show no skin. fire hurt to touch but at least she let him.
and so twenty seven and scared, he reads baby death's neat tiny scrawl
and feels her breath on his earlobe
and winged
coy
he falls to forty four
and flying
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 7:01 PM UTC
Hello dear friend
how do you do
heard from a little birdie
you found a new boo
now I know it might be pretentious
what I dare to assume
but darling we both know
what I'm about to say is true
I don't doubt one day
this pretty young thing
will be giving you those ***** bedroom eyes
as she slowly unzips your fly
she takes you in whole
performs that sickly divine act
inevitably your mind will wander back
to a time before
where this was our norm
a dissatisfaction will arise
one you won't ignore when you realize
this new girl can't **** like a *****
her lips aren't mine and that's such a shame
because baby we both know
I had no trouble making it rain
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 8:19 PM UTC
She unzips
the zip of my jeans
her mother's
in the kitchen
getting drinks
-soft drinks
not hot stuff
in this heat-
her fingers
thin and spidery
search for my fellow
I anxious stare
kitchen-ward
at the maybe
approaching mother
he's slack
she says
soft voice
breathing
disappointment
he sleeps
it's his siesta
in this heat
I say
not looking away
Milka zips up the fly
and licks her
spidery fingers
one by one
here you are
her mother says
on returning
with drinks in hands
nice and cold
and straws for both
and lays them down
on the table where
we stood
she smiles
Milka frowns
and my fellow sleeps
that's good.
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
The aroma is hot, people heaped together like the pooling of the water fountain as it sprays on the grass
People have set up lawn chairs
Mostly elderly people who have time to sit in the park
Flies wiggling around them
As they listen to a rock band that sways like perplexed grass and sings like the words don't matter and only the guitar, the absolute intricacy of the guitar, is heard
I notice
Ahead of me
an elderly lady
Brown hair cut into a blob on her head
Lipstick, floral dress
Skin that is starting to fold
She feels hungry and opens the cooler
To display a pre-bought sandwich and a plastic bag
She unzips the bag carefully and gingerly takes out a
crisp, pressed white napkin
Which she doesn't end up needing anyway
I can't help thinking that there is irony to this
How something as trivial as napkins can point back to generations before
When the lady was younger
She sat in the glimmering sun in the tall, waving grass
A young man sat beside her
They laid on the gingham
Together
As watermelon juice trickled down his chin
"Poor you!" she laughed. "I forgot to bring the napkins!"
The reality is, she didn't forget
There was no mess to be cleaned up
There was only youth speckled with love and you would be a fool to miss the opportunity when watermelon stuck frozen to his chin so that when you kissed him you could taste the lingering fruit
Years later
She's bouncing in the living room with her little girl
Brown ringlets, just like her
They're eating spaghetti
The kind that is doused in a crimson sauce so that when the strands wiggle on her chin it leaves a trail of red
"Poor you!" she laughs. "I didn't give you a napkin."
The reality is, she didn't forget
There was no mess to be cleaned up
There were only children speckled with love and you would be a fool to miss the memory of crusted spaghetti sauce and that dimpled smile with holes in her mouth
Years later
She thinks about the times when she forgot the napkins
Thinking she'll be practical this time she swipes a few
But she forgets the plastic bag
One day she remembers it but she forgets to close it
The surprise is a family of ants
Now
With the music fading and the air electric
She knows there is no mess to be cleaned up
But she brings out the plastic bag of napkins anyway
She holds on to the velvety scrap and breathes
It is the one connection to her past life
Someone spills something
Finally
"Poor you!" she laughs. "I forgot the napkins."
The reality is, she didn't forget
She hides them in her purse - that Mary Poppins of a possession
And smiles
Because she would be a fool to miss it
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 8:53 AM UTC
As above...
...Your sky-dial feline mind, unzips
Bold rose-hip teems of fervour, kept
On ice, throughout the needle of
the duty-bound laborious.
You have geared the slug of
greased machines have
waited tables overseas,
have moved your shoes
to rythms of inconsequence.
So below...
Call talons from your lava skin,
in tracings of a milky way, step
ladders through the cotton fields
to set aside a broken string.
Float, leaf, about your symetries
to crook your spine in Gothic arches.
Sovereign , deep in quicksand warmth
through paths of least resistance.
Dissolve in waves of ageless truth
dashesd amber over Roman tiles.
In wild writhes of curling fern,
Your body shines obsidian.
Jan 2, 2017
Jan 2, 2017 at 6:14 AM UTC
I find myself unconsciously knowing
What's been held all my years vastly growing
Deeply imprinted within my soul
Always open, sore, an empty hole
Feeling wounded, bleeding but nothing drips
Unveiling a heart that unzips
Open for all to see
What lies beneath, inside of me
Covered,drowning in tears
Consumed, overwhelmed, I hold many fears
Knowing this embracing it will set me free
Understanding, realizing this is who I'm meant to be
I feel it, you hear but cover your ears
I am alright the blur that was swiftly clears
Can't you see, put down your hands, uncover your eyes
Yes, I have a heart that always cries
I am built of sorrow, I say this strong
This is who I am, why change there's nothing wrong
I pray the way I am never ceases
That the sorrow that made me never vanishes.
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 1:19 PM UTC
She's wrapped up tightly, with one leg dangling off the bed,
He enters, She hears his every move,
She wonders if there's any use in begging anymore,
His draws open, He unzips the empty suitcase,
She feels her chest tighten,
He tosses things in the bag,
She tries not to gasp for air,
He closes his draws,
She tightens her grip on the sheets,
He walks to the closet,
She chokes back the lump in her throat,
He grabs his shoes,
She can't bare to move,
He walks to the bed, watches her struggle,
She wants to stop him,
He doesn't want to leave,
"Please, no." She pleads to herself,
"Tell me don't go" He continues to think.
Dec 17, 2011
Dec 17, 2011 at 10:08 PM UTC
White shirts,
Chicken nuggets,
Kisses your brother,
Writes to your mother,
Reeks of stale cologne,
Always misplaces his keys.
Laughs like rain,
Fixes his tie,
Melts into your skin,
Drown in his eyes,
Golden as the sun,
Bitter as the night.
Drinks too much,
Watches you cry,
Ties knots in your hair,
Screams like dad,
Mismatches his socks,
Kisses you goodnight.
***** his teeth,
Rolls his eyes,
Corrects my typos,
Sleeps inconsistently,
Drives in reverse,
Cracks eggs with one hand.
Writes you poems,
Plays you guitar,
Traces your spine,
Kisses relentlessly,
Unzips your soul,
Keeps himself in a jar.
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 11:39 PM UTC
She unzips slowly down her spine
Will you be her valentine?
Lips to linger at your kiss
Soft hands reach for wanted bliss
Who will save this girl defined
Untamed, reckless valentine
Someone love her as she’s wished
Hold her tight, do not vanish
Show her there is love this time
Since you’ll be her valentine
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 2:11 AM UTC
Tender lips, slender hips
Bright red painted fingertips
Glide to where her dress unzips
And slowly she begins to strip.
He feels his heart begin to skip
He didn't fall for her, he tripped
Yet somehow he would lose his grip
Whenever she would dance...
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 9:50 PM UTC
"I had fun tonight."
The keys are in the door,
His hand is on the small of her back.
When she turns for one more kiss,
He helps by pulling her into him.
His arms are wrapped tightly.
They can't get enough.
Suddenly the door is thrown open
And they are on the other side of the doorway.
He quickly reaches back to close it,
Keeping always one arm around her thin waist.
Her feet no longer touch the floor,
But their lips never unlock.
The bedroom is up the stairs and down the hall,
I don't think either of them can wait though,
The living room will have to do.
The coffee table is nudged,
The couch receives them readily.
Slowly, slowly he unzips her tightly-fitted red dress.
Working his hands gently down her back,
The red dress comes off willingly with one tug.
Breathing heavily, she sits up,
Perched on his hips, she starts furiously unbuttoning his white dress shirt.
This simple task cannot take any longer.
"Wow."
They both breath taking in each other's bare chests.
Entangling her fingers in his hair,
It begins again.
His lips are so gentle and sure,
He needs no guidance,
From lips, cheek, neck, to her soft, strong shoulders.
She knows to slide one hand caressingly around his shoulder,
Down his side,
And let it sit just below the belly button.
Teasingly.
He's anxious.
She's ready.
There's nothing now to stop them.
The sun is up.
Her head is resting on his chest.
He's playing with her messy, morning hair,
With the other arm wrapped desirably around her waist.
Their eyes meet.
A wink,
A giggle follows,
Soft "Good morning," kisses are shared.
It's not long before his wandering hand finds her bare **** cheek.
Squeeze.
It begins again.
Xoxo.
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 5:24 PM UTC
Toscar and I barely know one another. We burst into the house like two lions, scrapping, kissing.
******* hell. This place is huge.”
I have a desperation. His parka is wet.
“You’re so cute.” He says as he hauls me upstairs. He unzips my jeans, throwing open doors, trying to find my room. His hair is biscuity and thick. “You’re so **** So cute.”
At around three o’clock we sit in the cold garden, smoking. He’s put his parka back on, with the hood up.
“So, what’s going on with your eye and all?”
“I’m not sure. I have to have an MRI.” I glance over at him. “Maybe I’m dying.”
“You’re not dying.”
“Maybe I am.”
He exhales a ball of smoke.
“My mum died of motor neurone disease.” He says. “Horrible ******* thing. And there’s a fifty-fifty chance I’ll get it too.” He pauses and fumbles around in his pocket, pulling out a pound coin. He starts flipping the coin a little bit, before putting it back in his pocket. I think he wants to make a point about his chances, but it’s too dark to really see the coin. “I just don’t think about it. Death. There’s no point. I’m alright today, d’y’know what I mean?” There is a silence.
“My boyfriend died.” I say, eventually.
“Yeah, I know.” He says quietly. “Anthony told me.”
I try to stop myself. I really do. But I start to cry. Toscar doesn’t care. He pulls his white chair over to mine, and he lets me cry and cry and cry.
“I don’t want to be here anymore.” I say, and I’m not sure if I mean here, in the garden, in the house, or here, in the world. It doesn’t matter what I mean, anyway.
“Hey, mate.” Toscar says, very gently. “You didn’t die.”
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 6:00 PM UTC
Boom Boom
Bam Bam
You hear that?, It’s a heart that beats for you.
It kicks and flips and dips for you
It wraps love up and unzips for you
Boom Boom
Bam Bam
You hear that, It’s a heart that stays with you.
It drops and lifts the day for you
Would cross the milky way for you
Misses you by night, so it choses to pray for you
It would go away or stay for you
Boom Boom
Bam Bam
You hear that, It’s a heart that breaks for you.
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 10:35 AM UTC
I HAVE A *****
THOUGH IT'S QUITE SMALL
IT LIVES IN MY BRAIN
AS DEFINED BY FREUD
WHEN I THINK AT ALL
IT GETS SO *****
NOT A TENT
OR MULTI STOREY CARPARK
CAN KEEP MY SECRET
WOMEN DO NOT HAVE NAMES
WHO PLAYS ONLY GAMES?
iF WISDOM [ETHEREAL] DIED
WHO COULD MEASURE OUR SIGHS
WHEN WOMEN MELT
MEN PHOSPHOURESCENT
AND AFTERWARD
SAY
WHAT A HIGH TIDE
A MAN UNZIPS
TAKES A ****
THEN SKATES
A MAN URINATES
PLANTS A TREE
CHOPS IT DOWN
A MAN MAKES A DRINK
WOMAN THROWS UP IN THE SINK
TAKE A CARE
DESTROY DESPAIR
WHAT IS NAME
WHAT IS NAME
YES PLEASE
TAKE YOUR NAME
MULTIPLY BY THREE
DIVIDE BY 2.5
HAVE JIVE
DESTROY
CREATE
PROCREATE
RECREATE
CREATE AGAIN
WRONG
RIGHT LEFT
PUT YOUR SOCKS ON YOUR EARS
CAPITALISE ON FEARS
SELL YOUR SCENT
FOR DETERGERENT
WORDS WE CANNOT SPELL
RULE DAY TO DAY
THINGS WE CANNOT SMELL
RUN RUN AWAY
AWAY
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 3:01 AM UTC