Chatter

she. what are u listening to?
me.  melancholy song writers broken love tunes

she. ugh.  why?

me.  wanted to see how deep into the bed
I could sink,
till you came a looking to
play with me, my spirits to raise,
a game of capture the flag
indoors

--—————
Aural vs. Oral

her night dress rides up,
I awake to an undressed
waist and thigh,
take advantage of the pomp
& circumstance,
cause i believe
whole heartedly in
waiste not, want more

as tongue performs its
repertoire of magic tricks,
i.e. reciting poems,
to the standard whelps
and yelps of “oh its just you,”
keep hearing little tiny whispers
but not  those accustomed
sweet nothings?

turns out she is
listening to her book,
quite the mesmerizer,
on her new cordless earbuds
which are  tablecloth covered
by her blondini tresses

upset?

nah. applauded her
multimedia tasking,
but took it as a challenge,
my efforts redoubled

she didn't seem to mind

now she wakes me up to show me,
Surprise!
her cordless earbuds, in place

sigh.

--——————-
Ordering Coffee

weekends, get coffee in bed
in my 19 oz. porcelain
cup from Toronto,
standing order is:
fill it to the rim,
extra cream

she says.  
isn't ironic!
that is exactly
what I
charge for my coffee

payable in advance

Close your eyes
my dear.
Last words whispering
in my ear.
I feel your skin.
Such heavenly sin.
Your hand carressing
my waiste.
Your kisses so sweet.
Don't wake up
in this dream
where we meet.

I didn't mind the girl in the mirror.
The way her thighs touched
never bothered me.
She didn't have a small waiste
Nor an hour glass figure
Those things were never significant.
I've cared for my body
Grown in it
Accepted it.
The thing I don't like about my body
Is the pressure from mom
The assurance from sister
The remarks from teammates.
I like my body.
But I seem to be the only one.

4/30/11

a.)

caves of women
     lips that swallow fruit
**** down holiness
strange tangled legs
     vines of disoriented youth



b)
i met her at a beauty supply shop
    smacking gum& bad bleach
  hum
cherry lipstick pink
        i grabbed her hand
& took her out back
amongst the dumpsters
& orchid trees
    
     the orchard of our sour tongues
swung like a noose
in the sea
           see
              unsee


her blue contacts dried

    a shovel by her side

       this is what it means to

      be alive

      wanting but not waiting to do die

shoveling out a tombstone name
trying to force yourself

backwards in time

to make people & beauty stay
   on the broken ground we lay

    asphalt & fertilizer

    the afternoon sun
stinging shadows on our

      eyes
red, blk, white
she is speaking
lips part      like a   c l a m
   braces shining with spit


the whole of human history
   in her imprint
“can you…”
     her soft fingers  stroke
       my face

indent stories
   slow mo
       i’m by her waiste
cars & dogs rustle
    brown clouds    shoot
from factories
& hover in our hearts
    her fingers taste like
     hunger & salt

“…. go faster?”
      fun so fast
hoping to make

   it       stop.
      (all)

I'm having a hard time letting go.
Your soft embrace carresed my soul.
Inspired, I rize to meet my fate.
But fate, it seems, for me is waiste.
Tasted and saw.
LOVE IS LAW.
and I;
A criminal.

Dear traveller
don't waiste your emotions
let them stay
and nurish your soul

and keep feelings where hopes can find

I try to get in her head
Tell her she's ok
There were so many doubts...
Hair, waiste, skin, feet, eye, voice
All of it. None of it.
Her mother was no where
She was there, but not
Where she was needed.
She needed someone herself,
So it's easy to forgive...
Forgetting is too, when you're genuine.

Boys made her feel better.
Special, loved, noticed. Man,
I'm sad for her now.
Knowing what I know now,
Poor child.
The break down of the tribe.
No women to guide this young
Woman. Alone, most days. Quite
Naturally, unless anxiety set in.
Or I just really like you.

So I struggle to write about
Me.
Seems she couldn't be
If those days weren't seen.
I embrace what I've witnessed.
There's a message back there
I missed it . I trust her. She's guiding me
With intention.

So let's see...

Wicked dreams.
Thoughts of screaming.
Being killed in my sleep. Throat ripped
Open. Bleed in my dreams.
Being chased, watched, schemed.
Perhaps there's something here

Fear
How firm is it's grasp
Fear to be me...

I was scared to go home most days.
Hated summer vacation after a few weeks.
Longed for Mondays.
To be back in a place
I felt safe. School.
How insane. But true.

I'd look round the corner,
Hoping the lot was empty of red,
Maybe even he was dead.
He never died. He lied. They did.
So disrespectfully.
And to a kid?
Could have just kept some things
Private... Anyways,

It's the way it was.
I remember the Simpsons
More than feeling love.
Mom always seemed distant.
As I am now.
Best advice ! Go out and get it out!
Come back clean and focused
And ready to heal
The next.
They are here now watching,
Preparing poems of the future.
Alright let's get it all out...