all of a sudden passion suddenly

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extro-perversion
the finest unfit features
glean and gleam about you
as if a fire's lit behind your
baby blues
hues of incandescent
sun scorched beryl
phthalo marine
phallo obscene morphing
into a man-eating moth
toss up between here and where
makes me eenie meenie about it all,
all over again
my daily rite of wrongs
bite at us both,
despite the smarting of this love
we smile as one when it draws blood.
 
Plot

My plot went missing the other day,
I think it escaped from the story
I was writing about a headless chicken
called Bob who was involved in a plot
concerning abducted dogs and leprechauns.
I've searched all over the world for it, even
going underground in a salt mine
where I tripped
and fell into a sea
of quartz like fuses

before being swallowed by a mexican squid
called Alejandro
he'd being borrowing it all along,
said he needed it for his screenplay...
 
like an onion being peeled
layer by layer
i am loosing touch
with the reality
of all my what if's.
time was a dream
all I could ever hope for.
now, another ring
fry Daddied deep,
dangling
coming up done,
yes ... well done.
 
chemistry lab
we knew he never read the reports
it was impossible
you wrote him messages
cum drop visions and eight ball eyes
the levels of torture and torment
among bunsen burners pubic hairs and
stop cocks greased and ready
but he never read through to the conclusion
scanned over and counted through
problem hypothesis background procedure
data analysis conclusion check check
and baby I know you do not read through
this far either and if by chc chance you happen to
let this one slide through don't worry
I am far too drunk to be clever
sneak in a mysterious message
jump jump the pretty girls up on the chair
we call it a mouse
no one wants to say rat

truth is I got nothing against rats anyway
it just looks better if you jump up on that chair
as if he is the only one
who can save you
 
for Dana R

i only knew her by her lovely face
her never ending love and grace
inspired me if only to try a little bit harder

to love more to accept others
as they are, who was it that said
the good die young? Goodbye, Dana
and thank you..
I felt as though you loved me, too

:heart:
 
Pebbles

The sun lit up the pier
as the gulls danced
in and out of spitting
waves, gathering pebbles
for its daily slaughter.
The wind was silent then,
afraid to speak out against
nature's tyranny, afraid
to move, to save those
innocents that we all just
pick up to decorate our fireplaces.
 
a morning of rain grey and unseen
the yellow beak of an imaginary blackbird
a raindrop of stone
once the blood of a different bird
 
When I do think of you
and I do think of you often
deep in to the night asleep
and in broad daylight
I see your face
feel your lips
skinning me with your hips
fingers tip toe tracing
amazing how I fall into you
so easily like a well worn feather bed
your shape accepts me in perfect form
your heat engulfs me with its warm
soft cushion of sensuality
my reality is you us together
now now now now
how can reality happen
distance between near too far
far too near
where and when will be near perfect
near perfection
near you
 
The Piano

The lacquered half-wing
slowly opens, revealing
the wire-tendons inside;
slowly beating, mirroring
the symbiont in its pod.
The host feeds with every
note, drawing energy
from the illusion but never
the reality.
 
I dreamed I held my own dead body
it was wrapped in plastic carried in brown paper
like a ball of risen dough

I found a furnace and aluminum foil
but knew, knoew her4e would not be enough time
to really bake me to the ashes I longed to become

I held my body, raw, boneless in the bag
not wanting it to have a blackened crust
like a baked potato thrown on the flames
without heat of embers to sizzle the waters

I dreamed of being ash, in my dream
I dreamed only of somehow becoming ash.
 
good lord it is poetry reading night
and this time, I got the sitter and now
I have a new checklist to consider
make sure my make-up doesn't glitter
and no poems about stars or kittens
or, hmmm I am not sure but falling leaves
would probably not do it and I am far to old and
flabby to read seomthing sexy

I have been told that there are white boys
with dreadlocks living at the old library
where the readings are held.

I know one of them.
He never wears shoes.
Down the streets of Baltimore
with black sole leather, human leather
and me, I do not wear them either
not in the house, not to walk to the bus stop for the kids
I can take the comments from the driver
who only teases because he knows he is supposed to,

but I put them on to drive
or to walk down in the city
because I must be a godamn sell out
who wonders what the punk ass boy
at the bar is writing about her tonight
what truths will sting
what misperceptions will be aimed my way
but stopped by the paper shield
I hold in front of me

there would be more to say
if the bus did not come to the corner in minutes.

I did not swear during this whole motherfucking poem
and no one better get pissed off because it is about nothing
it is just about time
 
i am not one for tasting,
actually eating
flesh. just a lil
nibble, no escape
for you. mine to teasingly
taste, lick, slicked
back, rubbed clingingly
clean. raw like a carrot
in the nude. dip that
magnanimous baby
my way. rigidity is tested
by sliding
slithering snippets,
of before mentioned
carrot. yes, i love
that taste, fearsome
feel, and strummingly
touch. often and aplenty
please. even seconds,
if you don't mind. hell,
more even if you do mind,
my dream and i want it all ~

:p
 
the lady needs a lickin'

she remembers the exact moment
his chin stubble came
into contact with her scalded
and erect clitoris, oh god
how she remembered
the way he dug his face
into her fragile skin, she came hard
tugging at his ears, grunting
moaning like an animal
forcing herself upon his face,
buried along with his tongue
was his soul, thrashing
like a whale in a ten gallon tank
 
Cattle Conversation (Cow Talk)

Taste this for me
and let me know
if the bite
of truth is sharp
enough to tear
through tough hide
to the meat still
hanging from this
bone of contention.

I hate to ruminate
on and on over
little things
brought up like cud
to chew on until
all the good
has been sucked
out of it.

That's not so bad.

As long as someone
else is going
to clean the barn.
 
small miracles

he is awake again at 3 am
with shrieks and delerious giggles
I give up and by 4 am we are downstairs
in the kitchen.

I say
"You wanna make Rice Krispie Treats?"
He says
"Get butter" and opens the refridgerator door.

damn I would have gotten up at 2 am for that.
 
I'm sitting in my bunker
watching the clouds
hunting the sunlight,
trying to ignore the poem
that's screaming inside
my head

I can feel its claws
scratching against
my rubber brain

so I unscrew the bottle top
and let it fly

before shooting it down.

I never did like
that idea, anyway.
 
Mornings give no quarter
to the transgessions of night, the light
splintering brittle promises
made in a dark moment. Here
the coffee is scalding hot, the plates hurt
with their whiteness. Here,
when you say I love you
you better mean it.
 
Birdwatching

Buried in deep in the hide,
we watch the untethered
sky chase after the birds
on the lake.

Some fly, others don't;
remaining like pieces
on a chessboard

a metaphor that plays
over and over in my head,
but I still don't get.
 
spring fever

if ever there was an ugly flower
then it is outside my window
the maple is covered with them

I cannot imagine a bee or butterfly
being attracted to the tufts of wet taffetta
stained with black coffee
but it works anyway doesnt it
they still get their fuck on
seeds will be spinning helicopter style
in weeks

ob-la-di yeahyeahyeah
if those ugly bits can get it anyone can
just shake shake that groove
send that fluttered signal
the left fielder calls
I got it! I got it! to the third baseman
center fielder and short stop
all of whom get more than their damn share of the play time
jesus back off
let me get what I can get
motherfuckers take your infield fly rule
pickle it down I spit and stratch my balls balls
and spit again, something in my throat
the damn flowers are at it fuck dust
in my eyes
 
after I slept for a hundred years

I woke with a hacking cough
someone told me you had called
about a hundred times
left smoke signals and sky written messages
hoping when I came to,
my eyes would be skyward
but baby there is always a breeze
I woke with a hacking cough
sky words sputter, trapped in the plegm of slumber
and I cannot decide if the butterfly should land
or disappear into the sun at this point
someone told me you cant get smokes here anymore
they slapped a patch on my arm
it'll take care of those babies you don't want too and if you start feeling sad or ponder the reality of nothingness crammed into a hole, just give it a scratch, release that serotonin right into your skin it will

I roll over
go back to sleep
 
annaswirls said:
I woke with a hacking cough
someone told me you had called
about a hundred times
left smoke signals and sky written messages
hoping when I came to,
my eyes would be skyward
but baby there is always a breeze
I woke with a hacking cough
sky words sputter, trapped in the plegm of slumber
and I cannot decide if the butterfly should land
or disappear into the sun at this point
someone told me you cant get smokes here anymore
they slapped a patch on my arm
it'll take care of those babies you don't want too and if you start feeling sad or ponder the reality of nothingness crammed into a hole, just give it a scratch, release that serotonin right into your skin it will

I roll over
go back to sleep
Your message got lost in translation
it turned the world gray
no sun, no colors
no smoke signals
smog, smog and more smog

The air is not good here
when it's standing still
And it has. The ruins are all around
evidence is found burned
wherever I look, dragging heels
in the ashes. I'm waiting for a breeze

Why don't you whisper
blow your secret words into my ear?
 
neonurotic said:
Your message got lost in translation
it turned the world gray
no sun, no colors
no smoke signals
smog, smog and more smog

The air is not good here
when it's standing still
And it has. The ruins are all around
evidence is found burned
wherever I look, dragging heels
in the ashes. I'm waiting for a breeze

Why don't you whisper
blow your secret words into my ear?


wipe the dust layers down, down
tell me the story of the landslides
the meteor showers, the fires that sucked down the valley
back to our land that laid this ash

hold my breath hold the candle hold
me over we take turns
because we can

I have no secret words
your hair is shorter than I remember
it feels coarse under my fingertips
you breathe tragedy and I hear a love song
because that is what I want to hear
and what I want to sing
by the way of the passanger pigeon
and golden crested tamarin
we invent their mating dances
your neck twists, I follow
feathers fall and the sky clears

it is so hard to whisper my darling
when spring returns
 
A Plea For The Return Of A Wandering Thought

I get so frustrated when I feel it slip
beyond the edge
of this conciousness I strive
for. To keep it penned
and on the page I've opened
this book to
is all I want from this ink
I use to draw it in.

Stay stay
Stay in this cozy incubator
as I nurture
you into full growth
and then do what grown
ups do when there are no
more tears to shed

Come back to bed
and keep my soul
company.
 
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