all of a sudden passion suddenly

[vampiredust]

Tba

You watched
him from your office window,
noting the time he'd leave
his building. You'd talk together
as you walked on the same path
to the cafe by the station where
you all ate luch. When the streetlights
dimmed, you'd wait for him.
You never saw his head shaved,
the tattoos etched on his skin. No,
that was no your world. You could
never grasp that philosophy being
written down in his genes. He was yours.
But when he left, you were hoping
for something. Some reassurance,
a word rustling somewhere. All you received
was a postcard with no address
and the letters TBA scrawled in his DNA.

 

[RhymeFairy]

blog of passion ~

floating
as the river roars. soft
blue skies marry
cheeks
eyes, mouths meet
capturing the drift
of sea side merriment
adrift
accompanying couples
friend to friend
body to body
nursing another round
of the angels alchemy


~~~


needing someone
making love
no longer love
alone tonight as daylight
dials another number
introduced
to self induced obscurities
of myself ...


~~~


doodles and drawings
aligned in the sand
scriptures of time
drifting


~~~


i think i have lost my
mind. writing ingrained
in this soul. only to let go
means to show
truth
life is next door
where everything is
perfectly cut out
door to door salesmen, at home moms
and the olden days. taking a making
of my life seem cationic.
choked up feelings
struggle to be released
love
love has flown the coop, like chickens
cackling, first egg laid. good-bye
crying, hits hard at home
life
love
spa time in spare time
to recapture a lost mind
love
and self ...




sometimes it just aint happenin'

 

[SeattleRain]

::

He’s back at her back door
tap tap tappin’ soft
and sweet as a Hershey Bar
wantin’ nuthin’
but her screen door spread
wide and high on heels. Oh!
He’s so hungry
for that dark candy
he can taste it
on his fingers pulled slow
across his tongue. Her kitchen’s
in the rear, where it’s hot
and damp as a trickle
tickling down her spine.
When the fire’s stoked
and the panes are streaked
like curls matted to her forehead
she finds relief
in an unlatched door
and her skirts lifted
high in the back.

::

you speak in second person pronouns
is it to keep a space between us
or to invite more room for interpretation

you
I am interested in you
at my door
not he she they no
just you
and me
and the corian solid countertop
no scratch no give no marks
to give us away
except flesh bruised like the peaches
we knocked to the floor
hip bone banging on the edge
on the edge

you say you come for sweetness
but you bring me salt
flowers chocolate and love songs never suited us
salt and lemon and tequilla from the glass
skirt raised and ready baby
come on come on

a body like that outta be used for this
not a day wasted awake after she sleeps
alone that body should be against mine
slamming like a screen door that popped its spring
slick slip and oiled god love him
my backdoor man

 

[vampiredust]

The Wireless Man

She unzipped his wireless skin,
watched it float free of gravity
towards the ceiling where it collided
with the lightshade, creating artificial
darkness. That reminded him
of when he was in space, floating
in a capsule, heading towards the place
he had always wanted to be: the womb

 

[vampiredust]

Geek

I don't have a pen protector
I don't have a pda
I don't have plastic glasses
I don't have felt tip tattoed
on my chest
I don't understand your electric
screams echoing in my head
I don't know the codeword
to the resistance cell in your head
I have no privileges,
passwords or money

I can't log in

 

[wildsweetone]

you suction the joy
from my day like a breast pump

a mechanical pull and push
that clears you of emotional

bonding, an undoing of mother's
apron strings that opens

barriers for you and blinds
you to the bindings that hold

me here.

 

[RhymeFairy]

sitting in a slow groove
of southern nights. free
from work as darkness closes in
this soul is released to prance
around. apologies not given
for I need to reach out
touch those southern skies, thighs
taste a lil rum as it runs. old
new mix baby. give me a shake
and raunchy rumble as frightening
lightening streaks across soft
glowing tanned skin. paint
me with tongue, teeth
nips, bites. use me for naughty
midnight pleasures, for I shall
use you. over
and over, as my toy
of passion. love
your mistress of pain
no pain my pet, no gain ~

 

[vampiredust]

Manhood

There was nothing special
about that place, just a bathroom
in Hyde Park where men used
to spy on undeveloped boys,
watching them grow before exploding
like pollen being releasing in Springtime,
floating in the air before settling onto
an unopened flower.

 

[vampiredust]

Feet shuffle as I release everything
I've been developing over the last few years
onto the glossy graffitti scrawled onto
the cubicle wall.

I am not a man yet

 

[flyguy69]

you speak in second person pronouns
is it to keep a space between us
or to invite more room for interpretation

you
I am interested in you
at my door
not he she they no
just you
and me
and the corian solid countertop
no scratch no give no marks
to give us away
except flesh bruised like the peaches
we knocked to the floor
hip bone banging on the edge
on the edge

you say you come for sweetness
but you bring me salt
flowers chocolate and love songs never suited us
salt and lemon and tequilla from the glass
skirt raised and ready baby
come on come on

a body like that outta be used for this
not a day wasted awake after she sleeps
alone that body should be against mine
slamming like a screen door that popped its spring
slick slip and oiled god love him
my backdoor man

He packs tools, banging metal
in metal box, the squealing
hinge like a drawn breath. I'll fix it,
he says, the looseness, your wanton
springs, those things
that need tightening. He coils
the steel in his arms and lifts her
countertop, plants her
ass first on Corion, twisting
in his grip. A fisted braid,
a pinched tit, and the crashing box
explodes on the floor.

 

[vampiredust]

Watching A Funeral Take Place At St Marks Coptic Church, London

Women gather and kiss. Nobody weeps.
The widower brushes her beaded veil
as a fly buzzes past, fattened from
the deceased, ignorant as she laid her eggs
in what was left of his heart. The priest

tries to console the gathered party, but
they're not interested in heaven or hell,
nor the simple things of life. They have already
witnessed that slow march to the place
they already know, touched its blackening

loam. Their reflections have been caught
in the knotted whorls of the burial box,
and no matter how hard they try, it won't let
go.

 

[vampiredust]

The Man Who Never Daydreamed

He used to bend spoons as a child,
hoping to impress the other children
at school with his impression of Uri
Geller; that never happened and he
would walk back home in a bruised skin.

His sister would pretend to be a lawyer,
her brother would her assistant, typing
up cases of assault on dollies committed
at tea parties attended by the president,
the teddy. When he dreamnt, he was not

taken to the places he desired. At 9.30 p.m
his day would begin in the office. He would
be dressed for work in his dreams, attending
meetings on the efficiency of paper printers,
sketching out diagrams on the back of napkins

in the diner, where all the women resembled
actresses out of films that bombed at the box
office and all the clients were shaped as abstract
paintings; never fitting in, always coming apart.
That was his life. A man who would never dissect life,

in all its parts.

 

[4degrees]

sought out a place
for passion to fall
into the right hands
wrong
i'm here, its never as far
as i make myself feel
the real spontanety of all this
a few seconds just to try
to lay it out
poems are hard to come by
text message prose is
tedious, and the
words 'i love you'
still sound the same
but mean more
than ever before
creeping up on you, baby
i get an inch closer every day
maybe i'll make it to you
before my time ends.

lilies and scent of gardinia
and a breese in the sun
are never the things of
poems, to me
its all just more
fuck
and desire
and insatable crave to
be with
eat up completely
that one poet
up north.

i love you

 

[vampiredust]

his smile curled up when he
saw her, folding into the edges
of his mouth like a piece of rolled
parchment. he had never been
comfortable with her near him,
as if her slightest movement
would cause him to convulse,
every bone shifting places on
the atomic dancefloor and he
would be the only without a partner.

 

[vampiredust]

People could never dissect
you. You would always try
and recreate life with a geometry
we could never understand,
hoping that the angles would
add up. But we would always
be left there, an equation
never balance, never understood.

 

[RhymeFairy]

lay him out. A slow
cooked
dream, simmered
and sautéed
with a rich 'n creamy
creation
of spice, naughty
and nice. Lap up
his steamy
stew with forked
tongue, spooning in
suckling out. Teasing
a taste, pleasing
a millisecond pace
slow
easy
surveying,
my masterpiece
now
on to dessert ...

millisecond .. grr ...hourly , lol
needs work, almost had it ~

 

[MissBri]

 

[Maria2394]

blame it on Oprah

cause I grew a spine,
I know who I am, and
I know who you arent
and you arent a man

blame it on Oprah
cause I know I deserve
someone better than you
stronger than you
kinder and gentler and more trusting
than you

blame it on Orpah
cause Im outta here
while youre sitting there
your dick in your hand, and
the women with the breadstick

stuck in her cunt isnt me
and never will be,
and dont bother blaming Oprah for that
its something I worked for
something I dug from the depths
of what was left of my soul
afetr you careved me up
and left me for dead

 

[Willows_Tears]

my grandmom wore this beautiful pin
a white gold moon with diamond stars
hanging from silver chains

she told me I could have it when she died, which was weird because people in our family never ever talk about dying.... but when she did, I think I was 10, and we searched her place, we could not find it. Looking back, I bet it was one of those free things you get from entering a contest by buying a magazine subscription but it was diamonds and gold to a 10 year old.


My grandmom sparkled
and wore faux fur around her neck
I saw her real hair once or twice
corn silk fine under short grey wigs
when I slept overnight in her trailer
she pushed two chairs together
(that she was re-caning for a friend)
and covered it with an afghan
(that she was crocheting for a friend)
for my bed but not before
teaberry ice cream and Tang
the astronauts would have loved
my grandmom
she would have made them easter baskets
out of plastic strawberry crates
and bits of felt
she would have decopaged them up
a plaque with christmas cards
of the holy star
drawn in their Apollo whichever
and finished it off with some crackle finish
to make it seem like we had been in space
forever

 

[vampiredust]

Why Don't Cats Eat Pasta?

I often imagine them
trying to get grips
with a long strand
of spaghetti, toying
with it as if it were
another tail or a worm
dug out for their pleasure.

There are eccentric
old women out there,
I know; who dress up
their dogs in antique
lingerie or pretend their
animals are part of Little
Bo Peep, who live each day

as if it were a nursery ryhme
until the Big Bad Wolf (pardon
the cliche) comes and blows
their house down. Oh wait.
That's another question
and I still haven't answered
the first.

 

[vampiredust]

The Blond Gene

You know when it hits.
You'll be in the middle of something
and the plates start to crash
on the kitchen floor, you'll stop
and pretend they're a motif;
one of the latest french designs
and won't pick up the pieces.

In the supermarket, you'll get confused
with melons and scoops of ice-cream,
thinking the two are the same. You'll
wander aisle to aisle thinking you're
trapped in a shoe box, an experiment
conceived by scientists with nothing
better to do.

And then it hits you:

You're blonde

 

[Many Feathers]

Letting go...

It took a while, but I finally let go

I let go of the magic that we found

let go of promises made trust given

second chances and then third

I let go of your smile and laughter

I had to, it wasn't meant for me

I let go in order to find myself again

You walked away and I was lost

You took my heart and threw it back at me

It took a while to put it back inside

I had to let go of the person I thought you to be

I had to, you didn't really exist.

It was only a dream that became a nightmare

It was stupidity to think it would ever be otherwise

I had to wake up.

I have

 

[Willows_Tears]

this morning I tried to speak
the old testiment was stuck in my throat
thee and thou and holy decrees
and he says to me
careful girl
your whirlwind is showing
lift your skirt
show me to the trim
your panties are without lines
move me move me to the forbidden times
schiffli lace on the edges
you always liked the edges
between what you can have and what is hidden
your fingers ache to open the shades
above my knees
with thous and thees
and holy decrees
you cannot have me

 

[Willows_Tears]

crippling my prey
is always more satisfying
after the experience of being overpowered
taken
made to beg and tilt
and hold the air inside my lungs
until told breathe
and the oxygen returns to my extremities
in a flood and nerves jump
muscles pulse with the release

then
then is when I want you for myself
tight ring around the base
keeping you in beyond the point of comfort
hobbled and helpless
I hold your world in my mouth
and make you disappear

 

[TheRainMan]

Hitchhiking

the story of salvation—I’ve read it
in my dreams. there’s something odd
in needing that good haunting to begin,

in longing for the echo of the thud
of nightfall. it makes me wonder
why it’s a place I can’t find in the sun,

on a map’s blue highways,
or wander past by accident,
or think my way into,

why it shows up when I lay my head
down, when my thoughts
are as forced as the breath

that pulls me one mile to the next,
as vain as the thumb
that opposes no hand, black road.