all of a sudden passion suddenly

[RhymeFairy]

caution: drunken ramblings ...

I pick this day
to sell out.
a soap box ramblings of wants, needs.
no need to expire from reading post-its
just sit back, relax
and know I chose this
I went
I did
I am

obliterated, by
one bottle
two bottles, three
then four. also, add a tasty appetizer
to this bag of fruity frenzy. a good measure
to start my riot. I stand by

watching
walls walking with white washed legs
creeping into my subconscious, sublime dreams baby
with lemon mixers, peach snap
pictures. green, lush tress
hot, steamy tub
naked patrons partaking a dip.
euphoria
me, you
slicing into a cranberry dive
waving, wavering of lights out
last call
last call


..

 

[vampiredust]

Gazaliyah


You watch him carefully,
pulling the bicycle out
of the rubble. Stork legs
of fallen antennae

are cut loose and its first
eye is stretched until
the rest of its body is free.
This is not a bicycle

anymore, it is a symbol
of his desire. One more
for his harem, another
plot to dig in the future.

 

[Minervous]

.....

 

[vampiredust]

Aerial

The rope is like a fuse, the knot the spark
that touches off the gelignite
packed in my loins and heart. You are
the pyrotechnician who planned this show.
I am just your firework. Drop me in your mortar,
touch, and off I go.

simply awesome, Min

 

[vampiredust]

Path

There are maps
of where we need to go
tucked between your breasts,
a path already charted
through thighs and that mound

placed neatly above a cave
where its moisture
makes all compasses sway
briefly, before pointing north,

the magnetic fields of your body
bending particles in the sky,
lighting up the way with our
version of the northern lights.

 

[vampiredust]

Experiments in Sincerity

The gaps between the floorboards
in her flat are filled with roses
left behind by impatient lovers
who made love to an answer phone

but never a human being.
Her mobile phone is a signaling
device used to attract the other
members of her pseudo cult

delving into the mysteries
of the lunchtime special
at a sawdust restaurant lit up
at night with a neon montage

of a hooker bending over,
her ass nearly reaching the moon.
She thinks its funny
and sometimes likes to dress up

in homage to the would be idol:
donning a Monroe wig and fishnets
that could catch whitebait if left
near the sea. Boob tubes

mean nothing, nor does diaphragm.
It's only the look, she says,
before turning back into a shadow
on Plato's repair shop in the morning.

 

[vampiredust]

And if there are things

When you have lived alone
for a sufficient period of time,
say, several decades,
the things around you

become part of your anatomy.
The car, for example,
is just an extension of your legs,
whilst kitchen shelves

are another eye to spy
on those things waiting to pop
out of the shadows.
Each one of these objects

becomes reborn in the years
afterwards, settling themselves
in the sediment of the bones
collapsed from handling them,

never noticing the roughness
built in; a defence mechanism
meant, I think, only for the
unsuspecting, not for the blind.

 

[vampiredust]

Language Thief

Direct personal contact
with other languages
through their immediate
families was barred

in my household,
each one of their verbs
and adjectives stored
in miniature canopic jars

swallowed by Father.
I could hear their foreign
snore when he slept,
rising out of his fatty cliffs

and into my eardrums.
Waking up in the morning
was like coming out
of prison, eager to cut open

the stomach of the jailer
and retrieve the keys
to what had been lost,
never knowing it had already
been anticipated

and the contents thrown
away.

 

[4degrees]

an existance forced
unknown source of pleasure
centering and swirling
making black the brightest color
memorandum is endless, let it
be known that
complete ownership of
a soul induces
the most powerful expulsion
of violent love
ever
never again will the question
arise, within blue eyes i
see my past and future
put together in a collage pasted
with sticky fuck glue
this form of you
that my mind molds constant
mental fingers pushing at clay
everyday, sculpting away
and it never completes.

 

[RhymeFairy]

an existance forced
unknown source of pleasure
centering and swirling
making black the brightest color
memorandum is endless, let it
be known that
complete ownership of
a soul induces
the most powerful expulsion
of violent love
ever
never again will the question
arise, within blue eyes i
see my past and future
put together in a collage pasted
with sticky fuck glue
this form of you
that my mind molds constant
mental fingers pushing at clay
everyday, sculpting away
and it never completes.

I like this one Curt. Feel a bit, left unsaid, but I still get it and maybe that's all that needs to be said eh ~ Nice write ~

 

[RhymeFairy]

you know me not

in passion I speak, knowing you listen
with turned head. away from quiet times
deep inside the forest where trailing trees tear drops
supple down. a warning to step away.
listen better next time, for days are fast
wrapped foliage. from one customer to the next
step away. step, away ~

 

[4degrees]

you know me not

in passion I speak, knowing you listen
with turned head. away from quiet times
deep inside the forest where trailing trees tear drops
supple down. a warning to step away.
listen better next time, for days are fast
wrapped foliage. from one customer to the next
step away. step, away ~

and oh, i like this too...great write. compression of a huge feeling into these few, but powerful lines. good to see you, girl.


oh and thankyou.

 

[vampiredust]

Poem

Grandfather's paper limbs
were carried through the streets
of that ancient city, Genoa,
passing women weeping

behind muslin veils, ignoring
coffee bubbling on the hob
and cats clawing away
at the dog legged couch,

watched by pomegranates
hanging on the side of a garden
were he prayed once
exploding, one by one,

seeds carried by the wind,
dropping his words into the sea
where his body was let go,
sinking into his rotting soil.

 

[champagne1982]

The Question Of The Day

Have you ever sat and let the tears come down?
They have a purpose beyond leaving tracks
on your face and a salty taste on lips
that quiver in suppression of grief.
Don't hold that lament inside. Tears
will come anyway, no matter how you
insist that gravity betray the universe
to be an outlaw as he holds your sorrow
suspended in a beloved vacuum so emotion
breaks the rules of time and tears don't fall.​

 

[vampiredust]

Walking Through Rain

The clouds demolished
themselves when I stepped
out of the tube station.
Glasses were taken off,

dumped hastily into my pocket
with my house keys,
coating them with moisture.
This wet would seep

into the maze of my lock,
gradually rusting its structure,
blurring everything seen
on the journeys I have taken.

28.02.07

 

[HotKittySpank]

this is really quite nice.

Walking Through Rain

The clouds demolished
themselves when I stepped
out of the tube station.
Glasses were taken off,

dumped hastily into my pocket
with my house keys,
coating them with moisture.
This wet would seep

into the maze of my lock,
gradually rusting its structure,
blurring everything seen
on the journeys I have taken.

28.02.07

 

[vampiredust]

why thank you

 

[champagne1982]

sweet boy. You travel through my dreams
and leave the windings of cerebral cortex
unstrung and stretched tight along pathways
of thought I should not explore.

Selfish visitations of your voice inside
my heart keep me greedily listening for more
whispers of delight and promises of adventure
in a journey my soul makes.

Sweet boy. It's your footstep in my salience
that keeps insanity at bay when its dark shadow
slithers down the hallways of my medulla to find
the lizard brain awake and hungry.

Sexual invitations waft through the air. Scents
of musky welcome tickle my nose and I know
the pheremonal evidence stirs more than lustful
ideas, the more is there at your pelvis.

Sweet boy come out of my dreams
and give your need to me.

 

[vampiredust]

Poem

The hooker used her tights
to fish in the Guadalquivir,
undressing behind a pine
tree so the moon wouldn't

be able to catch a glimpse
of the marbling on her legs
and hips - several months
pay from Federico, a former

manager at the BSCH
in Cordoba. Lining the netting
with bread from a gazpacho,
she lowered it into the water

and felt the current snapping
at her offering. No sturgeons
took the bait, so she took off
her bra, lowering her engorged

breasts to the water's edge
and squeezed out a couple
of drops of milk. No-one
is sure what happened next,

since she said nothing
when they found her in the
morning, clutching a couple
of miniature moons in her tights.

 

[vampiredust]

Breeze

Scarves and jumpers
tug at the breeze
flooding the carriage,

carrying their poetry
to potential lovers
on a platform an hour

away. Tonight, they
will curl underneath
a fire, carrying some

of its coldness
in their wool, fueling
the warmth circulating
inside of them.

 

[Tzara]

A (Selfish) Dream

I am now in Asia, comforted
by three lissome girls. I know

that sounds exotic
and perhaps false, and yes,

it probably is so. But it is
a pleasant dream, and dream

it is. I will not part with it.
Reality, insistent, is told no.

 

[vampiredust]

Journeys

Sometimes I want to stop
the car and disappear
away from the sea, the sky,
all living creatures, forests,

estuaries, venturing
into the nowhere, dipping
my toes into the nothingness
of starlight. No traces

will be left, no post-it notes
on the fridge. Phones
will be off, modems disconnected.
Just me and that voice within.

 

[RhymeFairy]

Journeys

Sometimes I want to stop
the car and disappear
away from the sea, the sky,
all living creatures, forests,

estuaries, venturing
into the nowhere, dipping
my toes into the nothingness
of starlight. No traces

will be left, no post-it notes
on the fridge. Phones
will be off, modems disconnected.
Just me and that voice within.

that voice, told me
I was a faliure. no matter
how hard, how much.
always, never enough.



hang in there, it has to get better ~

 

[Liar]

Taking a leaf off your mouth,
I would hush my finger gently
against your lips, hum
a song of pristine cadence
and made up words for you

to populate with poetry
of your inner eye. It doesn't matter
what you say or what faces glow
on the back of your lids. I know
that on a silent Saturday like now,
a quiet murmur can be just enough
to fill up the world, and that I have
a part in this script,

leaning a weary head
against your arm and letting you
borrow my voice, not for speech
but for presence to dress
with every notion under the sun.

 

[vampiredust]

Views of Suburbia

Kettles hum homilies
under a gas lit sky,
watching children

chase dogs' powdered
noses as babies
hang from washing lines,

waiting for mothers
to come down from trees,
fathers pushing sticks

into their breasts, thinking
they're already dead.