Posts tagged ‘sex’

February 13, 2015

Hot Bagel

Bagel,
too hot
for hands,
with cream cheese melt;
how you entice
me so.

No matter,
it is early in the morning
and I am hungry,
into my stomach
you must
go.

February 5, 2015

Convulsive Flower

Honeysuckles robust,
Of a rich land,

Dripping to velvet tongue;
This Lai sweet song,

All nature;
Moving with the wind, touched by the hand—

Shining there—wet,

Ready,

Taste naturally.

January 25, 2015

Naive

Fickle love’s passing fate,
Seen a wretched cold world;
Sweet birdsong of the wind,
And a blouse lay unfurled.

December 19, 2014

Along the Lines

Foraged affection,
Uniquely approached.
Caught in the action;
Kept taut on a rope.

December 12, 2014

Winter 2014 (On: Summer 1969, by Seamus Heaney)

Thoughts of reading a text by *S. Heaney,
Bits and pieces of dewed Madrid,
With heavy inflections of Hemingway,
Scattered about within. Bull horns
And drink, and women, and sex. Smell
Of skin, fish parts, and molded excrement.
Emitting and emoting the pawing presence
Of death; Protestant and Catholic,
Rebellions over said claims.
There the air held hot, as one without water,
Lacking, in a vast desert, as a drunk’s hung-over
Morning plight, -head-spin, praying for the noise to fast die,
Lavishing in Great Lakes of the mind.
He spoke of letting it go, as in
Sobering up, as in really feeling this event.
He had been fearing the gun holster
And lack of action in present. Admiring the man
Who hand-gripped the cold barrel steel, afraid to notice.
But all those bleeding bulls, and fish debris, and local
Women, and spent shells counted. Dripping their sweetness
On his fingertips, wet, as the spilt thick
Ink of his pen. Language of stink
And movement. Surely he felt a bit
Satisfied as he sipped a beaded glass of beer
In the city center, in the summer, 1969,
In Madrid, as he wrote his free-verse prose. As he
Let his words come alive and go.

*Singing School (Summer 1969), BY SEAMUS HEANEY

November 22, 2014

Comely Civilian

Sipping hot Chai Tea,
When bitter came sweet.
Numbers change degrees,
Perspective saw discreet.

Early time of day,
We met along the way.
Present here now sit,
A life made of odd bits.

Notice slight turn of head
Sparking bulbs in the mind;
Wait, watch, and reflect,
Faint to smell of Dandelion.

Supple as shone flesh,
One acknowledges dewed must,
Affective thoughts to pass,
Words spoke, open mouth trust.

Salacious centerfold,
Touching each endpoint nerve,
Appointing minor tasks-
Let eager subjects be served.

Sit perked straight up,
Lace bound tight round back;
Pictures opened doors,
Imagined forms one retracts.

That fiend- the mind, moves fancy to bust.
That fiend- the thought: human nature of lust.

September 3, 2014

Day One: Campus Type

Cigarette ashes hang like eyelashes

of campus distractions,

from broken hand sinewy seams

this be the death of me-

 

…  and some;

carless,

embarrassed,

 

No Feelings: numb.

 

American Literature and computer generated poetry; as art- good start to the semester, the sun is out in all its glory.

 

Covered in leather and bruises, she moves, tattooed, wounds fester, pimple-faced and searching for pleasure and adventure, no more mommy and daddy leisure.

 

It’s true.

 

Beautiful green lost confused, children adults on the move; me too,

How about you?

 

Choose.

 

Brilliant fulfillment,

United States we live in, lucid livid.

 

Self –surgery

type urgency.

 

Bearing my frown like a leaky raincoat in the center of this rainstorm,

maintaining a productive stance on consuming all there is to absorb.

 

Advice: Mornings are easier when you don’t drink every night,

but for what I’ve just seen I just might.

 

Educate me on this system.

Please, teach me now. 

July 28, 2014

peaceful reside

Darkened room
beyond a standing open door.
Fan blows low,
violins cry; moaning- in the air.

Cat bounds, jumps,
across a dusted floor.

This motionless single-bedroom apartment, still, as mind dances the Tango.

Loved ones, phone.

She moves,
rolling in the lamplight
covered in white-cloud blankets
warm in her spot.

The bed holds like a trusted hand.

Lie processing,
words,
empty,
quiet,
awake alone,

shadows paint the walls and ceiling.

Torso imprints a time, right there.

Peaceful reside,
past moments in my mind.

-Goodnight.

July 23, 2014

At the beach (Cedar South)

At the beach,

this burnt sand desert;
tan,
beyond feet,
hot!
dig underneath.

Swimming lake water to avoid the heat,
people lazing on towels,
hiding beer cans
attempt save discrete.

Plants sharp as knives while walking with bare-feet.

At the beach
At the beach

Sex parts covered by diaphanous cloth,
where we sit with wandering thought lost.

Sunscreen smells,
lax notion,
rubbing lotions,
discussion minced, quiet commotion-

ride, bipedal, or car from the city to the streets to meet,

at the beach
at the beach.

July 9, 2014

Tattoo II

Dark outlines
on pretty flesh;
a meaningful, forever, sentiment- lined sketch.

For life, for death,
a canvass to test,
bold bright colors; judgment: pretense.

Now art, now unique, now taut puffed; hurt when pressed.

Self-inflicted wounds to heal,
paying for this pain,
stories etched on the surface;
memories remain.

Now, what do yours mean? …

Everyone is jumping off of that bridge,
So I packed a parachute and lit a smoke- see?

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