piano keys washed in honey [ woman bathing in time ]
sexualist extreme ,
broken straw bed
assembled ingredients of a virgins reflection
desire/slutton/erogenous/ unforgiving
bitter fingers play [woman dried on flowers flesh]
hungering absolute yet no permanence
jazz expelled drum beat symphony
tatoo/dollars /benign/fragile
[woman forgotten in memories light]
supple sinewy ghosts on sunset go
a raw experiment for @dVersePoets 55 prompt
This ravenous vulture grim scowl
that devours me the fiery bowels
and my only constant companion
till my pain with his hooked beak.
The day we touch the last sip
I rush my black blood, I want
it leave me with him alone and landmark
a moment, no one as hindrance.
Well I want to win, doing my agony
as he my last stripping swallows
surprise in his eyes somber
look to see the fate that threatens
without this dam as satisfying
the terrible hunger that never goes out .
and in Spanish
Este buitre voraz de ceño torvo
que me devora las entrañas fiero
y es mi único constante compañero
labra mis penas con su pico corvo.
El día en que le toque el postrer sorbo
apurar de mi negra sangre, quiero
que me dejéis con él solo y señero
un momento, sin nadie como estorbo.
Pues quiero, triunfo haciendo mi agonía
mientras él mi último despojo traga,
sorprender en sus ojos la sombría
mirada al ver la suerte que le amaga
sin esta presa en que satisfacía
el hambre atroz que nunca se le apaga.
behind her shoji screen
where protected, felt assured to be naked
no unbidden glances
would spill from a mans eye
gathered in her own mind
and clothed touched the soft panels
each to represent a year of life,
the ones lived and ones to come
patches of existence on a written timeframe,
smiling she moved to the window
hillside and meadow
no sharp intrusions to the eye
looking back she wondered of the last panel
what ghosts lurked behind
for it was hidden
until the time was right,
a swarm of bees sounded outside
nectar and honey
as she expected love to be
but mother said not,
spoke of not having to worship a man,
his edges not so rounded
where often cruel as father was
to others but not her
not a favorite they just understood,
it did not matter of the last panel
for she knew how long she had
as sliding the door behind
walked out onto a busy street
salt water in winter,
two fingers deep
secret to staying afloat,
vulva tides awash with secrecy
worn beneath cotton bedsheets
and that short black coat,
temptation and lust
a wanting beyond the
open expanse of ocean,
swell and topography,
knowing placement and feeling,
blind cartographer
left fingerprints and tongue
impressions,
beneath a wayward sun,
tremors that crawl
emotion burned nerves,
and within no hollow thrum,
with tug she guided
fold and rise
waves break over rocks
map has it’s relief
with tidal surge,
shudder and compression,
the moment when the sea becomes
translucent,
and memory of this voyage
imprinted overwriting
others lesser and shorted
Micheline an amazing artist go and visit her website and find her on twitter @artymicheline
elastic bound thoughts
contracted as would a boiled egg
overdone,
helios hepped on jazz
found the stroke of sidewalk
blocks of bars and strip joints,
mind breathing everything
eyes registering the glass windows
of long to come
tomorrows,
when her kiss come
buick grille jaws of hell,
elastic could not tighten
anymore flared with worms
and a solitary fly,
noise flushed red of wanton art,
could i be a titan
writhing on that couch
with string hearted blonde
ivory lonely care
without tending priests,
poor dumb altar
with genius of my soul
her and my footsteps
made us kings and queens
of the carnival
and slumberers of the
dreary city doorways
words pressed to my forehead
ready to explode,
winters long wait for suns awakening,
there is no lamb in a killers eyes,
transmit feeling with each moment
breathing
knowledge escaping,
the future is out of it’s cage
unsure unsteady,
dandelion clocks dispel
it is worlds end
lighthouse of the precipice ,
word pressure tighter,
saliva wet in the mouth
like kisses from a hungry dog,
broken waves are heard
noise visible on open window,
human that feeling and being
cannot be sold,
those words are hurting
urging through skin
cracking skull bone,
my brain resists
textured ripe as an open fruit
solid as that sweet nut of pleasure,
i will continue
and watch you go adrift
on the longest wave
beyond beacon light,
nine thoughts exposed
from heaven
intermittent pulses
a cruel birth as i watch in silence,
forgetting that the past had been
imprinted with us,
this place with meadow near
would fall into ruin
without us
unfathomable satin pillow of sky
over city my coeval,
traffic noise curtains billowed
as i lay in the comfort
with only my own breath
sounding out,
bedclothes scattered wadded
into masses on that blue carpet,
timing had been the measure,
this was my place
no motel with bleak neon,
i could consume my life
in whatever way i wanted
without intervention or lust on time,
a fly would hover
before i found yesterdays news
to roll and crush that fragile
gossamer winged creature,
she had not quite gone
her touch left indentations beyond
fingerprints visible on my skin
pressure points that excited
to that blazing exclusion of my mind
nebulous shimmer near
opaque evaporation,
my vision light and molecules
on the retina,
i was more absorbed by my feelings
that the sound that cut into my life
of tires losing grip
metal impacting on interstate collision
noise and destruction
someones life consigned to a slab,
i did not move
tingling fingers and toes
aware of sirens
the knocking of eager fists
pounded
then a torch shone
locating life in my eyes,
the road had claimed her
of that i was sure,
now my bed
within this city
my coeval,
we had lengthened shadows
together
now i lay still
buttoned down eyes
struggle to open,
sunbeams poured into the bowl
milk a cold half empty vessel,
we have drained each other,
scuffed table thread scratches
did we need electric lights
or the cigarettes not lit,
crackle of another star dying,
limbs bare
outside sirens call,
no matter what others think
there where wolves in the wood
warning voices raise to the moon,
yet as frail apes
we still smoked,
coffee forgotten got drunk
mornings so hard to translate,
she wished to the height of man
and i looked down,
clutter of the everyday pushed
aside as we made love again,
and know that nature will save
us
.86 acre of land
a vine crawled house,
boathouse at the extreme
in this place
tongued by wavelets,
scented moss,
naked
upon moth devoured
blankets,
i saw her hair
was yellower by torchlight
velvetmedia 