Deafverse

Pleasantries evidently tempting to tease, you're this chocolate kind of testing when you're next to me.

Just another raver kid,
playing what he tries to feel,
spinning on those tracks like they were the brothers he drinks life with,
take a toast to this,
another night of excellence,
but we may wonder where the heart exists,
to keep up with this existence..
where some efforts may seem so fruitless..
but!
do remember everything when you take that sip..
to say damn..
where else can be so delicious?
its really too bad you only get one memory to share all those moments with..
wish I had a cd to give you my soul in..
seems to me it would be a perfect little melody
of maybe something smooth
that was begging for the spicy..
like that last cup of tea before you set your moves,
if anything it would be happy just to be your morning groove.

we were ill advised to go chasing
orgasms like Daphne, to trap them
in some corner; to watch them
turn to trees in our fingertips.

if we could learn to sit, still as buddha,
and patiently wait for them to rain
down on us in showers
(of gold),
we would all be the mothers
of heroes,
and we'd never again have to pay for parking
or car insurance
or spend the night fingering each other
because the drug store closes early
on sundays.

(i write with greater frequency at www.corneredinhibitions.blogspot.com, if you please)

You were all belig the last time I saw you
A receding hairline and a beer-chipped tooth
I knew you were the one for me
And my recurring lack of dignity

We spent that night under dirty covers
An illicit affair between fictional lovers
A masochistic mentality
Enlaced with necessary frivolity
I caved in to your lips

Now I wonder where you’ve gone
when you were just a fleeting ghost
and I was just a willing pawn
wanting for this disaster to happen the most

Can I have one more swig
One more cig-a-rette
My lips can’t take this

I'd give anything (no, everything) if only you would smile
I know those aches, those stifled fears, the hopes trapped in exile
For you I'd forgive any sin, the dankest, the most vile -
Oh intimate friend.

I see you standing, half-alone, tugging at the sun
Wishing it would disappear and prove the day was done
For you I'd fight a million wars, to death or 'til we won
Oh intimate friend.

I find snatches of memories; I find shreds of your heart
I find the scattered refuse of the future, hacked apart
For you I'd practice magic and the blackest mystic art
Oh intimate friend.

I pray for you (no, beg for you) to have a chance at life
To mend the wreckage of the past and climb above the strife
For you I'd sing a thousand songs and dance to danger's fife
Oh intimate friend.

the deep thoughts quiver my mind into a blowing spiral of words randomly
picked in no specific order of careless intentions, but seems to make
perfectly good sens to a intellectual mind of some sort. as long as you
obtain a open mind of vivid imagination my writings will invade some
sensory portion of your brain and tickle it until you tap out in
submission.

I line our bodies up (your
hands, my fingers, your knees, my
back) and rearrange
them. I'm trying to make some sense
of this careless tangle.
I bring out the best in you (maybe, let's see -
your arms, my neck, your toes, my toes, my
toes)
but it seems you can't bring much
of me (anywhere - your tongue,
my wrists, my arms, my shoulders, my
shoulders!?),

If these parts were detachable,
I could line them up in flawless
sense, our syntax
would grind, would blossom, would wail -
(my palms, your palms, your hips, like this, like
this...)
but this is english, love,
and your subject cannot be implied - we lack
the signifier, we lack the
significance.

(my back, your back, your back, the door.)

In some other era we may meet
to sing sweet latin.
all the words will be implied,
effortless understanding - yes
the language yields to lovers -
will materialize, and you
won't have to say
anything.

deep darkness rolls around infected the body insane decaying the vain, destroying the body and the brain, consumed by anger and fear.inquiry searches and endless bounds and bundles, deceitful of appearance to the pretty words to be guile into its treachery.


Almost 4 years its been and this just hit me and I couldn't stop expressing my self until i was done and read the outcome and was impressed with my self.

This Is Not a Love Poem

This is not a love poem.

I'm not the kind of girl
who goes after what's easy,
and not the kind of poet who does happy endings --

And God knows it wouldn't be hard
to write a love poem about him,
because he's the kind of guy who holds open doors
and pre-warms my seat warmer...

( The rest at my journal )