Savory Things

dewdrops on eyelashes
dewdrops on eyelids and spellbinding black kittens
ascension on alabaster clouds and shameless admittance
auburn leaves in windstorms violently rustling
these are a few of my savory things
.
chalk colored spirits and cream in my coffee
string quartet sunsets and possessions with apostrophes
ravens that fly with full moon on their wings
these are a few of my savory things
.
Men in white collars with red paisley neckties
his finger tracing softly up black stocking’d thighs
blessings abundant, for we have our rings
These are a few of my savory things.
.
When you take things for granted
When you get in a cycle of drudgery
When you lack common joys
Take notice of your list of savory things
and life will be more enjoyed
Published in: on September 22, 2009 at 9:15 pm  Comments (7)  
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Skyfuck- A haiku about something we humans will never experience in this lifetime, and it’s a shame.

(by the way. I really detest haiku. Nevertheless, I am too lazy to write a real poem today)

mates

dragonflies mating in tandem

riding the wind, in rhythm with the currents’

air like coaster hills

Published in: on September 22, 2009 at 4:41 pm  Comments (3)  
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No Rules

galaxia

I don’t follow the rules, here.

I make it how I want it, see it, feel it…

This is a cosmic little galaxy commandeered by yours truly. I am the creator, and every speck that exists has come from within my own vision. There is very little in life we have control over. This small kingdom is all to my own. If you’re reading this, consider yourself a deep space tourist. I encourage you to leave a comment about your stay.

If you come across a word that you don’t recognize, look it up. I do not intend to misspell, but sometimes I bend meanings or fabricate words to suit my own personal fancies. Why? Because I can, and it fits what I am thinking. If you want a definition of my made-up words, just ask… Have fun in here.

Published in: on September 20, 2009 at 12:31 am  Comments (3)  

The Dead Dyad

My friend, he came

to drag a boy

to my doorstep

sure that we should

know one another

And so we did,

from the tips of our very souls

to every ripple of our brains

to the soft curves of our hearts

It was history

in our own books

like a hieroglyph

of important events

“The world is atrocious”

we would say

Together, we piled

our soft clay emotions, views

melded into a lumpy heap,

working, forlorn, as one unit

towards the formation into something

functional and beautiful

The pain, the truth

which could have nearly paralyzed us,

exercised through poetry and song

let us bleed in monochromatic synchronicity,

a freedom from the bulging strain

in our adolescent brains

from realizing the repulsive side of humankind

We discovered a golden force

glowing within, an ability

to forget our woes

and accept every fleeting moment

as a euphoric one

Many magical moments followed,

steeped in ultra-cognifizance,

a sparkling wonder of intense awareness

I have had to let go

of him

and the puzzle

as to how he could just

walk away and be

the antithesis of

it all-

all we felt

learned,

lived,

loved,

discovered

as if all along,

he was just an imaginary friend

Published in: on September 19, 2009 at 3:10 pm  Comments (4)  
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Good morning, Dark Stalker

I know a couple
lived so long
long enough to know
 
.
as all the parts
start to fail
that soon it’s time to go
 
.
I can’t imagine their living
with a reaper
stalking their every step
 
.
waiting for their pump
to quit
or the draw of their last breath
 
.
How it leans in intuitively as they hack
hoping to drag them into the black
 
.
The reaper sits in a corner chair while they sleep
when the snores grow silent, nearer it creeps
 
 
.
It peeks as they shower,(do not slip)
soon to be his if they break even a hip
 
.
Oh, the young,
they don’t know
how long they will be
 
.
Hell, a reaper
could certainly
be stalking me
 
.
Those octogenarians,
poor dears,
he follows them everyday
.
It must be haunting,
CHILLING to be
at the ripe end of decay
Published in: on September 17, 2009 at 1:35 am  Comments (4)  
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Here Kitty. Nevermind.

here kitty. nevermind

Published in: on September 14, 2009 at 11:24 pm  Comments (5)  
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Ensnared

Tip-toe to the loo
careful not to disturb…
Trickle scalding bubble brew
a flicker votive
foxy motive
 
Roll the Cocteau swirling lullaby
cue the dim revelry
dip and dunk, slip-in, sunk
cherry toes
and flesh mangoes
 
Like moths to flame
or squirrels to snacks
He comes creeping, eyes peeled
to Venus’ trap
for the snatch
 
The rhythmic tide of captive boy
caught in some sweet sticky mess
in strumming stride with lady ploy
waves unfurling
frothy churning
 
Pucker (in so many contexts)
let it slurp away
from the bottoms to the twined necks
no need to seize
what can be lured with ease

Published in: on September 11, 2009 at 1:20 am  Comments (1)  
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