*Please feel free to throttle me/ unfollow me. This is worse than Trollope tripe -it would be more pleasurable watching a live abortion. Maybe that is inappropriate. I don’t think there is anything pleasant about what I have just let myself type. Apologies*
I think I feel a little sick.
Success is opening up her arms and people waving flags with my initials on it.
Sounds narcissistic but I guess I am afraid of the things I want most.
Success, Praise love, and Happiness.
Seamless drama is never far from a molecule in a foreign body on an abstract shoreline.
Possibly an inch closer to the imperial mix.
Take me up to shallow waters to bubble blowers and fellow talkers.
Don’t say it was me who created this venture.
I should have known ‘off the bat’ how it all works,
I’m feeling the inferiority rapture.
No, I don’t think I’m grand.
I don’t have time to glance in my Id crescent- shaped reflector.
I’m too busy overtaking the speed of light
working on the next bender, I mean.. adventure.
Praise me. I say thank you. I might even put a smile on for the finale.
Inside I’m thinking:
If you knew me I would be the one laughing when I hear some dude pronounce the G – in the word gnarly.
This is how I push people away. I make them think I have the flair to take every offer going spare.
Guaranteed, I will hike up the rent on the boardwalk by the glitchy sea.
I don’t know who to talk to.
These four walls and a cerebrum of characters have overspilled,
bulging out of their zippers.
appealing for me to gaze down to the center of all taboo.
Replace this mind below the gentry hippers.
Inside I need a pressure valve replacement.
Are they right?
the ones who make me feel I’m wrong like I’m a pyscho.
I tipple over the mountain edge in fright.
Who to believe?
The ones who make me feel I’m ugly inside?
an object on the outside – something to be used – an animated tool.
do I believe the ones who make me feel like the sun shines?
every time I reach out
pouring my words over anyone who feels the need for a breeze of air:
Legit fresh cool
Inside I’m tumbling.
A Scotsman in true fashion – rolling down hills with wee scant from a below eye level.
The mailer in this ale is taking its time to zoom around this corpus Christi.
The one in whose image we are declared.
Hear them all rebel when I tell them to leave my goat- she has her own bell.
I don’t believe in religious carnality.
I believe I’m here.
Think I can only post something reeking in banality.
All the time.
I look for a reason for why people are wrong to love me.
I get bored and frustrated.
I look back when Evolution dictates to reason that I must move forward to reach the charlotte caramelized sea.
Don’t look back in anger.
Avalanches of prejudice awaits me.
Raging in a carnival of colored palettes.
Two-tone is a note to hear something based on sweet civility.
Chivalry crept up on me and I made a splash.
Juxtaposed in the style of the clash.
More whale than mermaid -not quite the sight I was hoping you would remember me.
bobbing on a skyline.
Can I stand up or will I end up putting myself out?
Surprised at how I manage to keep the white cloaks from rapping at my window.
I’m sure I made a terminal agreement to sign myself in if
my face didn’t resume back to timeless position after a session of ‘the heavy pout’.
To make up or not to make up.
To share and be open or hide and whisper Goethem.
Reeled back to a cause – a club with red tape around the chill out room.
Stumped, I could be in a forest, for all you know, I could be higher than that blue kite.
Erect like her witches wooden broom.
My minds a place of genuine fear at times.
I can feel people waiting to hear what will come out every orifice.
Laugh with me or at me.
Make sure you got a clue what you on about – in every topic up for discussion.
don’t look around for a bar room tit,
just so you can feel a head higher than the king of Epileptic fits.
The most viscous harness whip I encounter is my own corpus callosum.
It comes out at me, at you,
at the crowd.
Prey eyes – fear the bird with the talisman.
Some days I think about being ordinary, then I think,
of course, I’m beyond that station of being so free.
I let fools rush in – I make a meal with plenty of meat and two servings of potato
I doubt myself too much.
I talk way too much shit to get any credit for how this piece ends
Did you know I have long toes?
My favorite ice cream is the one with the little Eskimo.
Swollen lips pricked
send a trickle of blood sauntering down her pale leg
Treat her with fragility and she may open up to you -with vagile virility – trust in her own common sense.
Let her tease you into bed, out layered by peels of laughter.
you could find yourself lying up looking at her naked body, legs astride, in your bed.
Don’t try to stop her from controlling the ride. When Sadies on top you best stay on her appealing side.
All reason shuts down – arousal highjacks all senses.
Amygdala orgasms – her hands guide you to let down all defenses.
Light strokes vary speed and pace. Controlled movements-surrender does he when he glimpses bits of skin seen through playful lace.
Cleansed and tainted all in one dance of sensual explosion.
Sweat, red cheeks, clothes abandoned, sheets ruffled into a mood of confusion.
Discard thoughts of pain numbed by oxytocin released from incarceration.
Eye to eye contact -Sadie’s initial taunts inspire events such as this cheeky body adoration.
Whispered petit amours, hairs raised to embrace all sensation.
Blood whips into a frenzy – the body climaxes into a bewildered orgy of elation.
Beating hearts enthrall Sadie to linger. All mighty mother nature – gave us each blessed finger.
Sadie gives when she feels she can un-ribbon her mask of distrust.
Not many have broken her hymen soul – merging adoration and lust.
Needs fulfilled don’t ask her how it was. Look into her eyes, see her smile, her face will not betray her mind.
She doesn’t have to answer with praises of technique.
Trust in yourself that Sadie has tasted the best delicacies she can find.
Tongue provokes once soft nipples – get it right and she will let you know if this entices her.
All time suspended from her world,
you may lose yourself,
entangled in limbs.
She doesn’t need your confession – though she smiles at the gesture.
She knows your lip service is filled with the original grace of binding hymns.
Sexual creatures come out of hiding when treated with respect.
Learn to appreciate art and learn to appreciate a woman.
Learn what is and isn’t a subject.
Study her and she will catch you out when you least suspect it.
She can conjure up a fine table in a laboratory with you as her primary object.
She was endowed with gifts of pleasure and seduction from her first breath.
That look, you wonder – what could she be thinking?
Maybe you unwrapping her with delight saved her from an eternity of slumber floating face down in a river of Styx death.
*Inspired by Gustav Klimt’s ‘ The kiss’*
It’s not every day someone is able to take my breath away with words. Such finesse, so subtle, a seducer of minds. I would be doing a great injustice if I didn’t share -his or hers work. There are some incredible poems on here. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
The Sweet Seduction of Art1Daisy in the willowslays head effortlessly on pillowsand stares into the camera lensthenpretendssendsart out to humanityin love with/and yet mad at meEnd of Januarythe world seems colderShe takes a glance over hershoulderwe’re two souls writing poemsdeft and boldermaybeadmittinglythen we should bebut this is lifeintwo thousand and seventeenShe may laugh at the notionbut she lives in the dreamDaisy in the Willowsyou know that we will goanywhere art decides to take usan abundance of knowledgebut such a lack of trustin Humanityin the tenderness of ManDaisy can save me if she’lljust take my handand walk a mile along the English shoreline at duskan abundance of beautyyet such a lack of trustin My wordsin My Artbecause we’re all totally disconnected fromanother’s heartwe just walk dead day to day doing what we dothat is why I wrote this poemjust to prove to youthat Art and Humanity can in factintertwineand for the rest of the day at leastI will ownyour mindShare this:
Source: The Sweet Seduction of Art