i lay here in my lover’s bed, and i am conscious of her naked skin against mine. it reminds me of this new happiness. it is now that i realise.
i have written of love, and written again about love. i will write more and more about love and while flowers may blossom from the screen, sun shine from the page, and melodies whisper sweet everythings when your eyes close, smile widens and breath sighs, i have still failed. i fail for the reason that all romantic poets fail.
language fails love.
words fail love.
writing any line of any poem for a thousand forevers and a life time of trying, will fall short of describing love. it is this emotion that drives me, yet i cannot write of love, for it is unreachable except to feel it.
i lay here in my lover’s bed and i tell her. she cries, we kiss, and we know. this is the dilemma of the romantic poet.
a peach is how life should be
best eaten ripe
devoured with gusto
shared with a lover
satisfying in every way
i want another one please
i overheard a dude talking about brownie points. and then i overheard another dude talking about brownie points. and then yet another dude was telling me that he had to ask for special permission because he ran out of brownie points. and then i got to thinking how i used to talk about brownie points all the time and it was depressing. what kind of meek existence do we share if we dish out happiness in small neat serving sized chucks according to an i’ll scratch your back if you suck mine type of points system? people, it’s time to redefine. it’s not worth it otherwise.
hello.
i have a new accent / it sounds partly french (in my mind).
breathe cobblestoned coffee / i smoke cigarettes at the same place.
it is spring all year / i am writing poetry.
slow clarity.
we are making love / every night (every second morning).
i’ve lost count of the lines / there are never enough mangoes or pears.
these are trivial matters / these are my only matters.
full circle.
i can explain it all / i don’t care to explain (anymore thankyou).
things are whole / love is tears overwhelming.
i didn’t wait this time / here i am.
seeing your smile at a second past six is all i need
my self legacy has begun
sharing your everything else is wanted
my joy is true
your plans for us are a dream of my past but a pinch for today
my eyes are open
you are addictive
my cure is yes
your love is contagious
who swept who?
humid eyes press tears between yesterday and tomorrow’s promise of forever. a sigh’s breeze blankets us on the summer night’s bed, while finally’s wash over hearts. here we are. here we live. here we hold, and share.
the street dancer passed a pretty girl and called out “what a beautiful one!”
to which she replied with a blushed flushing crimson and widening smile.
they learnt to samba and fell in love
in ninety-nine days.
can i have an
other, taste of that
Mandy-rin
, sin, accentuated
naked skin
, liquid lipp’ed apple
sipp’ed, grin?
i stepped out into cold
night air whipped and chilled bones and reminded me that i have a soul
i took off my shoes and the soft sand became hard
against my sole’s skin
this auditorium was curtained by cloud, and night,
and my eyes were wet and rain sighed against my face
the wash’s white fingers teased my toes
and i said fuck you
there were no stars except those on the city’s horizon
and we shared reflection on the water’s retreat
and i said fuck you
pushing the cold out through my skin and i am
warm now walking
in calm’s shadow, but with a new peace
walking alone, but everything but
alone
you know when you can’t breathe but it’s all you desire?
i like my version of love truth to be a bloom like flowers and fire
works and fantastic what(for)evers.
that’s the kind of pure
and honest free(me)ingness that sets the dark apart
from not holding back any more.
forget the turkey trappings and thoughtless wrappings,
let’s
redefine christmas babe,
let’s
make fresh love and native mistle-
splashing-toes, on bush-park-beaches, running
streams of syrup over pancakes, where the only ice is
cream for breakfast, before we open the day to share
ourselves,
these true gifts, a oneness walking hand in hand
along our splendrous tide of blue, and yule to show that i
love you
he, one
with years of ache,
writes
i miss you
she, one
with hope renewed,
replies
i love you
they,
connect
while the night granted us
her silent bliss, the stars shone
to glisten eyes and for a moment
my heart swam in clarity
i had a dream where your eyes were all i could see except blur of below and the swirl of around and the flash of goes by and we were rollercoastering and feeling the ups and thrilling the downs and kissing and kissing and all the time and it was fantasmical and exhileratement. then the dream changed and we were in flight where the ups and the downs were the soar of our wings floating like tides in the sky and we were the king and the queen of all that there is from here to horizon and back. again the dream changed and we settled to sleep on the grass on the hill where our wings wrapped around and held onto tight and the here to horizon and back were a blur and a swirl and a flash because all i could see were your eyes were your eyes i’m in love with you and your eyes. now all i can see is your eyes.
