blossom roses

by
let it be like a sweet suggestion 
for each day to be combined 
with the seductive and the mystery 
created by a fascinating image 
inspired by the holographic icon 
of a trance-foamed melody 
in poetic notes for which 
one loves to surround you 
in the echo of the blossom roses

poetic audience

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heaven sends you

by
…right as heaven sends you, at your turns, you love to send the rain of kisses on my lips, on my cheeks, on my eyelids ‧ (well, i got to tell you), — the rain, madly fixed by big and warm drops, wrapped me tightly in its scintillating movements ‧ deviating my thoughts' colors, it captured my soul with its beads and my mouth with muffled sighs, to feel I am… your sweet lady
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full delight

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guide your mouth to my left ear, — kiss the murmurs that it hears at classy hours of the inked dreams ‧ mildly, put your lips on my thrill, you, full delight in a psychotic ripple savoring a demiurgic bohemian call ‧ take a frenetic moment of magic that's slowly drowning in my ecstasy, lushly poetized in a renewed burst
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salut

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My mind comports itself like a courtesan. If I’m looking for something, — (there is). Any answer is shown and advanced to me in detail by magic’s charm of the universe in my present time, so well monopolized somewhere in the past, where my actions have already transpired, and where I paid many tributes, in coins of love, converted at an exchange office of a galaxy, with, — my chic, — Salut… [in a hypnotic manner] ⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯ Mon esprit se conduit tel qu’une courtisane. Si je cherche quelque chose, — (y a-t-il…). Toute rΓ©ponse, est montrΓ©e et offerte Γ  moi, en dΓ©tail, par le charme magique de l’univers, dans mon temps prΓ©sent, si bien monopolisΓ© quelque part dans le passΓ©, oΓΉ mes actions ont dΓ©jΓ  transpirΓ©, et oΓΉ, j’ai payΓ© de nombreux hommages, en monnaies d’amour, convertis dans l’une office d’Γ©change d’une galaxie, avec mon chic,– Salut… [d’une faΓ§on hypnotique]
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control

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Orchestrated by airy clouds, the dawn is chirping with soothing caresses on my yearning's fantasy. My eyes are wide open, and yet I didn't wake still. What spell you used, what you put on me, or why, or when you did it, has no point to ask‥ Not at all. Under a velvety mask, everybody wants to be you, but you're not everybody's. You have my mystery. You've got the skill. Besides that, you're in control. Santa on the cell phone, bodied in my thrill, is you. You're all I need... since all I need isn't just love...
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easy

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do not pray for any entity to use his power, you to be protected by your enemies, or to make them stay away from you, for if you do this, you'll observe how easy he will make disappear even some of your everyday friends, (never), but just cheap imitations of the way that you move; so better invite 'em at your chic kabaret, to wish 'em a merry Christmas, right from early in summer, applying your best smile
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i call you

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ugh, you, – my incubus lover, i'm surrounded by ugly souls ⋆ through their veins flows pus, unfurling up a mephitic smell ⋆ their gazes suppurate dislike while their smiles are putrid ⋆ thank god, my flower garden reveals perfume and colors ⋆ and birds disperse their music, and your imps chase 'em away … ugh, you, the word of my word, sing to me... sing to my desires ⋆ embrace, embrace my dreams, dreams, credible and incredible ⋆ travel, travel in all my missives chronicled to you by my future ⋆ there, joviality bears my name, i'm the one who fulfills wishes ⋆ there, the light of each shadow stimulates the shadow of light …  ugh, you, – my incubus lover, word of my word, – i call you
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yum

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in the spatial pub of a dream, your time reserved the table, — music; the crystalline gestures of us are orchestrating the main menu; we taste a smile, but dessert winks at us, pushing the moment into a yum ambiance; we're admired by a hug and a kiss which do pirouettes on poetry's floor (...in the spatial pub of a dream)
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