come thru

by
should I make myself a coffee
or a lemonade

should I do what I want now
or wait for later

should I get to your harbor
or to stay in my roadstead

should I see each thing in black-white
or in colors

should I assist myself
with a white wine or a white tea

should I dress in a well-ironed shirt
or in a wrinkled coat

should I bet on the winner
or to bet on the dreamer

should I be your naughty
or your sweetie

should I wear you in my soul
or to hold you in my mind
‧‧‧
well, which choices come online,
always come thru you… my love


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my steps sound in the rhythm of your thoughts ‧‧‧ thoughts that are calling me out in your dreams ‧‧‧ dreams kissed smoothly on their velvety skin ‧‧‧ skin perfumed luxuriously with exotic scent, gently and alluring ‧‧‧ alluring and charming connected at the voice of a nightingale ‧‧‧ a nightingale on the fold of stars and moon's wrist, singing ‧‧‧ singing in its abandon, the pure essence of our carnality
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it may have been in pieces... but I gave you the best of me Awake. Shake dreams from your hair, my pretty child, my sweet one. Choose the day and choose the sign of your day the day's divinity. First thing you see. A vast radiant beach and cooled jeweled moon, couples naked race down by its quiet side and we laugh like soft, mad children smug in the wooly cotton brains of infancy. The music and voices are all around us. Choose they croon, the Ancient Ones, - the time has come again, choose now they croon  beneath the moon beside an ancient lake. Enter again the sweet forest,  Enter the hot dream, Come with us! Everything is broken up and dances. Indians scattered on dawn's highway bleeding, Ghosts crowd the young child’s fragile eggshell mind. We have assembled inside this ancient and insane theater to propagate our lust for life - and flee the swarming wisdom of the streets. The barns have stormed, the windows kept - and only one of all the rest to dance and save us from the ...
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woman

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height – (fulfilled grace), weight – (clinically perfect), muscle mass – (explicit), haircut – (neglectfully), eyes – (chameleon-like), lips – (well-contoured), — talks little – does much, — (a corsair in poet's suit) ‧ wildly armed with optimism, (a stellar listener), wrapped in a gallant attitude, (similarly introverted), shows a smile as tactic outfit  with mind-to-joy attached, (is there, when is sung out) ‧ breathes life's treasures while actions grow in beauty like a bird or animal's spirit, or of a pretty much plant, offering what's been asked, overflowing with charm, besides the ambiance ‧ isn't upward, isn't downward; isn't on leftward, isn't on rightward, but ⋯ full of surprises in the woman chosen explodes in absolute (just like ⋯)
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all the best

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don't you see I'm burning with desire to see you? °°°°°°°°°°°°° to identify you in any of my fantasy all the best artists used their emotions ∙ the seductive nuances of the words built you to be my fire, fine structured ∙ musical compositions melt me in you, facing real life with accuracy, exposed ∙ on your face, sketched by memories, the verses of stars are in your eyes ∙ the lips of my inexhaustible blue poems are devouring yours; [you don't oppose]
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you next to me

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watermelon sugar

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in the breath of a buoyant thought, your traces which caressed me softly, are bulldozing now, bestial mirages 𓇼 you walled me in watermelon sugar to look like an altar, where you love to kneel, sniffing thru my laced hints 𓇼 even your oceans gasp inside me, using thrilling brutality of a butterfly, woven with the litany of your teeth
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