battle scars and broken hearts

by
you and I are writing different stuff
at unpredictable intervals of time;

the experiment looks like
a temperamentalish naked poetry;

on the other hand, in very deed, hunts
a humor's sense that dissects our mood;

it's life's pulse we trapped
in its battle scars and broken hearts;

it's our dark sky of winter's leisurely,
crystallized by drones' foam;

it's a wish degree pulverizing oneness,
to affect today our atoms' thrill;

it's a hug and kiss, sent and caught,
(nervelessly), (for love shrills us both);


Explore Popular Posts From This Blog

The Ghost Song

by
Image
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 ...
Read more

nightingale

by
Image
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
Read more

nightmares are fond memories

by
Image
the longing's light is on, — about an hour will let me chill out; the mental pictures urge, — i'm faced with all you'll do to me; frissons and butterflies rouse, — my eyes utter what my mouth can't; in love with the present, — the moment lives me, i live it, too; your joy was to please me, — nightmares are fond memories; orgasm tacit in unison, — you smile, i smile, — sleep tight; ⟮my un p'tit je ne sais quoi is lured to the poetic Stockholmsvy⟯ trick
Read more

are you looking for someone to love

by
Any of my written pages cover you with my blanket of stars set in music's transparent vocabulary, noble adapted to show me the way of loving you for both of us and to get lost in the poetic experience of freedom and the pleasure dialect fermented in the mystery of what we want to hear, so delish translated by our lips that love to insult any part of our bodies with fiercely and gently kisses, till we get lost in sweet translation raised and sunken in vulnerable feels of our dreamt clichΓ©s. But if you don't know why are you looking for someone to love, then any page of mine is blank, exactly like your endless cloud, cambered by your doubts and indifference, so able to defame any soul, by provoking it to scour and pick up the pieces.
Read more

telepathy

by
morning rouse, — bizarre dream of last night, — forgot Les Fleurs at the coffee, — interesting Les Litanies, — followed with Lord's Prayer darkness, — identical as is a lit side; the beauty of ugly, the ugly of beauty, — Baudelaire explained; night and day, — unseparated; increasing, decreasing, — equally; the love, — is there or is not at all... defines a weakness, — artistic creation; a pray, — telepathy works... come closer
Read more

and you, my love

by
Image
Today everything seems to be nicer. Even I seem to look much more beautiful. I woke up with the mad urge for bonbon, chocolate with almonds, and berries syrup. I've perfumed my hair with peonies. I dropped the sweetness of rose on my lips, and I took the happiness in my soul. Today, life just invited me to dance, and I accepted, murmuring, [and you, my love]
Read more

you next to me

by
Image
slowly, my thoughts' wings, flap before landing on your senses, — [that's why you feel some thrill] how I move, it's an impulse kind that cause you to think of me, — [AWOL, some say you're scatty] music you listen to isn't faux pas, isn't irrational directed to you, — [its aim is to get you next to me] y'know that thrill that makes you look like a scatty one… [well-well], you just got how much I love you
Read more

yAyAyA

by
Image
Can you talk without having any knowledge about the one who supposed to listen to you passionately and conclusively? Doesn't it feel as if your voice puts your brain in a quandary? All you want is to read the magic of the stars. And yet, to do it, isn't essential to gaze into the eyes of the one who's loved? I found wondering myself, even as tempted, I imagined the lips of this enigmatic one, who's gazing at what wants to hear, while without getting pressured, it experiences all the songs' words. It's a vibe as if it reads me, wanting to identify on which side of the syllables am I sleep, and which word must be breathed... That one is dulcifying by itself with poetic thrills, ruled at a pub, somewhere on a roof known as the blue cafΓ©, in a «yAyAyA» realm comparable to milky-way, as if I know what it's like to be not to be.
Read more

volume one

by
to balance the imbalance of some days, verify your soul volume,— one portrayed and discreetly arranged by your heartbeat with the temperature of your blood and mad pressure of some detouring stories systematized by the texture of your mind to rise the sound speeds of my whispers inapt of uttering, I love you I miss you... to balance the imbalance of some days, ain't nothin' wrong to check once more the timbre and vibration of my feelings
Read more