Poetic Allusions · Un P'tit Je Ne Sais Quoi

my blood runs uncontrollable in your innate senses because any tiny or wide-ranging things are filled with dreams that come true when they wear the exuberance of the scent felt in the morning which is a coffee, sequentially served with patience's sips and ideals while castling of senses help to detox any tension in calmness of love and slowly pushes me to explore much further to a newer and real good feeling with you...

this very day, I stopped in a hurry among the verses of the sky domesticated by the poetry you are and I sang in the major key coupled at flowers' jubilee in nectar's tinge, just so, to feel you as if you'd be spunky feathers of a genius Kolibri

on the constellation of my universe, a huge query point gives an answer very precisely to a question asked, — please take care of that, — if it isn't over my head, shouldn't be on yours … on the constellation of your universe, all my stars surround you in beauty, me to be seen in you created again, — so i rose up in the same row twice and got memorized for the third time … on the constellation of both universes personified in an unsteady steady way we're a bit of something finely angled

like the shadow of a girl…on the Moon i have waited so long to feel the meaning of being your deep desire on a Saturday taken Monday maintained on a Tuesday costumed in an azure veil of a Wednesday tailored Thursday but initiated on a Friday in your eyes like a lithe so nonchalantly with irrefutable dimples of your longing…

Allo…? Zeus? Pick up the phone, — it's Me, the goddess of goddesses undomesticated but glorified and loved by you in such a manner that any grammar of any language couldn't be enough to express it for would-be stumbling in words anointed by saint myrrh of illusion in beatified memories collected in hiéroglyphes that are able to get decoded only by… (me and you…), in paradise, both amused to amuse any other earthly native that adores and idolizes with perplexed passion, to listen to the will of some SF love

I can't stop the time and yet, unintended, I remember You for you're not what you hide in aphotic side unseen, but what you've become through your own free will, throwing light to my invisible shape, sensible and mystic in your style invoked, in your air inhaled, in your water, sunk, in your visions, zoomed, you not to be dropped in bad magic spells or to be hijacked by my deep-blue mind, deeper than the ocean darker than the night...

On any cloud of the sky I wrote words to you with the angels' quill dipped in the ink of stars, using the letters of quasar created by my rainbow in the curve of your zenith On any cloud of the sky I got moves of the fantasy for the poesy you are, my muse of the muses, the lure of my demons the metaphor of metaphors the surreal of my realities On any cloud of the sky, it's been written by me whispers of the universe to you, — I Love You... I Love You in a way which doesn't feel human, for I am your passion's dialect

the rim of your fingertips through my Venus has the sensory system thirsted for ecstasy, to emit the Zenith vibrations from your body and to shape me in an unreal fresh eroticism somewhere by the river energy of your mind

like a morningstar, you're infiltrating gradually in my clouds, penetrating profoundly my yummy memories, making me smile while you feed me with your happiness wonderfully twisted in the glaze of pleasure carefully garnished with the shooting stars from where you are...

here we go again… feeling guilty as is any starved animal searching nutrients for whatever might feed the spirit quench the thirst, push loneliness and all fear away... here we go again, to french-toast with goodnight kisses ending as we started, frenglishly together, like mongrels

my tactic is — tactless, unfitting is — to fit some words, unseemly seems to seem discreet of indiscreet improvised and hasty, to love you well, — diversified, as is the moving rise of mine, — instantly numb, — not negligently, always... — sentimental

right now, you breathe again the words of my free time, — you know what I want... — you know like I know nobody's so funny like me in your mind gifted to electrify your fantasies or to surprise your imagination, — somehow, you're addicted to me, I'm an indispensable mad feeling in your memories, in your deeds, I'm deeply in you, not a name, — not a number but hours of stories never negated but only accessed

what to do if or when some aim you with implicit words and feelings, as if you're an eccentric color adopted out of blue as an antithesis of a bad woman… so different from what you're being considered but schooled to figure out one's lies what to do as long as you've been designed to be better than any best or smarter than any smartest or much beautifier than any beautiful or sophisticated, passionate, gentle, courageous or creative or to dare to be happier… than yesterday what to do if each beam of the sun is playful in your hair and the sky's color shines in your eyes, and you're scented with love, while the universe's vibration brings to light your smile, your hopes what to do if you show yourself to all but nobody wants to see you as you are [it cried out, the sky… watching me]

in which of your positions, I'm a disaster or a miracle… which of my hemisphere grows your pulse… 🫦 does it  make you react as if I'm bad for you, baby… so bad that only your lungs are able to remind you… (remind you), you love much to breathe my atmosphere

i'm contemplating, (with my sight on your sight...) at an absent hour when we chose to just relax a while i'm saluting your thoughts lost through a certain sea that's containing my dreams (so interested in you) i reconstruct an analogy about how I act, how you react when we'll meet; whose smile will put us under the rug...

every side of mine, it's your treasure map cryptographed well by my soul and mind there, without any hesitation, your temper decided to keep me hidden like an altar subtle, my caprices, in your wildish blood transfused, swim constantly inconstantly even if, each side of yours with daily tales spies the maps gifted with my luring smile

pleasant emotions flood spontaneously like a dandelion in the spring hungered of lips on soft lips, so good... — so-so, again as much real as the unreal composing a mood, painted, sung, dreamt, and spoken in contagious gods' language and the spirit of goddesses to flourish inside you an afternoon experiment; ‧‧‧ then another, and another, and I, clearly, have chosen to be a flashback, — you addicted

I heard all your whispers of love and passion with the fascinating schemes made by lyrics of songs. In the amalgam of shadows and lights, on sifting, I found myself to apologize for no certain reason, front of people I've never met or heard about them. Too enthusiastic, my faith in love got manifested as if it was touched by the gentleness of a violin set on your corner to make me look like a loony or as if I want your dreams to get wasted instead of protecting them to not be stolen, — or because you should see me in a crown incidentally classed. With this, I hope you understand any act of mine. This coup de foudre between me and you, it's the... absolute transition of my love to your nest, — alien

from now on, exactly as it comes, I'm going to kiss each moment till everything will vanish, and you and me, we'll dissipate, we'll not be googly anymore from now on, exactly as it comes, tales will rest in their own time costumed with your thoughts, which have been spread by each emotion we experienced about from now on, exactly as it comes, it'll be set, a different kind of love, perhaps a lucky love, for offering, what I am looking for in sounds, and colors, shapes, and mystery from now on, exactly as it comes, the fantasy in its new potency will be, just as it is, a joy, a tint, a melody, a touch, a feeling or a lust, confirmed to me, saint honesty...

when your thoughts are touching mine,  it's in a foreign language; even if everyone seems to understand it,   the truth is known only by me and you; our minds and bodies hold our secrets into a word equivalent to the mirage; it's an inspiration for us to don't give up; (i got you...), (you got me...)

❝ So many days, oh so many days seeing you so tangible and so close, how do I pay, with what do I pay? The bloodthirsty spring has awakened in the woods. The foxes start from their earth, the serpents drink the dew, and I go with you to the leaves between the pines and the silence, asking myself how and when I will have to pay for my luck. Of everything I have seen, it’s you I want to go on seeing: of everything I’ve touched, it’s your flesh I want to go on touching. I love your orange laughter. I am moved by the sight of you sleeping. What am I to do, love, loved one? I don’t know how others love or how people loved in the past. I live, watching you, loving you. Being in love is my nature. You please me more each afternoon. Where is she? I keep on asking if your eyes disappear. How long she’s taking! I think, and I’m hurt. I feel poor, foolish, and sad, and you arrive and you are lightning glancing off the peach trees. ...

like a fool, I dreamed of you from forever tired of watching me, the universe created a deep space just the two of us to be able of sharing each other our love instead of loving you I preferred to lose myself in visions of my own and instead of loving me you preferred what you still full time preoccupied of public opinion, our realm got reduced till it disappeared like a season and I loved you like a crazy, wildly and ghostly without understanding why and what happens and you loved me, too I've found out in a new spring, — you, gratuitous blue, — you, astronomic joy looking for miraculous in another limelight

somewhere... — someday... in an imprudent moment caressed by blue silence of the moon you'll recognize yourself in the waves of a friendship, a treasure hidden in memories exposed to find that solace... — my aim is to offer you the key... once upon a time's [all I've got]

with some stubbornly persistent illusion, wise and adequate, manipulated by you, a known unknown creature, who adores to be felt where unpredictability exists to play and serve simultaneously, my smile, pardoned in a delighting glass with tricky liquor, created meticulously to touch you at a present mind's hour, taken over from one of the pasts led to one of the futures, it's our universe that looks synonymously with some stubbornly persistent... illusion ⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯ an illusion of a longing lost, kept hostage on the groans of a blues, playing its thrills at a carafe, haunted by disinterestedness, but which has the ghostly love's promises glorified on an astral rug plaited with stars and the prophecy of the sun and the moon guarded by spirits of the seas and oceans to not get swarmed by the lie of happiness that has its address in the forest of hopes and where our thought is walking its game, ...an illusion of a longing lost, kept hostage

shut up and kiss me kiss me good morning, kiss me good night, kiss me good appetite your mouth on mine sincerity of a defeat

if you could make a little time for me, you could start daily your day with only a thousandth of a second filled with your silence inside me, just to jingle, based on the other's idea which educates you to learn to let go to all your apathy, enough to get able resetting your watch, and as well to run on with a hundredth of a second until your mind mechanism will meet me, flawlessly, at a nonspecific precise hour, — not earlier, not later, but just to hold on into divine harmony absorbed by alchemy of our blood with orgasmic taste, when you breathe me to breathe you (in dream)

in spite of any experience, you know you need to search for me even more; all you gotta do is rollin' and dancin'; dance to the left to the right, thinking as if we are in a science fiction movie; make up your mind to make it out... I watch you; I jump… jump like you in a humoristic way, metaphorical and gradually; it is funny until next time

The news comes from nowhere with the courtesy to be gripped not just informed about a dream A dream that loves to haunt me every night and any single day A dream where if you're caught, you're getting lost in it forever A dream that'll try to make you happier than happy at any cost This is You... A dream of mine... burning... burning beautiful bad... A dream I never had so seductive

Would I want you to kiss every little piece of me? — I would. Would I want you to drink from me the booze of gods? — I would. Would I want you to take me in your hands and in your mouth and to have a greedy feast from me? — I would. Would I want your limbs to be around me and my mouth to be starved and thirsted for your kisses? — I would. Would I wanna feel the hunger of your wildish passion devouring me completely in your tenderness's rhythm? — I would. I'd wanna know how you crave for the taste of my love and what would you do to keep this desire avidly forever I want you to dry my every tear with your lips, to feel your breath on my neck, exorcising my sadness Dunno how but you got to do it still, [you turn me on]

bizarre sensations arise from a different world in this revelation of a black and white matinée where is used the mystical language of an entity; a demon lover, good bad in the bed of the nights, as well as it is, in the bed of morning or of noon, or whenever is called, appearing without accusing but only to offer the pleasure you're asking for... ✧ bizarre sensation in a mystical language is music of today's revelation like a black & white matinée

The calm blue sky has vanished, you've left behind the spring… wasn't important any sigh, — you've made your choice so clear. Then, summer with its nights appeared and disappeared, — I waited for you till morning dew, not even then, you've not revealed. And autumn came, much earlier hearing my cries calling for you, but all the scattered feelings shaped an identic attitude. Now winter's here but seems I am the one that's changed, — the gallant echo of the spring, like you & I… it disappeared… an army full of devils, it does it feels electric, it's power as I'm chasing fire  to shake it up where it began, at the vertigo introduction⇡up

The universe began to blossom, fed chaotic by a bunch of moods and conceptions full of passion. 𓇼 Full of passion is the poetry, airing its essence in the cadence of the midnight salute of stars. 𓇼 In mind's culpability of someone, the name of who we're thinking, it's replaced with the pronoun, s/he. 𓇼 Inspired, their actions get wildly. And black is beautiful to cook it up, in thoughts bloomed out of joy.

what color has happiness and how many languages does it talk,  what's its appearance and how could be recognized or if it has any preference when decides to appear… how long would it stay, more or a limited period… it's the pulse of a thought about what I feel at this very present time; a thought guided by hopes and significant sensations found in all sentiments inside of my desires, reasons and aims… Happiness, Welcome!

At any end of the year, the same game is unfolded. The present year asks if I feel guilty about anything, or if it has to feel guilty about something. Then, it hinted me to keep only the good memories, the rest, it said, — please, put it in on me. Inevitably, it kept on, — I know you learned new things, or at least, some suspicions of yours were confirmed. For a moment, I was surprised when it changed a few words with the new year, which, even if it appeared disguised as a tiny white rabbit, I recognized it by its manner of gazing at me. It was receiving some advice… — the old year said to the new one, — (love her madly). Let her happiness act for you as (your best enemy).

you said something, I said something; questions to responses are whispered; moments are not hidden, but searched; certainly was something it shouldn't be; the consequences are in cupid's realm; a timid game to know me to know you; therefore, — in this spectacular parade of paradox, who's the wolf, who's the black sheep?

Say to the stars how shiny they are. Say to the wind how gentle it is. Say to the dreams in a velvety air to KᵉᵉᵖOⁿKᵉᵉᵖⁱⁿᵍOⁿ so to don't stop no matter what sins will get to you... Hang on! I'll keep on loving you kindly, purely, cheery, immaculate, rousing up the attractiveness to the graceful cote of the miracle of what you are and who you are, indifferently how rarely or often my name will be on your lips...

I'm gonna be home for the holidays. The sweet figurines of chocolate with colorful taste, the candies, and cakes moistened gallantly will aromatize the house with traditional specialties created in my agnostic language to bring the balance in contrast with sacred liqueurs of gods which have the aim to cherish this treasured day as each moment to be manifested in the fluid harmony of music with funny steps gently pirouetted in front of smiles and tender gestures adapted in the special K manner of the event.

Take out from my hair and from wherever the guilty sentiments of yours towards me. You know that candlelight can become sun enough to enlighten the darkest hours. Bring to me the shine of your love and the feelings with all images out of the past. Fairy tales and laughter stirred by blame, incertitude, sleepless nights, passions and an imaginary kiss will heal any obsession. Take out from my hair and from wherever the guilty sentiments of yours towards me. Don’t you remember when I told you that the mystery of the night can be whenever, in the middle of the day or whichever hour? So let’s splash out our love, let's devour it. Let’s be lovers tonight. What do you say?

like a dreamcatcher at the right hours, i've inserted my math in your equation by giving you infinite choices to solve my set of tactics at various frequency some have been brought from the past in minor tones of 69 for 2 of us to sum the actual moment adjacent to a grade with pigment sexual… vibe isotropic… the result obtained was multiplied and divided into the able radical expression of the irrational square root, – ⁽ʸᵒᵘ & ᵐᵉ⁾ at perfectly square function, – ⁽ᵐᵉ & ʸᵒᵘ⁾

with few royal whispers, I've been lured in the majestic castle of your brain, just to have a place where to lose my mind while the venom of your lips gorges me, as later, as a side effect, when inevitably I'll wake up, to have no tendency to ask about what happened, but just to rewind the fancy game of your sinner soul, in me, which with flair... the sun-kissed it... a lot

again the time hasn't any more patience and consigns my thoughts to look for you; again a lot of letters jumped out of images and solitary phrases with immaculate words majestic sculpted to create touches, thrills and playful feelings able to remember me about the aim of our rendezvous incarnated in a place hidden between lines of a song, of a shadow or a gentle light from a photo or colors, tints, and shapes of a painting with tout de suite of characters exposed in the spotlight of some subtle alliances gifted with a voice only to meet you again

Sometimes, when I feel invisible or isolated by those people who I don't even know 'em, I tuck myself into good feelings, then I make from my present a gorgeous party, expressed in percentages of vibrations capable to shake any answer without question and vice-versa. It might sound pretty bookish, but justifies the reason for which I feel powerful & loved, admired, smart, and intuitive, but also, envied by persons who love using their complacency accusing that false tiredness. Hereby, I chose to get transfigured in beauty fiction or poetry, in a song or insistent onomatopoeia, as others to can feel the incantations of a wildish soul. ✴ trrrrr acia, trrrrr ha ha trrrrr voom bam, trrrrr ha ha shalalala... ya ✴

it's Christmas time, pretty baby ;)) happy holidays wherever you are 🎄 (santa claus is back in town)

Imagination is just like facts. It's just as much as reality. It's like an intense, unknowing love. It's as deep, or perhaps even more focused than a shared but not materialized love. A love, which regardless of its form, doesn't waste any twinkle in gestures, or words that can't always be expressed but constantly appears on this day, D13. That's the truest truth… And yes, it's a pleonasm, à la ᵏᴼᵏᴼ more or less………….bad as hell tchin-tchin 🥂

the galaxy rotates in the rhythm of the music for an authentic mood of the dreamer you are, lost and delighted, breathing my love and will, to cut up the shield where I am with your lust; emotions felt, set the joy no matter whenever in a tender blue with a merry Christmas, baby, for love of December is adorned by your thrill wrapped in a little bit of everything traditional 🎄

you are to me, — the winter fête's attire crocheted with the cashmere of the verses' karma of my gray-blue eyes of the muse i am to you to diffuse the satiny sky's scent entwined with holly and ivy in neon moon's sheen at the shadow of a kiss of whichever season… [if anybody asks you]

because your smile seems a glory... box of some dreams have been telegraphed at an odd address from a sarcastic area this area, — staged in splendid art style of the Picasso, in my pocket is wandering with my whispers in your fantasy's colors

I'm breathing deeply to set aside the weight of a stubborn waiting from a demented and static life. Machined in unbearable sweetness, your sagacity erases my delusions, overflowing bit by bit, anew lust on me. Wave upon wave thru wheel of time, you are demanded in my being, using your mirthfully glance full of candor. That's why, I lean my dreams, soothed in the stars' constellation, tenderly to cherish you with their physiognomy.