sexta-feira, 29 de janeiro de 2010

By the Shore

I sit by the shore, awaiting
the Flood to overcome,
reign over me.

One deep blue sea that lies so many a league
its low ebb never seems to end.

Beneath the flesh and my mammal facade,
the nature of my origins claw at my soul,
a marine yearning for the touch of blue,
for the being blue itself,
without a thought,
without time,
without gravity and footing.

And then She comes,
She storms upon Her bed in Majestic Attire,
Rising regally an indomitable regina is to
Crash upon the rock, fuel the land in me,
Fill the crevasses and valleys
Till I overflow,

and there is no more need for words.

terça-feira, 12 de janeiro de 2010

Night Reigns Over Moscow

Moon Gazing

One gaze sweeping through the snow filled fields, aiming at this
Majestic moon, there she stands queenly drawing the magnets
in me, up up and away. Starry silvery celebristie subjects all about
Abound with gleaming shiny pearl dust, gems simple fillings of
A shawl, a cape, a veil over her ivory skin, and I,

a barefoot, hole-in-pocket wandering bundle of mortal memories,
a wisp of smoke rising in this ethereal arctic air, already fading and aging,
fumbling through the rags for a word key to my tied tongue,
ecstasy. incensed thoughts burnt in a glimpse of your Eyes,

Blues jazzing what's become of my limbs and hips. Yes,
the closer I get, the further you are, playfully withdrawing,
Joyfully receding laughter in them in your lips and hands too,
throwing me off balance, in this one space, tearing our one into 2,

Until you come down on me as gravity as a blessed thirsty Fury
Showering my land with fiery sparks of red burgundy lava
you supernova, you revolutizia, you eva.


Thanks to Raychulwhasername @

As I leave you, as I part from you,
The living gossamer thread inside is torn
Apart. One kaleidoscopic network of semi solidified words diluted in the wind,
Unsaid, unwritten, undone.

For they could never have been uttered from lips in sheer satisfaction,
Inside our whole universe of milky skins,clasped palms,yinyang bodies,
a touch is a word, a look a sentence, a kiss a verb.

Instead these words hung around me, almost ready to be used, making me a throne, bringing the sugar to the tip
of the tongue
that you savoured so fiercely,took in as its new fiery and soothing home.

Again am I faced
with the fact that wordless and
speechless I lie before your feet,
now outcast, now snowbound,
ready for the inevitable fall
into not this World of Ours,
but a world of hours.