Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Thursday, July 5, 2007
poems i wrote, 07/01/2007
helical coils,
strands all meshed together--
vertically then wrapped tightly,
like so many strings of DNA
or infinity in spiral -- as paper cut outs
stretched out then clipped frequently
those signs of aging
the damned hair growing out
of my nose and my ears.
penis:
crooked and bent,
used up an spent,
surviving, now alone.
here we sit on our own.
pinked and wrinkled...
yellowed and tinkled!
flaccid and soft
it once held aloft...
each of the male genius
has a penis.
firm and ready,
throbbing and steady,
aching and arching
wanting some sparking
pink and steamin',
full of semen,
as if it had a mind of its own
rigid and hard without a bone...
each of the male genius
has a penis.
cut or uncircumcised,
it lies between our thighs,
happy member and our friend
we'll care fro it 'til the end.
pink with rose coloured head
we stroke it absentmindedly in our bed.
dick ,cock, prick or dong...
no matter how thick or long
each of the male genius
has a penis.
Sunday, July 1, 2007
time the robber of...
time the robber of…
precious moments,
youth, beauty and grace,
sunlight and shadow playing on the lace curtains of our childhood dreams,
rainy summer days walking about the local park,
late nights at the observatory viewing stars and constellations,
radio waves of songs first sung now but rewound bits of tape in lost corners
of our minds,
colours radiant on misty rainbows of our a life time spent looking for that
precious pot of gold,
wishing wells and fountains that ate us up, the loose coins of our youth,
islands and travels now mere anecdotes of a near forgotten past,
runes-correspondences, the letters we have written on papers now withered
or email already sent,
urgent spent up fluids that had long waited for nocturnal release,
fireworks like so much sulfuric fumes and images just faded memories,
lights and sounds of smoke filled dance floors of our misspent youth,
hours sent learning to ice skate to compete and only make nationals four
times,
lessons and practice on guitar, harp and flute,
struggles trying to compose the next great love ballad or show tune,
soft lips once kissed in silence on an sleepover,
was he really asleep?
post midnight dancing ‘round bale fires and drumming,
tears of pain and joy spent in emotional turmoil, our masochistic bliss,
moments like eternity outside the head master’s office,
the waxing and waning of the moon, my spiritual friend,
blissful orgasmic encounters of a happy adolescence,
faded…
smooth and supple skin traded for dried, wrinkled, age spotted hides
the fates seal us to this doom and the eventual loss of…
life it’s self.
what happen to that handsome youth in the mirror?
where did he go?
as we approach lammas in the crone years of my faery existence…
in lucid dreams my minds re-tails so many stories of my life
only to feel cheated by the wheels of time.
June 30, 2007 early am.
precious moments,
youth, beauty and grace,
sunlight and shadow playing on the lace curtains of our childhood dreams,
rainy summer days walking about the local park,
late nights at the observatory viewing stars and constellations,
radio waves of songs first sung now but rewound bits of tape in lost corners
of our minds,
colours radiant on misty rainbows of our a life time spent looking for that
precious pot of gold,
wishing wells and fountains that ate us up, the loose coins of our youth,
islands and travels now mere anecdotes of a near forgotten past,
runes-correspondences, the letters we have written on papers now withered
or email already sent,
urgent spent up fluids that had long waited for nocturnal release,
fireworks like so much sulfuric fumes and images just faded memories,
lights and sounds of smoke filled dance floors of our misspent youth,
hours sent learning to ice skate to compete and only make nationals four
times,
lessons and practice on guitar, harp and flute,
struggles trying to compose the next great love ballad or show tune,
soft lips once kissed in silence on an sleepover,
was he really asleep?
post midnight dancing ‘round bale fires and drumming,
tears of pain and joy spent in emotional turmoil, our masochistic bliss,
moments like eternity outside the head master’s office,
the waxing and waning of the moon, my spiritual friend,
blissful orgasmic encounters of a happy adolescence,
faded…
smooth and supple skin traded for dried, wrinkled, age spotted hides
the fates seal us to this doom and the eventual loss of…
life it’s self.
what happen to that handsome youth in the mirror?
where did he go?
as we approach lammas in the crone years of my faery existence…
in lucid dreams my minds re-tails so many stories of my life
only to feel cheated by the wheels of time.
June 30, 2007 early am.
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