Posts Tagged Sex

Office Window Shadorma 6

Flat sandals,

silky fingers play.

Dark on dark,

happily toked,

rides in blue convertibles.

Take my mind away.

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With Soup

She blows softly with devotion,
cooling nurturing soup.
Would she blow beauty on me?
I would swoop euphorically
between her breasts,
her extravagant skin.
She would swoosh her satiny, fanciful hair
all over my eyelashes,
and my spirit would erupt,
twirling and bouncing about the bed
as if on fire.

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Bring Me My Angels

Muddling through tar-faced crashes,
frozen, wrapped with paralyzed skin.

If the luck plows gracefully into me,
one of them smashes into my jail.
She smiles huge, her fingers dance
on my face and inject high-speed love.
Oh, the unexplainable thrust of joy!

They swing on delicate, perfect legs,
their fingers smothering me in green,
plush, sweet jelly and bandages of milk.

Their arms wind and wrap smoothly
around my head millions of times.
Millions of assurances of permanence.

Bubbles of my blood tell me it is okay.
Sizzling threads of my shirt say, king,
go wrap yourself with their bodies
and dine in the sweetest nectars.

My angels arch their backs and
their necks are the smoothest fur.
Their eyes sprinkle grains of love.

The sieve sweeps softy  through
the gray of my mind, blubber lightens,
it starts to float and starts to charge
my frame with bolts of fused
shaking strokes from Picasso’s
brush, pulling all of the fog
deep into the fabricated carpet.

Losing faith in my god, I believe
in restoration for everyone save me,
but do not tell me angels aren’t
from the most special god.

My angels give me sparse,
brief moments of pure elation,
pure love, and without these
very brief moments, I would
have been gone long ago.

I want my angels with me,
wrapped around me with slick
juices protecting me from the
world forever, but my angels
are busy with chaos, fixing other
failures as heavily as they do me.

So my only wish is for these brief
moments to allow me to live.
Please, my angels, help me smile,
help me breathe, help me go slowly
in love.  Breathe slowly in love.

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Anticipation of Soft Playgrounds

Seething gray inches smoothly

Through big, West plates

Filled with faithful evergreens.

Morning is too soon, but

Swimming vines, gripping softly,

Simmer the stew of life.

Pliable comets of bodies of silk,

Velvety lotions of wild hormones,

Promise of a day with no other agenda,

Adoration blooming without fear,

Shaking with bright foreshadowing,

Not waiting for the blackness to

Smother and scare the gray.

Hoping explosive, calming reds of

Evening to come will fuse the old,

Broken grounds of love’s history.

Dreaming anticipation of

Cushioned, soft playgrounds to come

Will forbid unwanted guests of

Torture and hopelessness.

Knowing that hope and those

Brilliant, deep, blue eyes

Will conquer the meaninglessness.

Let her work, God, please

Let her cover me in warm chains of

Silk, comforting with blue waves.

Please let her protect me from

All of the evil, heavy swarms of

Vicious wolves who love to harm daily.

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