UNDERGROUND RETROSPECT: LOVE

Poetry Queen is my muse
Unique with words
She's challenging me
With poetry of love
My heart is beating rapidly
For her unique words
Bring custom wisdom
To wander lust mind

Love is not a poem drinking coffee at dusk  
calculating distance of space to close between us;  
It's a ratio of silence at the gallery opening;  
the dark-cornered guest with an understanding  
we fail to emulate.  
  
It mingles like an impaled olive, cemented  
in glassine. Its grief outshines  
beautiful lichen munching satiated on stone  
when taken for granted, or aroused.  
The reminder hurts, so we close its orange-red eye  
with the sharp fingers of our mouth.  
 
We reason its truth until shrunken to a memory  
of a memory. It's not about our need, though;  
not the climb, the thrill, the release of salt  
and oil across our lips. It's about the stomach, peeling  
from the burn of heart. Or, becoming soggy, stale—  
our wordless mouths wide as epitaphs, sealed  
in a burning envelope of flesh.  
   
Love is not an Arbitrator mitigating gravity  
of circumstance with the warmth of absolution  
between us. Nor is it all wine at dawn, reflecting  
its burgundy omen. It's a bite: raw cacao; pine  
needles and bare feet; spoon of ice cream;  
swallowing a shard of ice.  
   
It's not a bookie on the bench with a pigeon  
in the race. But the very coop where we hatched,  
innated with a return tracking device;
but, all our educated-ignorance doesn't know how  
to finish this poem, so we can get back home once again.  
   
The End?  
(too cliché)  
 
Blessed be?  
(you're kidding?)
   
Namaste?  
(too "new age-y")
   
Sincerely?  
(too blasé)
   
Cordially --  
Best, or Kind regards?  
(too distant or formal)
   
Your Friend?  
(too "pamphlet-y")
   
Always?  
(maybe...)
   
Love?  
Yes. Love. 
~

Ideally,    
an endless, replenishing  
source of nourishment,    
an ever flowing fountain.    
     
In reality,    
braving quenchless thirst,  
accustomed to leaky faucets,    
sporadically dripping.  
Trying our best to avoid dehydration  
   
Hypothetically,    
a warm invitation to    
dine amongst a long crowded table    
adorning an abundant feast.    
   
In actuality,    
grappling hunger pains.  
Unwelcomed outcasts,    
tossed scraps under the table    
sparingly offered left overs,    
sometimes settling for mere crumbs.    
Barely escaping starvation.    
   
A hodgepodge    
Some, fortunate enough to find it    
Others, spend a lifetime    
searching for it.    
The clusterfuck of love    
   
Yet, here I am    
accepting what is,    
In the habit of taking    
whatever I can get ...  
   
Don’t mind me,    
over here,    
Shamelessly
Savagely
Licking    
love    
off  
Knives

She’s like a symphony of words, of chorus and chords,
Coursing, dripping with emotion and lust sweet to the ear,
Rich in texture with a sheer delectable kinetic resonance,
My mind goes blind with decadence and joyous cheer.
 
You might say it’s copacetic to hear her spoken expressions,
Her lilts, her inflections, her delivery can be completely magnetic,
Almost prophetic and wholly aesthetically pleasing to the seer,
The way it appears to slip from her lips it’s really quite poetic.
 
It’s almost like that elusive dream with an obtrusive theme,
An unseen or unheard of aural fixation that ignites the night,
A flight of harmonies which fill the senses with utter amazement,
Like beautiful, would be an understatement to describe her light.
 
She’s like a masterpiece of mystery and clandestine desires,
A fusion of choirs and portrayers assembled to play the play,
By the way each one carries their notes and individual parts,
There is an art to the entire composition that carries me away.

from a package of 50, one pulled
by slender soft fingers and hand
gentle sensual and cool
told me, I am her man.

her pen upon my skin,
tickles me with delight
each stroke makes me giggle
as her ink continues to write.

Her hands slide a message within
causing me to want her more
I lay on the table and grin
Knowing that there will be more.

Smoothed out upon my form
she carefully opens my flap
Her hands causes me to warm
As she licks the glue off my lap.

Now she folds the flap shut
And seals me with a strong press
For a moment in loving time
Our skin is in perfect caress!

And now with a Forever stamp
She readies our final post
O, envelope me again
for I want only her the most.