Towards Lovers Edge (day 801)

[him]
Could you fall away with me if I promised it was ok
If I took you by the hand and led you towards the rivers edge
Kissed you upon the lips and told you now to jump
I never planned this out before, left here in my nurtured youth
Trembling as I think about unknown, about me alone
About sending you away without my written love notes
My heart pressed deep against your breast in forbidden passion
Ecstasy written between the gay light passed behind your [eye]lids

[her]
I wouldn’t let you cry out loud into the night
Unless I had also haunts of lost lovers swarming around my head
Blanket confusion tickling my conscience with what-have-you-nots
Layered upon layers of silken sheets and fluffy pillows
And teddy bears that leave empty spaces filled
And boudoirs that pacify my opaque thoughts
That wrestle with harmony of yesterday’s future plans
I don’t want you to go away my lover, but go away and leave me to cry

[him]
Did you know then what I had was what doomed me from the start
That my working man’s trousers, neither holed nor soiled
Would pit me against your desires until Eros delayed his return
Until fantasy led my thoughts around romantic lagoons of Europe’s finest
Weeping willows strewn about the well trimmed landscape
Where lovers embraced in subtle corners, lost in speeches
That wore about patience, dressed in each others clothes
I would storm the armed battalion with my bare hands to capture your love!

[her]
But passion fuels lust and leads the way to love
It flutters my lovers heart to rhythmic depth of my pride
Folding my lessons over antique rocking chairs in an Easter yellow mood
Roasting the fagot rapidly upon the hearth of my souls intentions
Acting as liaison for my patience’s clock that ticks and tocks
Rolling my vowels into soothing purring that flesh out unwanted consonants
And bring my eyes to reach at your hands that surround the soul of our family
Growing inside the warmth of a mothers tender heart that sings delight today

Projected Innocence (day 800)

I’ve lost a thought in memory
Rolling around in the dirty grounds
Muddy and scarred with obsolete treasures

I HAVE NOT PLANNED FOR YOUR HAPPINESS

This isn’t my sacred song
Dusted off as I pass over bridges
Projected innocence, searching and unmoved

I am within, locked but open
Clawing my way towards rivers edge
Forgetting the words to my only song

No Direction Known (day 797)

I am a victim of a cry
I am saddened no desire
Your denial of pleasure
Of finer things in life
Another way

I am a truth without a cause
A burning candle without a wick
When things explode
I am the hole
Absent of memory

I am a lesson never learnt
Beaten into fibrous lush
Browned and featureless
Lost and empty
Homeless

I am the midnight street walking
A single fluorescent light aglow
Long shadows down the road
And no finger prints
Left outdoors

I am not your golden rule
Your constant stream of pleasure
Lollygagging in suns warmth
Straight and narrow
There is no direction known

CaribooHillSnowDay - 20120116 (15 of 22)

Angels Embrace (day 796)

I dance with an angel slithering up my back
Lightly digging her fingernails into points on my spine
Our sweet summer skin melting in the motion
A smooth song hits us in sensitive spots
Ebbing and swelling the tips of our hearts
We inhale each others substance
Focus gathers in tiny beads of sweat
Flickering brightly in the midday sun
Her collar bone eats up my carnivorous thoughts
Tempting my index finger to trace lower edges
Hiding in the shadows, decadent as they wait
She spins, fingers lightly touch my ribs
….and we hold.

Model: Amanda Silvera Photogapher: Maijah Lewk.
Model: Amanda Silvera

Agape (day 795)

No desire, no direction pointed towards
Or passion warming the hearth
With a listless presence, standing
Mouth agape, as bait laid carelessly
In a young child’s idle play
Ebbs at the sight of prey
Understanding, in the heat of noon
Dirt clouds seeking moisture,
Wild calls shan’t be pry thy ears
Shan’t whip thy conscience into curt action
That thunders in yonder distant hills

All rests timelessly
All accumulates that which old books,
Unactivated ceiling fans, and
Old couch-sofas in a sunbeam’s gaze
Collect, like passport stickers,
Green-rot below country home taps, and
Knots in old women’s backs
Seem to enrich all our lives in
Sweet mother natures precious stamp
Time which counts ever longer
Into agape county rancher-home scenes

Tea is served through the wire mesh
Swing door on a rancher style patio
With hard footsteps of stiff manners
And an old rocking chair
With one checkered cushion
While sun recedes behind
Yonder silent hills
Slowly rocking in the evenings breeze

Daddies Rusty Gun (day 793)

I used to be a dangerous babe
Then I dashed away my stripes
And wrote away my lovers
I stuck them like pigs
Flapping in the breeze
Their hearts around my neck
In golden lockets
Blazed with scorn of time
Shifting about my mothers brow
I splattered about my mirror
My soul, so I could watch it
In pouting and daunting sex appeal
Seemingly oozing down my leg
As if spit on me by studs
Strap-backed homies with
Daddies rusty gun

I used to be a dangerous babe
Then I stripped away my vain
Carved remorse into my pale arms
And blew kisses into the wind

Pushing Defeat (day 792)

I am pushing away my talents into a pit full of defeat
Losing my sense of touch as I turn off my eyes and shut out my ears

I am managing my vices into small little pockets
Keeping them close to reap what I fancy while ignoring the pangs

I am losing my stability that once held my shoulders back and head high
As I slouch forward at my torture all day passing wisdom into ignorant ears

I am glass without even a foggy decay bouncing about the oceans surf
No message, no inside, not even a small culture clinging to the rough edges

I am falling into the lost pages of all the dusty books
Pressed flat to be a disconnected memory with a faint lingering scent

But alas, I am a strong thought late at night when all else settles down
When the moon rises and coyotes howl and the sheets rumple at thy feet