I pointed my arches
Damned the curls
And gripped tightly
To my dimpled smile
For never was
A tired soul
Ever found beyond
Filtered reflections
Tag: smile
Dragging Left Wing | Chapter V (day 948)
XIII
We had friends, sure. The kind of friends that went missing during the daylight hours and came out at night. Friends you’re not sure you’ve known sober. Perhaps this is toxicity… or fun.
We’d all get together at one of our pads. Getting all preparing at one of our dimly lit haunts. The ladies would all be scurrying around getting their ons-on. It was sub-culture at it’s finest. We knew it and cultivated it like Grama’s purple pansies. It reminded me of the ol’ Beatnik poets, or scenes of Almost Famous where they de-flowered William Miller. Those crazies who lived on the edge of poverty, half addicted to some narcotic the other half so close to the insane asylum it was the pure fabric of our well knit society that held them together.
It was interesting watching everybody in their own. Mindlessly wandering about their fantasies as that’d surface and take root in a discussion. We were a group of intellects, not withstanding the freeloading social surfers looking for their own stay too. We all have those, those curiously inclined but far to mind fucked to be able to withstand the rigors of an alternate lifestyle. Society is a tenacious mother who doesn’t let that stranglehold loose too often. Vice grips made of the finest steel a man can mine.
XIV
When you find yourself in these kind of situations, it’s easy to trace back memories to circumstances: naked and alluring. It’s a smile and a random comment. A shared drink. What started as a gentle touch on the shoulder and a look so dangerous it ate magic and cast spells. A perspiring beer bottle. Cowboy boots. Tweed jackets with patches on the elbow and thick rimmed glasses that poked out the sides.
It was love and magnetic, like a riveting fiction steeped in sex scenes and pool hall billiards and whiskey shots and a love story.
And I was a sucker.
XV
This isn’t a competition. This isn’t a battle for your love. This is an experience that we’re on together, holding hands, loving, whispering, walking, and waltzing through the evening’s twilight music rustling out through the brown wooden speakers of the 33 spinning wheels.
I corked my own bottle, I dusted off my own boots, I held the door for you. This was me, it was never my attempt to woo you, to brainwash you into me. At least not fully. Of course it’s hard for me to not try my best to cast my spells, in the end. I knew my spells were commingling with yours though. All the difference.
XVI
In the evenings we’d go for walks along the sombre street sidewalks, arm in arm with unconsciously matched steps; a slow pace. Slow dance in the living room with dirty indy music holding us close.
The floors were old parquet flooring; only a few loose segments to mind. We’d navigate the few squeaky spots with delicate care and embrace.
It’s funny how intimate relationships are always stifled in public. Soft becomes hard. Release become manicured. But the saunter always exists, the presence is constant. Julie had a swagger cultivated entirely. So did the rest of the gang, the lousy group of modern beatniks, loveless bastards, free floating radicals, my family of grandeurs I’d so come to call by love.
[note: to read full epic follow dragging left wing]
Dragging Left Wing | Chapter IV (day 940)
X
We were like kids, all day long sleeping around in nothing but our underwear and blankets that twisted and rumpled us into our own magic land of wanderlust. Between our carnal moments of pure passion I’d feed her citrus fruits that would sting the sin off our tongues. There was no Western movie script office, no bills pulling at our wallets, no jealousy, no wandering, no eager eyes or the next best thing. We did complete each other.
We were hustlers and lovers. Not gangsters. We didn’t thump our rap in our chrome rimmed mobiles, we didn’t include bling in our vocabulary. We were class that believed in perfumes, curls, a kimono, shoes that announced ones arrival, low light, martinis.
In the evening she’d sit around reading from books like Understanding Witchcraft, Seduction, How to Love a Man, and Being a Proper Housewife. We’re talking stuff straight from prohibition era, when a suit and tie was what real men wore to the bar, not ripped up jeans and a backwards hat.
From time to time she’d get up and stretch the largest stretch I’ve ever seen. She was a Yogini, so it was desire to watch her bend as she did. Her breath would catch with mine and I’d flow with her qi. Mostly I think she was weaving her spells she’d just read about, leading me into a place I really didn’t mind being at. She’d eye me, and flip me that focused kind of smile.
‘Service with a smile’ was her favorite saying. She’d come back into the bedroom with a plate full of some delicacy she had just concocted and beam with those words written on her mouth. I would always laugh, eager to see what my next feeding would entail. Never let down.
XI
She would leave that bed when it was her time to work. It was always a rush because we’d both hold off until the very last minute to get ready, keeping our naked skin touching that so pleased us both.
She was one fine specimen of the female variety. I would crawl up and down just at the very thought of her being. I would coo softly when I’d get to hold onto her hips. It was hard for me to tell whether it was this very act or another more carnal act that pleased me so. The pure thought of it sends my heart into emotional fluttering. Often I’d watch her dancing around the room with transparent fabrics lightly floating around her as she moved [for me].
XII
My favorite time of season was the autumn. The time of season when the fresh bright greens and floral yellows and purples and reds would fade away into earthy tones of death and decay. I’m not sadistic; it’s a time of connection to life and death. Pure. The anticipation of winter’s cold, the preparation for warmer clothes. Closing the windows and sweeping the sidewalk and laying bare all trees that stand in mother natures way. A transition we have no control over. Serenity.
Julia would pull out her old mukluks to wear around the bare wooden floors of the apartment. With these and her panties on I could hardly stop myself from enveloping her. Exploding with a passion aching to jump out of my skin and hunger for more. She knew this, and would smile uncontrollably when she knew this was where I was at. I never left her wondering, she had asked me not to.
Do you know what it’s like to have an unbridled passionate outlet, matched ebb and flow for carnal desires?
[note: to read full epic follow dragging left wing]
Old Favorite Sweater (day 930)
I’ve unconditionally surrendered my old favorite sweater
It’s ok, I like her
But… there’s something about it
There’s a beat-up-rusty-truck memory
With worn seats – yellow foam surprises
You know, a once-was-navy-blue bench seat
Shift-knob-black that knows my sentimental touch
Caressing like I’ve driven her well
Like I’ve taken care not to drip gas-o-line
Checked the oil twice a month
And kept the tires at an even thirty five p-s-i
Perhaps the memories are shared with
These in-animate things
These pieces of fabric and steel-workers toil
That warm those chilling days
That don’t quite sit flush the whole way down
Letting familiar drafts rush up the back
Hands in my pocket
Perhaps this is why I smile when she’s wearing it
After all, it’s alright to let these things
Live a life of their own
To sit me down and coo in my ear
Hot chocolate and unconditional
Kind of love
Intrusion Machinery (day 921)
For my lost smile
Settling amongst wind caves
Swept through answers
Clearing my soul
Of intrusive machinery
Pressures of time
I whisper lightly
To my knees I crawl and
Let the lessons lean
On the gravity of my mind
Where by the end
I cannot surprise you
Eyes wide open
Starlet extending thy heart
Entwined
The Back Of the Book (day 896)
Why does the world have to die like this
An endless jaunt through crowded parks
Heartaches that climb up through the heart
Passed by breath from lung to lung
Lumping into salivial glands
Memories that remind innocence
How far time that’s yet to come
Has left them remembering why
An arrow has never remained straight
Lapping at the oceans edge
Each star, remaining a soul
Holding onto an unforgotten memory
Never understood, never accepted
Never wanted and hoped against
Battling with unending tests
I cry for this moment
For this death that whispers to all of us
Screeching to a halt in accidental disarray
I am not a cause for understanding
Victimless and harmless and misunderstood
So remind me of an arching smile
Radiating eyes and hugs that last too long
Leave me remembering what will never again be
Again, a lost answer in the back of the book
A scribbled name in hasty mischief
Tears running below my chin
Death so close I can touch it
A hurt longing for the tips of my toes
The soul hovering
As a chance of love and heartache and an unending story
How Would We Spend Our Days (day 784)
But if I never held your hand
How would I know your touch?
But if I never spoke your name
How would I call you to me?
But if I never smelled your essence
How would I find my memories?
But if I never whispered lightly
How would I hear you call?
But if I never watched the sunset
How would I dream of you at night?
But if we never gazed afar
How would we ever smile together?
But if we never danced to slow songs
How would we spend our days?
Looked Like a Lover (day 779)
She looked like a lover I used to have
Who wouldn’t let me hold her tight
Though she’d lay naked on my bed
She looked like a lover I used to know
Who would sing a song to my keen heart
Then tell me not to listen to a word
She looked like a lover I used to love
Eyes so wide, figure so heavenly
But she told me not to smile again
She looked like a lover I used to believe
Words weaving dreams and harmony
Till she blew out her last plume of smoke
She looked like a lover I used to praise
Elegant and beauty deep and divine
Then she spoiled my words with one final goodbye
Infected (day 758)
Your beauty is infectious
Swimming around in my blood
Running through my thoughts
Hinging my smile at the edges
Putting a jump in my step
And I kind of like it
It’s like an amarillo in blossom
Shining in the garden with wide arms
Whispering everything I want to hear
Hands resting on my shoulders
As your lips come closer
Reach out and touch something
Then I smell the answer to my life
Lingering memories I’ve never forgotten
Because you keep coming back
You keep calling my name
Out loud all hours of the night
Reminding me to never let go
For without your pulsating heartbeat
I have never lived a single day
Never felt my hair between your fingers
As I look toward the sky in bliss
Watching unnamed clouds float on by
I smile, infected with beauty and love
Share It, and Smile (day 755)
Have you ever had one of those mornings
Where you wake up, fresh and ready to go?
Sun greeting you with a smile
Dog with a wag of his tail…
You know, one of those mornings
When the blender blends it all
Without even one single stir
And you remember to put the lime in
Like the feeling of putting on
A fresh pair of underwear
Pulling up the favorite pants
With a very white undershirt
Or like a great hair day
When looking in the mirror
Is simply compulsive
From all angles
It’s hard to find those mornings
But when you do
When it’s within your hands
Share it, and smile