Tibetan Orbs (day 955)

While straddling my time between Christ the sugar bowl and Don, the rather small teapot
I kissed the roasting bacon nuzzling up against my clothes, a warm glove
“Ouch” said the lonely spot of a remnant hot plate as I smooth talked her into a gentle coo
From here, I could almost hear the other patrons, busily slurping their medium roast over
Minding the color swirls developing in their half and half and brew mix; mind the honey, sugar
I twisted wildly to see a maiden, one of fairer skin and lovelier smile than this twirling vinyl chair I’d been making eyes at
I couldn’t quite understand her stuffed down puff jacket obstructing her twisted cursive
As she coiled and rounded the blue ball point pen about the pages of her soft red scribbler
But my eyes were taken by her small Tibetan orbs delicately dangling from her lobes
I wondered how far she had come today, and if it meant to her as much as it meant to me
That she was also sitting by her lonesome, like I was, at a buck fifty diner, romancing wildly with Christ the sugar bowl and Don, the rather small teapot

Soul, Baby (day 950)

Cruelly crushing my soul
With those eyes;
Deep and inviting.
They’ve already taken
Large bites out,
Chewing amorously while
Licking perfectly plump lips

If you can’t handle my soul, baby,
If it urks you to look,
Like a ‘cuda lookin’ to cuddle
I’ll wrap you up and squeeze.
Cause life ain’t meant for missin’,
There ain’t two takes here, honey,
This is your last chance train

You knew before you said that
That I’m hooked, baby, hooked!
Like a marlin surfacing madly
I’m shaking all ’round
Lightening of your fire
As it comes and I submit
This is me, baby. This is me.

Oozing is my next move
I slowly inhale your soul
I will squeeze it together tightly
Watch it escaping between my fingers
Running through your darkened hair
As the day turns into night
Abandon all of what you’ve known

2013.12.12 - Leiah Luz (206 of 371)

Bits of Honey (day 762)

Reck my conscience with little bits of honey
With tenderness so thick it sticks to me like memories
And oozes down my leg in a moment of passion
Fill me with such desire only the honey bee knows
One quest on earth to direct my every worth

Make my desert storm spit fire that stings
Every single orifice of your summer nights sweat laden
Lightly tan-lined body lying before my
Eager fingertips, dancing with the curves
And flaps of silk lining at this savory hour

Turn the midnight taps on, let our sweetness
Stick together in co-mingled ecstasy
Passion fueled by opened moon-lit windows
Setting the mood for romance tonight
In sticky memories of a honey bees essence

Flower Nymphs (day 406)

Laying alone amongst the flowers
Is the only company I should need
Bees flower my conscience with honey
So thick it should root my evil
In unfounded depth of a mothers milk
Meanwhile, dumbfounded maidens
Frolic carelessly in the garden at night
Trying to escape the eye of delight
If anyone catches them they’ll let out a yelp
Like the nymphs of the wooded lands
The maidens of the garden who look about in fright
Carry me into dreams I’ve dreamt once before
Follow me into depths as I’ve crawled through the door
For now I shall rest here then
Amongst the poppies, buttercups, and paintbrushes: zen
Then I will fall away, lost in a cause
Then I shall dream again
For tomorrow always comes again

A Sun Drip (day 304)

The sun slowly drips its honey across my face
Sweating out last nights essence with tea
I hold the governance of all things unsaid
I will not bear the shame of almost was
I will not hear the un-named called on the hour
When dogs will scurry into their unmarked graves
Calling like the coyote into the night
With an uncontrollable longing for what is lost
What is gone, and what has been forgotten

The spots of glare fascinate this glossy mind
As it winds its way through the spiral of decay
Memorizing the lines of an old Hemingway poem
Like the underside of a frequently-thumbed sack
And no, there will be no last dance as the wind hits my back
There will be no sweet romance with the birds and the bees
While the clock slowly ticks it’s monotonous rhythm
However long shall thou steal away into the night?
Long forgotten whispers remain seated on the knit of my brow