This has not lost the love
That faces each dawn
Of pre-existing metamorphisis,
It calms each mind
And inflates the salt
So that each lick tastes
As cunning as an advance should taste.
Each realm of unforseen
Crackles in the evening fire
As weapons of speech
Flicker off the far wall
Of the darkening cavernous region
From whence they have come,
Waiting for the moonscape
To return to the land
Tag: lick
My Salt (day 2911)
My salt has worn off by the tongue of your frequent lick
Pressed against my open window
I have cleaned my worn out gloves
Taken my inner barrier
And longed for another song
To take me half way to there
So I could spend my time alone
Preparing for your energy
Like I would a Mountain Lion come to feast.
Healing Song (day 2501)
I played along a pathway
That led me to a gate
Two dogs awaited for my step
Took me far away
I stood upon a lookout perch
Vista in front of me
Here I fell into reverie
Lost in a sea of thought.
Pains that touched me
Held my hand
Cried at me in vain
Smoked me down atop that perch
Led me to my spot
For which I had been looking for
For which I had to stop.
My two dogs heard me
Which took me away again
They licked at the new wounds
I hadnt properly healed
They said to me that all in time
I’d learn to caress again
So there I lay upon the clay
One hand before my very heart
Singing the song I had to start.
My Poem for You (day 1552)
My poem for you:
I lay with my hands held tight, pretending the story hasn’t been written. I make flasks of mine own elixir that I spill onto your skin so I can lick it up, drop by drop. I run my eyes into a dizzy frenzy knowing the confines of your nape as I do, remembering the past moments as I do, holding the abound bits of magical love between my thighs so tight I know the feeling of urge so deep I gasp uncontrolled at last. Then, upon my calmed finger I begin to gently prowl the exposed portions of your skin so I can know again the feeling of indulge.
Get Out (day 1056)
I’m the rock
– Chief –
The Chief hip hop
Let be. Be
The 1-2-3
A hibby-hibby
The riggy rig real.
You. Don’t. Get.
You don’t get on.
The game, the play,
A blind Laid-ay.
Stippin, steppin
The nasty flip flop.
Cause I take,
A la boog.
Boogity wuug
Boogity wuug
Boogity shug wuug
LICK
Cause I’m the Chief.
The Master.
The rock-and-roll
Lock.
My lady,
– Get low –
My laid-ay says so.
And if you don’t,
You wont.
So take your talk,
And. Get. Out.