Propergate

It’s all new and fresh and young,
Glistening like promise on a spring flower.
My fragile, tender silence begs you:
Do not break me for I am weak.

You, with your warm, enveloping skin,
and deep dark, dangerous eyes.
I feel my future in your gentle kiss,
Sense no goodbyes in your eyes.
You are mine.
And I jump into your pool,
sacrifice myself for just one minute more,
to be only yours.

My heart is racing to catch you,
beating so hard it might just burst,
I have an unquenchable thirst and desire
for you and us, for this, our love.
Let it rain.

For GJ 06/10/14

pic credit: unknown tumblr find, please advise if know

pic credit: unknown tumblr find, please advise if know

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Surprise Cadence

Poetry can be from the heart,
words of worth spiced with
paprika perception, pretty phrases
spiraling ideas and salad dressed ideals
to make them easier to swallow,
the bland truth easier to digest.

The mood can strike at any time,
sometimes it’s inspiration hitting hard,
your heart pounds and your pen
tries desperately to keep up with your brain.
Spelling is forgotten.
The joined up, grown up handwriting
practiced so carefully as a child is lost to scrawl.

At other times you sit and stare,
pensive, away in the clouds, thinking,
and slowly an idea forms and you write
it down precisely step by step,
then fill it out with analogies, alliteration,
(all tricks learned in English years ago)
or with cleverly thought out description.
It doesn’t cut as deep if made blunt by beauty.

You could be inspired by a teacup
or use the tools of gender, ethnicity,
being an outcast as a child, death or sunlight
and sometimes you’re inspired while running on
the beach in long, white flowing dresses,
and sometimes not. I often find I regurgitate
common themes of truth, clocks, time, death,
women, Wales, sex, love. What more is there?

Sometimes you chose a stanza or design,
rhyming couplets, freestyles, ABBA,
(though I prefer Black Sabbath myself)
often you decide your purpose, style or mood.
but oftener (you make up words)
and write feverishly about…well
you’re not sure what and stumble onto sense.
you re-read and understand
perhaps you mean that, you’re awfully clever,
or perhaps it’s just a lucky accident.

Who knows?
But one thing’s for sure, wherever you go,
whoever you become, whatever you do,
even if you haven’t written in years,
your mind will constantly be forming
pretty phrases to say
what you really mean.

The Man With The Yorkshire Blue Eyes

Through a Bizarre sequence of events
he enters my life.
Suddenly there he is with his Liverpudlian Swagger
The Man With The Yorkshire Blue Eyes.

There he stands, legs apart.
His Socialist ideals stacked atop his Cuban heels.
Trinkets, idolatry, idiosyncrasies adorn his presence.
He’s dressed to kill…your heart.

Fingers with chipped nail polish close
around my cool hand.
Urgent soft lips kiss me between the chatter
of The Man With The Yorkshire Blue Eyes.

I look at him and think
this could be just a chance of getting laid
he looks at her and thinks,
I wonder.

Stale smoke, boozy breath, the smell of sex, we make
our own scent.
Our hearts beat along to music that matters
to The Man With The Yorkshire Blue Eyes.

He whispers to me,
Let it happen, let it be.
And so, we do.

Mud Washes Off

There he is, just a man.
The distance between our bodies
small but impossible to cross.
The night is dark and cold
but the heat of something
unspoken
envelops us in
it’s charms.

Here I am, a lost girl.
I do not know how I got here.
I only know I cannot leave
his electric eyes shoot
sparks deep down inside me,
lighting
our way on the black
road ahead.

Show me your intentions
Let me first know your hand before
I reveal my cards, or fold.
This game is already
lost. We both understand.
The silence
sings with words we daren’t
yet speak.

A desire, justified
by a rare depth of connection,
begins to bridge the gap, that space
between us. Allows us to
creep closer to what we want.
Our lips
touch. Now its too late.
We kiss.

Everything I thought I
wanted melts away till all that’s left
is you, you and I, us, this kiss.
The moments reality
is huge and hard to bare.
It hurts
but it’s exciting
and ours.

We want so much more than
just this brief moment of time we
stole. But we know the clock is ticking.
We know that I must leave.
The kiss ends, the spell breaks
and I
run away, too scared to
look back.

The rain is holding off
but the tears show no such mercy.
They spill down my cheeks as I run
away from the truth and back
towards my pretty lie.
Eyes open,
heart in shreds, lips still
burning.

As I arrive home, boots splattered, I realise…
The mud will wash away but the memory will stay forever.

Cephalopod Cell

You call me your addiction,
your dangerous desire and need.
I feel you would not want me,
if you had a choice.
So I infect you with my poison,
fuel your constant urge to feed.
I sit there right beside you,
you will always hear my voice.
My touch, so cold it burns,
confuses even me.
You want me to want you,
but you wish I’d let you go.
If you could run and never look back,
I know you’d leave, I’d see.
But the awkward chains we wear
always keep us nice and slow.
No break for freedom, no grand gesture.
Just a complicated bind.
A tangle of tentacles so strong,
an inky merk so thick and full of dread.
A love so toxic we gave up our souls,
and now you give your mind.
This was the best way, the only way.
I’m devoured, forever in your head.

Zombie

There’s a hunger deep within calling me,
a voice I can’t quite hear.
My desire for something that isn’t free
is binding me to my need.

There’s a need I have that can’t be satiated,
it calls to you I know.
It tricks me because it needs to be fed,
it tells you I want you.

There’s a want in me that cannot be seen,
a lust that can’t be tamed.
It doesn’t care for truth or what has or hasn’t been.
its just starving for flesh.

Feed me.

Drowning

Poem twenty four http://napowrimo.com

Vacant, disconnected, removed.
Grief washes over you in waves
And I can but watch.
You are floating further away from me,
Barely enough strength to keep yourself going.
I reach out to catch you but
You cannot open your eyes long enough to see me.
I throw you a life raft but I miss.
I knew I would.
You’re drowning now and no one can save you.
My hope is just keeping you afloat.
Swim.

Medicated

Poem twenty three http://napowrimo.com

Constrained and bound,
Beholden,
Held at ransom.

Every decision governed,
Free will removed,
Choices stolen.

It’s ‘for the best’
‘The only way’
‘My best chance’

I’m suffocating,
Suffering,
Rejecting the truth.

And in time I breathe,
The air is clear,
The chains unwind.