Wednesday, 29 November 2017

Poetry for thought

Title: Pictures

I want to send you pictures,
Disconnecting in this connected world is hard.
I want to send you pictures.

But will these pictures ever tell you those thousand words they are supposed to?
Proverbs are being questioned now.

Let's not digress.
I want to send you pictures,
Of my day, of my face, of my hips, of my skin.

And you ask me for them,
For the fleeting moments in my day.
I willingly submit to your demands.

But will these pictures ever tell you those thousand words they are supposed to?

Well, they don't tell you things like -
The flowers are blooming here and you should touch them.
The flowers are just background fillers in the picture I send you.
But you should be here looking at them,
And me looking at you.

I still want to send you pictures,
Maybe some day
The words will come back,
And pictures will scream,
And they will tell stories.

And I will be listening to you
Reliving those pictures.

Friday, 24 November 2017

Poetry for thought

Title: Lurking

You are lurking in my mind.

I should be thankful that
you are not lurking in my bed.

Deep, deep sadness.

It grips me in those moments
that you lurk into my mind.

I am so very miserable.

Your memories are making ripples
in oceans that are already wild.

Miserable desires.

Friday, 10 November 2017

Poetry for thought

Title: Of Lovers.

I miss that weight of another person on me.
When they’re kissing me, with hands searching.
With hands desperate, but mouths gentle.

Do you remember that?
That feeling of carrying another person’s weight?
Those soft creaks and moans from your body?

I can’t breathe suddenly, but you cant stop kissing either.
I miss it; the warmth, the sweat, the search.
Slowly the weight becomes nothing.

All we have left is instinct.
And with it, we go places and take holidays in our minds.
In our bodies. In our dreams after.

I really miss that instinct to spread my legs at their will.
Their slow soft kisses, leading me, teasing me.
Their rushed breaths, almost tearing my skin.

I miss that weight of another person on me.
Around me, spinning legs like they are vines.
Humming lullabies and I love yous.

I miss them all.
Desitined to dream of them all.
And of all those to come.

Wednesday, 12 July 2017

Poetry for thought

Title: Reality

I am feeling sexual today,
Also angry,
Also sad,
And mostly confused.
I want to smell your sweat,
Dripping off my forehead,
While I find that spot
Under your left breast.                           

I want to unravel this,
Erase all memory of us,
While I slowly break down
Into this pool of angry mess.
Tears well up,
Crawl through my fingertips,
While I try to find a breath
And fail.

The imagination of your left breast,

Thoughts of our tangled feet,
While I slowly wipe away the reality
Off my forehead…
Which is real?

The anger? The tears?
The sweat that appears suddenly
On my palms,
Which is real?

I hold my face in my hands,
Not just hold, but grip,
Which is real?
And I try to grab the imagination
To blend it with this sad and angry reality.

Forms merge, order becomes chaos,
Chaos becomes breathing,
Is it me? Is it you?
Chaos, calm,
Earth shattering,
And then.
The shush.

Flashes of my hands shaking,
My lips searching,
My anger brewing,
Eyes closing, sunlight burning,
Moonlight calming.

Flashes, flashes,
Lines blur,
In. out. In. out.

Stay still, maybe now we’ll know
Which is real.