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"Samsara in the 5th"



The phenomenal world
is illusory, it calls for 
nothing of substance
romance is laid out
legs and hearts spread
open like a catalogue 
touched through the 
remittance of words
clicking like 
manolo blahniks
across a warm keyboard
cool slender fingers become
long legs that wrap around 
a mind the other side
of purgatory playing
sensuously like a tom cat purring
around the sultry pipes
of milky cream coloured
skin wanting a velvet tongue 
to lick the knife that bleeds 
life and sweet seductions
in this case, one could
counter arms across
the kitchen table
red circling
her hieroglyphs,
the dream catcher,
errors wanton and brave
not for erasing
the musky sweetness
of a fantasy fabricated
and kissed with the silence 
of tongues licking fingers
and flicking pages nonchalantly
through the glossy 
artifice of celluloid dreams
under covers, the satin pink shining, 
for it has a mind of its own
and it knows what it is
and the needs hungry and wanting, 
it opens fire, AK47 no less
at a barreled chest
pushed in an envelope
across a world that’s 
now welcoming
and sorely missed
as if it all can be deciphered, this
mystery decoded
at long distance, repeats the 
invitation to a tryst
ebony ribbons of hair 
around strict rulers
two bucking kismet 
slipping halos 
under the hot delta waves
her sea parts tumultuous 
calling in passion 
heads are held fast
between palms being read
in a riot of emotion 
a slow tempest grows 
into a searing moist melting monsoon 
and both tornadoes crowned 
are caught, in his dream 
he locks his guns 
around a waist let loose
the story comes
undone bent over 
fast and hard jaded eyes 
that scream green jets
holding holy communion 
and power over storm clouds 
the metaphoric 
blue meteors 
reign over her
pinning her smile 
with a deep exploratory
rainy day virtual kiss;
She met her lover 
in the deserted 
silence of the 
Upanishads 
There she found 
him holding a throbbing
soliloquy and hiding 
happenstance smiling at 
serendipty in his truth, 
the naked soul uncovered, 
now the treasure
of what it truly is
seeking solace
through the fire
approaching the Winter solstice event
the compass twirls like 
a whirling dervish, it 
doesn't stop, it has 
slipped within the in-between
like some strange equinox sliding 
over shadows in a Dali Dream
They met 
in the Bardo where they
shed their skins
their souls made love
in the silent time 
between the blankets
of Alpha and Theta 
she came 
awake
through him, 
closing doors
to that place
best left behind 
in a forgotten time
Samsara in the 5th

(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
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