They do not ask permission
to burn.
They scatter themselves across the black
like secrets no one could keep,
like laughter that escaped the mouth of the universe
before it knew what it was.
Some are already gone—
their light only a letter
still traveling through the dark,
addressed to no one,
yet opened by everyone
who dares to look up.
They are not lanterns,
not guides,
not even wishes waiting to be claimed.
They are reminders
that distance can still be intimate,
that brilliance can outlive its body,
that silence can roar
if you are patient enough to listen.
And when you stand beneath them,
neck bent,
breath caught,
you realize—
the stars are not above you.
They are inside you,
burning,
refusing to be forgotten.
Why do I have to choose between a pill for my sanity and my sexual desire?
I don’t want to feel ashamed for going weeks or months with no desire.
I want to be affectionate.
I want to be intimate.
I want to want.
Catch-22
If I say I love you
I’m too possessive.
If I fail to say I love you
I’m not romantic enough.
If I work twelve-hour days
I don’t spend enough time with you.
If I only work four-hour days
I don’t show enough ambition.
If I discipline the children
I’m too harsh.
If I don’t discipline the children
I’m too lax.
If I suggest we go on a date
I’m to frivolous.
If I suggest we just stay at home
I’m too cheap.
If I want to be intimate
I’m oversexed.
If I’m not in the mood
I’m not a good lover.
If I want to be spur of the moment
I’m too impulsive.
If I want to plan
I’m too overly cautious.
I can’t win for losing.
I’m in a catch-22.
Oblivious to love’s heat,
mind was unable to tweet
scents that pervaded the air,
seeking a lifelong affair.
Save in silence, we are bound
to dark desires that confound
but if we’re still, voids soon fill,
making swift ascent uphill.
Knowing we’ll return to dust,
to what avail’s savage lust,
denying us love’s embrace
and benedictions of grace?
May each breath be intimate,
wherein polarities mate,
that as bliss rapture heightens,
our soul’s auric field brightens.
Aligned with the cosmic hum,
we’ll feel God’s magnetism strum
thirty three notes on our spine,
making us on earth divine.
Being by thought forms decoyed,
bigots notice not the void,
falling to ego stalking,
they’re like a dead man walking.
ACCEPTANCE
I am a tower of ice
clear and cold
standing tall
yet the day is warm
it is very difficult to reconcile
but that is my one challenge
to you
and to anyone
here on this deserted beach
looking at a disinterested blue lake
on this silent day
yet the far horizon seems to never care
on how was I formed
or became like this
is it time that I melted
none can answer these questions
yet now will I remain frozen for all time
or perhaps I might let the pleasant warmth win
and finally be accepted in this world
can logic be intimate with emotion
Fortunate is the one
who reaches the climax
in ecstasy and
can absorb nourishment
from the Milk Way,
powerful cosmic juice...
The one who reaches
to be intimate of the stars
in poetical colloquy...!
Ray Charles on a lonely night
Feel it mostly in his fingertips.
He play in every shade of blue.
His touch be intimate and true.
Ray Charles on a lonely night
Come to Harlem like a fool for you.
He lightly tease his baby grand,
And mess around with loving hand.
Ray Charles on a lonely night
Must have Georgia on his dirty mind.
With unchained heart he hit the road,
To end up busted a la mode.
Ray Charles on a lonely night
Had a problem singing, What’d I Say.
He made the call to ill response,
And music critics’ nonchalance.
Ray Charles on a lonely night,
One mint julep doesn’t ease the sting.
America, it sheds its grace
On those who know and keep their place.
Ray Charles on a lonely night
Play a solo act with no Raelettes.
He can’t stop loving someone when
It’s always cryin’ time again.
Ray Charles on a lonely night
Would often say, Let’s go get stoned,
And seven Spanish angels be
The birds who keep Ray company.
Ray Charles on a lonely night;
Like Johnny Cash at Folsom,
But maybe even more so.
Tell me what’d I say…
To us as poets
the almost impossible missions...
Not just counting the grains of sand,
as well as sewing them one by one...
Not only to be intimate, but
paint the face of the Lord...
Be aware of the dreams of the winds
and transform it our private birds..
Train other clay birds
and order them fly our routes...
Also, recite our verses...
To the sea, not only supply it
with our rainy tears,
as well to shelter it from the pirates...
Not just mending the sins of the world,
but to teach it How to pray for us...!
Only a poet can be thus
so impossible...!
To us as poets
the almost impossible missions...
Not just counting the grains of sand,
as well as sewing them one by one...
Not only to be intimate, but
paint the face of the Lord...
Be aware of the dreams of the winds
and transform it our private birds..
Train other clay birds
and order them fly our routes...
Also, recite our verses...
To the sea, not only supply it
with our rainy tears,
as well to shelter it from the pirates...
Not just mending the sins of the world,
but to teach it How to pray for us...!
Only a poet can be thus
so impossible...!
Gently and softly, you tease me that way-
Resonating chills down my spine lead to
Enchanted fields where we become one.
Attraction becoming an ineffable distraction,
Taking me higher as we make our great escape.
Eternal haven where we can be intimate,
Soft sentiments of silk seem to shine-
Crepuscular nights of splendor with thee,
Awaiting the touch you crave from me.
Perpetual truth that my affection wears
Ethereal wings (flying to you forever)
~
January 8, 2020
Great Escape Poetry Contest
John Hamilton
I wish we could be intimate
Like how you be with your smartphone
Be the first thing you check when you wake
Be the urge that makes you check on me every moment
Be that first expected morning text
Be firm at your grasp and teased by your fingers
And respond to your thumbing
The feeling that shakes, vibrates and turns me on
I wish we could be intimate like how you be with your smartphone
My son listen to me
You are deceived because
You chosed to be deceived
The fall of women is their
Ears and their emotions
My son listen to me
You are a man and will
Fall because of your eyes
And your inability to control and
Rule over your wills
My son teach your daughters
To know that beauty is
In the character and
What makes a man is not strength
For it fades as beauty does
The beauty of men is in their
Commitment
My son listen to me
You are different because
The trauma's of life have
Seen you yet you scale through
Like warriors of Texas
Be intimate to your commitment
The you will come to know that
Ageing is closer to all like the future
Understanding court me,
be intimate with me,
Tell me sweet something,
and play with my emotion's.
Penetrate my thought's that they may conceive,
giving birth to something greater that's not naive.
Lock my ignorance away,
let it feel the helplessness of not having sight;
Let it be chained, and fed only the silence
having no love, no warmth;
Take away the touch, the kiss of it's true love,
Force it to sign the divorce papers and let reality hit,
there's no one there to drive the cold away.
Are you willing to let me fall?
To look me straight in the eye as i crawl?
We were lover's by chance,
I gave myself fully to you
and selfishly you drew me, got me addicted to your touch,
but as quickly as it came it was gone
Because you let ignorance separate us,
Nullifying our love affair.
Understanding court me again,
Tell me sweet anything,
Let the defeaning silence shatter,
that my ignorance may flee.
L. Ngema
If you have it in your heart to love yourself,
I am likely to love you (given a chance).
If not to the heights and the depths then
Perhaps still to the width of your soul.
I do not say that I excel under pressure,
Or that, at night, the stars consume my breath,
More that width is my forte, that girth,
That mirth is something I can put my arms around.
And if you have ever loved the fog that both can hide,
And yet embrace all your disparate parts,
I might be a man with whom you could be intimate.
But how, on God's green earth, could an honest man
Ever claim to love, to desire, just one woman alone.
Horsefeathers, I say and then say again! Horsefeathers!
Brian Johnston
January 5, 2018
Don't be late
To be intimate
In fond eyes
Beauty and truth sigh
In love's heart
Lovers never part
In such times
Share your deeper chimes
In sure fate
Lovers are not late
In warm glow
You know how love shows
Don't be late
Love always cascades
Leon Enriquez
11 July 2017
Singapore
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