Best Penetrations Poems

Place parsed pennies, purposely upon pretty porcelain palms.
The wanderer, restrained her raised ranting wrists!
She fell to her Humpty Dumpty position,
unable to ever be put back together again...
Each of us witnessed her fall,
yet we failed to gather those colourful leaves.
I believe we could have laid them...

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Place parsed pennies, purposely upon pretty porcelain palms.
The wanderer, restrained her raised ranting wrists!
She fell to her Humpty Dumpty position,
unable to ever be put back together again...
Each of us witnessed her fall,
yet we failed to gather those colourful leaves.
I believe we could have laid them...

Continue reading...

The slabbed ceiling tiles are becoming the patio slabs of my childhood home.
I'm highly strung in more ways than one, trying to send my mind elsewhere,
but half-buried memories insert themselves, sliding in with the speculum.
Five years old, the too-close cuddling, pressing and rubbing
his p***s playing...

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Poems, prose and roses
Poets hate politicians
Poets prefer poking pens at people
P-words, power and paupers
Poets love writing about love
Tears, the sky and meadows

Poets are prostitutes
They are sex vendors
They expose their naked thoughts
To the world
They talk dirt without apology
And care less about anyone's emotions
Poets are short-tempered like...

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you race though my veins
like a manic fire truck
my eyes smodering from the engine
of your torrid passion
fire hoses squirting out my skin
let me in sweet darlin'
fling the ladder from your pounding heart
climb into my vacant mind
strip me naked and fling me
into your bubbling inferno
your liquid...

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AM I DREAMING
Momentarily, I stop and freeze 
every worldly movement and 
activity. As I consume myself 
into each one of them I ask 
myself, ‘am I dreaming?’ my 
mind moves to and fro the 
realm of imaginations and 
thoughts laboriously 
endeavoring to overhaul its 
wondrous...

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I have dug this one out of the poetry attic; composed when a teen, hence the dated references. Fellow Soupers of my age-group (60 in a few weeks- Yikes!) might enjoy it:

Friend, watch out! They're talking.
Have you heard what they're talking about?
They're not talking about...

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Lost in stealth's memories evading time's awareness and penetrations from the speed of silence
Where hollow grounds open diverge
To the beginning of the subconscious rebirth
Where moments of monuments cherished will ever collide, rebind
Thoughts crescend, emotions diminuend
Performance of originality in motion while watching the speed of diffractions
Density...

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Find me here
Within graphite words 
breathe me deeply
until the lines are blurred
let my smoke fill your lungs
I desperately want to be felt and heard
Ash rises from my bones
from my mind to your heart transferred 

my thoughts are paper thin
Yet they levitate upon my imperfections 
Two...

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Have you ever thought in silence
About relations and it's lacerations
To be on the arc of its curve
Whilst administering life's penetration

Have you ever thought in silence
What you'd do if it happened to you
Would you be like many, mm fierce
Or does controlled above see you 

Have you...

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Transmit transpire anti social copious methods of blank balled fissures of disastrous mistruths on the border of hell raiser dispatch piss filled like rats on a stinking/sinking ship, inbred senate cowardice akin to the O.K. coral what to think, desire and do do to keep...

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I
Rosemary

Peeling back the layer,
reaching into my pain.
Bleeding at the touch,
and seeping through with tears.

Relishing such agony,
I'm luscious and alive.
Writhing in ecstasy,
I await your penetrations.

Blood flows from my lips,
onto these pages.
Staining white with black,
you adore this outpouring.

Christened poetry,
and laid to rest with hate,
my children are all...

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‘WHITE COLUMN RESSURRECTION’

Even now you stand poised with memories of a corned cobbed pipe in one hand-tight gripped lapel in the other-perched against thick southern charmed columns positioned on a once so powerful veranda .

Peering across your fields at the silhouettes of a people once...

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Spirits roam from Space to Space to ascend many Places many People many things that grips the heart in time this child that never was or never will be in life to witness  the treats  or treasurers to meet and greet others called...

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Precursives In A Minor

My dear, you are dead now, and
It follows that the dead cannot speak,
But please dear woman, 
Utter however softly,
Your ghostly peep, 
For we are your survivors, 
Following soon,
As the buoy bell continues to toll,
Way out there in the dark bay.
My dearest one,...

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