Infinity the eyes behold the ocean
At a distance the sky clinches the sea
Utopia it feels..
As prodigious ships return, others start sailing off
To wander in the vast sea space,
With no foot prints left behind to trace.
Worry not O soul, and let the waves lead
Trust them, for Mortals they always guide home
Be still, and let it sail
Don't make yourself smaller
Determine: walk taller
Be a friendship adorer
A - phone your mates - caller
Don't squirrel away
All your treasures each day
Your wonderful existence
You light-up with your essence
There is love all around you
You don't see it but we do
Your spine, it should straighten
We can't bottle or patent
All this fabulous You-ness
Let's be honest it's priceless
So big shout to you, beauty
You're a loveable cutie
Not just in your reflection
It's our inside detection
That we honour and clap for
From you, couldn't ask more
Be bold and courageous
In your kindness outrageous
You are generous-gifted
As our spirits are lifted
While we breathe in your presence
With your joy effervescence
So, wherever you started
You've ended big-hearted
And your height not in inches
So impressiveness clinches
In each lovely encounter
Say "we like you" 'cos we're bound t'
SS
29th September 2023
A tugboat, a ferry, a Circle Line cruise
All chug by on the river, for me to peruse.
A breeze gently blows as the waves settle down
As I soak it all up here on my side of town.
A ‘copter flits past with propellers a ‘whirl;
A scooter glides by with a helmeted girl.
A yappy white dog trots, his owner in tow
And sitting here clinches the truth that I know:
I’d rather be out on this riverside bench
(For no vista but this will my urban soul quench)
Than be anywhere private, with similar sights
For this cityscape fills me with all that delights.
hoisted hankerings puke
nauseating vying view
lofty lust yawns
puncturing pulpy lawn
twain tainted tune
mystic melody prune
rusty riffs blush
under octave's touch
callous crescendoes' crush
smirking pitch pitches
gaunt glissando clinches
birthing sumptuous A6
tuning atmosphere tenses
malady melts music.
'20:01:30:06:18
Watching your fave
In the closest of matches
Feels like having an itch
With no way to make scratches.
You sit there on needles
And pins on your seat
Hoping that his opponent
Will suffer defeat.
The crowd starts to cheer
As the underdog inches
Much closer to winning;
They hope that he clinches.
Yet you cling to hope
With your stomach in knots.
If your fave doesn’t win
You believe you will plotz.*
The minutes tick by
And you can’t comprehend
That the match may not go
How you want it to end.
*to be overcome by strong emotion (Yiddish)
Limiting self
Limiting self in the bed, covering with blanket
I dismissed all program of that night
Business and busy became such itches
That those always ordered to keep tight, tight
Companion mind tried to understand, yes
But wisdom opened eyes, why should rest
Disturbing all case putting files in shelves
Tomorrow is uncertain in childhood taught
Get up early in the morning and run for present
Learning such piece of showcase moulding
In the corner of brain such deposits down deep
Ran whole youth life in spirit and vibrant
Now following idle ideology of mind
Put aside the easy and busy life of present
Case into the sheet of bed as weeds in stone
How far creepy thought crawled to ravage
Oof! One day's desire of lying rest in bed
Gives clinches with different millions
When eye closed and took sleep that night
God knows I cannot put long elaborate.
Rain passes through quenching the thirst of the parched dry lands.
Lightning flashes and thunder crashes as God clinches his hands.
For he has grown wreary of his creations' greed.
Turning his back on the population. Ignoring the cries during their time of need.
He can't stand to watch as we indure his punishment.
Tough love now will save many on the day of judgment.
My brother’s hand regarded not my words for, they go unheard, as the silence grows my brother’s hand clinches cold and my last words fall to the ground pooling, congealing into an unsatisfied thirst. The devils on horseback are led to the water, but never drinking, as the blackened house lies in ruin. I wonder about the tree in the forest and the forest without ears to hear and the tree never seen, but alas and alas every man. How does a machete make more noise and fire be heard on the other side of the world? It may have been bearable, but I am not alone and I know their words will never be heard for they are in my brother’s hand. 11/5/2014
She wanders through the corridors, each and everyday
carrying a single rose, for the love that's gone away
her face is muffled by a veil, that only she can hide
and her secrets all concealed, nothing to confide.
Her perfume is masked with guilt, what must she confess
of course he must have loved her, or at least loved "her" the best
She sits beside the window, the curtains tightly closed
and mumbles beneath her breath, and clinches tight the rose.
She stands to see the painting, perfect on the wall
the only man she ever loved, who never loved at all
She jerked it from its rigid hook, and turned to walk away
shards of glass and memories, to lay there on display.
She cries her self to sleep at night, and walks the halls by day
for in her heart is the part, that will never go away
bittersweet is the love song, that soured with the time
to pop the cork on love unsworn, must have felt divine.
She often curses his name, and what she had to do
why did he, think that she, would never get the clue
So now as she sits cursed, there is no turning back
only to be known, as the unbearable beauty in black.
A soft kiss to initiate the passion
Warm touches from his fingers dance around her lips,
Tempting her.
His fingers find her elongated neck.
She is hit with instant arousal.
His confident but gentle touch reaches her chest,
Tempting her yet again
Her body becomes addicted to his touch.
Deep breaths rush from her as a single finger traces down her stomach.
Her body moves sensually, pleading for more.
She knows this feeling.
The beginning of a climax, but is must be lured out of her.
Those strong fingers ease beyond her waist.
She can stop him, but there is no shown effort.
He is in a place forbidden to others.
Eyes close as her muscles tense.
She cannot restrain her soft screams.
The passion grows like a rogue wave.
Her heart rate accelerates with no signs of slowing.
The touch he gives becomes overwhelming,
The control she once had is lost.
She clinches his body as if to never let go,
And for those few intense seconds,
Euphoria.
This feeling cannot be matched and will never be forgotten.
Her eyes open softly as she lay beside him.
Satisfied-vulnerable.
She is passion,
And she is love.
You cannot match me, Kite
You lack the strength for this height.
I am a shooting star
From you I am very far
To you Grace has long gone
And for that she blesses none.
In your heart you sore
Envying me as I soar
Can Fortune be this blind,
Her oil gropes, my head to find?
No, Fortune still knows me
And she will surely fetch me.
Even the dark Chasm
Clinches fast to Fatalism
When I only pass by
And even avoid her eye.
Me back you cannot hold
My greatness is well foretold
Oh how huge a labor
This grand greatness I savor!
there's something about the way she says no.
it starts with her hands,
the way she grasps each wrist
wringing each dry as she clinches her fist.
it moves to her shoulders,
the way they roll on back,
they've sunken to the depths from falling off their high stack.
it reaches her neck,
the way it tilts to and fro,
dancing on the waves of which are to grow.
it stops at her eyes,
the way they fall to the ground,
swiftly swimming up as they begin to drown.
it leaves at her lips,
the way they quiver and know,
holding back the word formerly known as no.
it's something so simple,
and yet so detrimental,
at the hint of its song,
everything can go wrong.
but it stops at her gate.
when only beauty captivates,
there's no where to go,
there's definitely something about the way she says no.
Shes the fancy fighter;
Who won't get it through her head;
That in that world that she lives in
There's only quick or dead.
He bobs and weaves and steps back
And he'll play the rope a dope;
He bangs the body mercilessly;
Then watches as she chocks
She'll cry out don't you love me;
He says of course I do;
But you're the one who always starts;
So lets do this till it's through.
She comes out in the third;
Dancing to the beat;
He sticks and moves and clinches her;
So he can feel her body heat.
He makes her throw her hands up;
Then hooks right to the heart;
Then slips and slides around the room;
Like a painter making art.
They'll never be a winner;
And they know they'll fight again;
Getting even is the game;
but no one ever wins.
The user, the abuser;
going head to head;
Both of them will know regret;
When all they knew is dead.
Sitting in a reserved preoccupation,
Counting down the hours until the bus pulls into the station.
Consumed with an agonizing anticipation,
To once again be flooded with green fields of consumption.
The smell of a scent that is intoxicating,
The taste of sweet cream that is exhilarating.
The sight of flesh that is an art of perfection,
The sound of a voice that has lustful articulation.
Getting harder to think of nothing more,
Than seeing you come through the door.
To see you in your lingerie,
The way you move; the way you sway.
All the senses are restrained no more as my body flinches,
Gripped in your soft caressing clinches.
To have waited for that which was temporarily postponed,
Exhaustively releasing a moan.
@ Tunisia Torres
4/17/2009
I'm happy when....Christy is feeling Hardy....when Heidie buys something she
enjoys...when Jack reeds all the good comments on his work...when Ruby's Mets
win...when Patricia laughs at the movie "The Addams family Tree"...when Sandra
cruises the Hudson in her beautiful new sail boat she bought after winning the
lottery...when everybody's favorite, Sharon, "weans" her children of meaningless
goals, and they go on to great success..when Rhoda can relax with a gallon of
Galgiano liquour..when Carol's holiday turkey is roasted to the "perfect"
Brown...when Karen is no longer O'leary of any fool bothering her...when Vince
clinches a sweet Proctor and Gamble laundry suds deal...when John says Heck!
to whoever he wants...(I know,!!,...he already does!! Power to him!) when
Teressa Harrs her Pena Colada is ready...and to all my other Soup Budddies, if I
missed anyone, I am so sorry...but you aren't forgotten....and I'll make it up to you
ASAP. And I'm happy any day I produce a smile or two....
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