Long Kiss me Poems
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1
I slow the chevy
then stop.
I turn around
and look back.
There, behind the bedroom window,
behind a lacy white curtain,
I see a figure,
a face,
a waving hand,
an old ghost
from a crinkled black and white,
arisen to meet me again,
kiss me again in this darkness,
returning to haunt
my matchboxes and combs,
the pretty Mexican girl
with the black medusa tresses;
She that licked my lips
when pressed against hers;
That is no ghost, or is it?
Let me squint these sated eyes
and double check.
I see the slicker girl of 17 years
dressed in ’69 day-glow
That’s her.
It’s not real. Never
2
Red girly fingernails
tapping the chevy seat,
always adjusting, turning
dark brown pantyhose,
and the radio,
always planning and conniving
a quick insecure glance
at a perfumed compact.
She opens her purse widely
retrieving the white slicker tube;
Then come the rituals
of lips and tongues and
sweetened spit ensuing there,
‘Hey Jude’ finding an angular perch
behind them.
3
“Is the door locked?”
Waves of Groucho
on a Magnavox console
emanating towards us
from the next room over
you and me are naked
beneath the whites
ridden in adolescent stains
squirming under the cracks
of raw unfiltered listening
to Pink Floyd smearing alive
the preposterous universe
using Moog synthesizer knives
as Janis from west Texas
sprawls on a ironing board
firmly positioned and plied
She rides the fast horse
two slippery hours ablaze
“Honey, could you turn the dial?”
4
Bill Balance slings eggs and
the Feminine Forum at 3,
riding the waxy airways
with staticky plumes
This dead disc-jockey is
breathing heavily again
into a ghostly microphone.
“Hey Alice, are you a married girl?
Do you have a nice body?
Do you have charging rhino haunches?”
5
“Come inside now.
Hide under these columns,
These stones of plastic marble,
As the world finally ends,
Finally trembles in the sinking sand.
Who knew? Right?
Joke’s on us, but honestly,
We all knew it was coming,
Hopefully later, but coming.
Who knew it would happen
Like this?“
I slow the chevy
Then stop.
Crystal Magnificent Morning
You should see LA
In the crystal magnificent morning of continuing time.
It is a magic that has to be seen to be believed,
And yet,
So few have truly seen the show.
The LA sunrise is the unknown movie,
When the eastern sun slowly rises,
And with hot rays searing the air like electric swords in battle,
Baking the Big Enchilada,
Baking those tall high rises
Like big meatloaves in a garden oven.
That’s what I see from here in the mornings,
Here in my Kasbah.
I see all you lost people out there,
Lost as lambs in the dark pastures,
I know who you are.
Don’t think I don’t know.
I know what it’s like to be insanely bored.
I know what it’s like to be depressed,
To be sad.
I know what it’s like to want to die.
I sit up here all day waiting for my girl to show up,
And I imagine
And I think
And I dream;
Dream of climbing mountains above the clouds,
Of getting through Joyce’s Ulysses all the way to the end,
Of taking Norma Jeane into my arms
And staring into her sad lost eyes
And kissing her with excruciating urgency.
These are, indeed, the dreams of a sad lost man.
Green Onions. That’s the song!
Green Onions was playing on the radio that morning.
Booker T. was her last lover…
And not I…
As she reached for the phone.
“Help me, Jack. They’ve killed me!
They have taken my clothes, and my soul.”
Indeed, I know what it’s like to want to die.
“What good is all this?
What good is all this money and fame?
A person works and strives and struggles all their life,
And what do you get in the end,
When all is said and done?
A funeral.
A 1962 funeral with all the trimmings!
It’s not worth it, Piggy, darling.
It’s just not worth it.
Please hold me in your arms.
I am afraid of the dark.
I am afraid of being alone in the darkness of my grave.
Please Piggy! Don’t let them bury me!
Now kiss me hard.
Now make love to me.
I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”
You should see LA
In the crystal magnificent morning of continuing time.
It is indeed a magic that has to be seen to be believed.
Goodnight Norma Jeane.
Good night America.
It is time for another screaming sunset.
A torn, tender leaf
In a majestic tree,
I shield myself.
I fear winds!
My glossy green
Has an autumnal layer.
I try to stay still;
But,
Once in a while,
Those dew drops
Skitter over me,
Kiss me,
Glisten me.
And as I am touched,
I flutter,
I dance,
I go glorious!
Then follows fall,
And I, in my throes and ache,
Turn ravishing red,
Charming orange.
Though the tree is bare,
I stay there.
I try to stay still;
But,
Once in a while,
A drift of breeze
Sweeps over me,
Shakes me,
Rakes me.
And as I am touched,
I flutter,
I dance,
I go glorious!
Spring is the season,
The tree is lush again.
I still shield myself;
I fear winds!
I shield
My glossy green,
Ravishing red,
Charming orange,
All under the autumnal layer.
But,
Once in a while,
Someone, somewhere,
Reaches beneath;
Like dew drops,
Or drift of breeze,
Skittering, Sweeping
Over and Over.
And as I am touched,
I flutter,
I dance,
I go glorious!
Keep on walking straight,
don't turn back and show
that obsessive look of fake passion;
nobody can own me for the wildest night
and have fun while I think
of that sweet and true woman
who has conquered me long ago;
nothing can impress me, not even a wink!
That obsessive look of fake passion
can only show a bad intention,
I may flirt, but that's as far as I go;
possessing me is not loving me,
I caught the licking of lips, but know
that my sweetness is only offered
to the one, I allow to kiss me...
can this obsession be tolerated?
Keep on walking straight,
make believe I'm invisible
and not really interested in anything;
don't whisper words that are deceiving
I'm faithful and unconquerable...
the one I love owns all I got.
I keep away from women who try
to control me, I'm not a puppet;
you can pull the strings all you want,
I remain completely unaffected by
the crazy effort you put into it...
assuming I can be controlled, but
that obsessive look of fake passion
makes you laugh at your own lie.
"I shall be telling this with a sigh"
Robert Frost, The Road Less Travelled.
I’ve wiped her tears for many years,
through pain and heartbreak, too.
I’ve held her hands and lent an ear,
so tough times she could get through.
I’ve read her stories and sung her songs,
the best a father can.
I know how much her heart has longed
for the touch of a woman.
Her mother died when she was three;
drunk drivers are a curse.
She was gone from our lives quite suddenly -
our broken hearts could not feel worse.
At fifteen years she confessed to me,
with tears rolling down her cheeks:
“I’ve never forgotten the memory
of the last words to her I did speak”
“She was walking out of our front door,
on her way to see a friend;
I said, ‘Mommy please kiss me just once more,
in case I never see you again.’
All these years she carried the guilt
that she somehow contributed to the fate;
And around her emotions a wall was built
but the sorrow and pain became too great.
“And that’s why Daddy, I never kiss you,
when out the door you go every day;
And I thought that now it was time you knew
why I have been acting this way.”
I hugged my daughter and we both did cry,
releasing emotions pent up inside;
And then I helped her wipe them dry
feeling a fatherly pride.
“That last kiss you shared with your mother,
did not send her to her grave;
In fact, I bet she could not have received any other,
better last gift than the one you gave.”
“So when you talk to her in prayer tonight,
let her know that kiss was special for you;
She would help unburden you from this fright
if it were something that she knew.”
by Joe Flach for Constance's "Give me a kiss, Mommy" contest.
Written and posted on 10/5/2011
YOU SAY IT'S NOTHING PERSONAL.
JUST THAT YOU HAVE TO GO.
YOU NEED TO GET UP EARLY.
GOT A LONG DRIVE HOME.
YOU ASK ME WHAT'S MY PROBLEM?
YOU ASK WHATS WRONG WITH ME.
THOUGHT WE HAD AN UNDERSTANDING.
DON'T TAKE IT PERSONALLY.
YOU ONLY CALL ME WHEN YOU'RE LONELY.
OR WHEN YOU'RE CLOSE TO TOWN.
OR WHEN YOU'VE GOT SOME TIME TO KILL.
YOU'LL SEE IF I'M AROUND.
YOU'LL KISS ME SOFT AND GENTLE.
LIKE I'M THE ONLY ONE.
TOUCH MY SOUL MY BODY.
THEN SAY SEE YA IT'S BEEN FUN.
YOU TELL ME YOU'RE SO BUSY.
THAT YOU'LL TEXT ME WHEN YOU'RE FREE.
GOT TOO MUCH ON YOUR PLATE RIGHT NOW.
DON'T TAKE IT PERSONALLY.
WELL I'M THROUGH WITH BEING USED BY YOU.
I'VE WASTED ALL THIS TIME.
I'M TAKING BACK MY SELF RESPECT.
MY HEART MY SOUL MY MIND.
I'D RATHER BE ALONE THAN JUST A TOY TO PLAY
DONE PINING FOR YOU EVERY NIGHT
LONGING EVERY DAY.
SO FROM NOW ON I'M UNAVAILABLE.
HAVE OTHER THINGS TO DO.
WON'T EVER GET A HOLD OF ME.
DON'T TEXT ME I'LL TEXT YOU.
I'M SEARCHING FOR A NEW MAN
WHO'LL WANT NO ONE BUT ME.
GO SCREW YOURSELF. IT'S OVER.
DON'T TAKE IT PERSONALLY.
.
The wind, ruthlessly, has long been scattering gold through the streets.
Tons and tons of gold.
The air, your hands, and your lips smell like roasted chestnuts.
The wind, ruthlessly, has long been blowing gold through the streets.
Tons and tons of gold.
The air, your hands, and your lips smell like roasted chestnuts.
Of shops' windows bigs autumn discounts,
See these shoes -80%
Buy me something?
Please! Please!
Some little thing.
I will if you kiss me.
She kissed me gently.
I love you.
My choice?
Yes!
I bought her a rattling toy.
She laughed and cried at the same time.
You have lipstick on your face!
He, he!
Autumn still gilded the streets of the city.
She was happy.
From the catastrophic calamity they could not hide
Frantically facing the fear of a fiery death,
they cling together until their final breath.
Arm in arm; heart against heart...
despite the impending tragedy,
determined never to be torn apart.
Love kept them side by side
Bodies stripped of flesh and still they clung
in passion bound, to flames they had succumbed
Emotions run deep as I feel their suffering
and agonizing pain that accompanied the couple
who could not refrain from devotion, even near death
embracing each other in their last moment together
while being robbed of one more breath.
As smoke darked the sanguine sky,
it was inevitable they were about to die
I imagined hearing her whisper...
"Hold me in your arms so I cannot see
death in the darkness as it approaches us
as if it were night instead of day.
Kiss me when the sun sleeps."
Helpless to end her weeping,
he swept her into his arms as hot embers
rained down upon their bodies.
He held her tighter to his chest and cried,
"Keep your fingers around my soul
and know that our love will never grow old."
Painted as if lost in a nightmarish horror,
they remained until the end of their existence
insistent on holding each other tight
but helpless to offer resistance...
until death claimed them for its own
There was no pyramid to be found
where they'd be safe from the profound hell
that rained down around them.
Their only peace was that in each other's arms
they would meet death together... entwined
Centuries later, they would be found,
limbs wound together in a profound way.
Like the ancient Pompeiian volcanic disaster
where once lived a civilization of glory,
that perished to death amid smoldering lava,
bodies burned and buried in windswept ashes...
Escape was also impossible in that calamitous story.
It's near midnight, whilst we moonlight walk
Palm tree lined fairway, Crickets singing
Hands clenched in loving vacationed talk
Hearts in wanting pound, Batangas is bringing
We, she and I, now amidst our intending lock
Serenity is the scene blessed by lunar watch
So late, but joyous we, soon our lips are speaking
Clouds now hover as we witness natures rain
Our apartment is distant, we welcome given
Through broken lunar light, stroking her mane
My hands in taken then, sensuously they're driven
Kiss me quiet is whispered, hearts now in reign
Walking, slowly walking, absorbing to us this night
Hearts in touching pound, Batangas has brought
.
They sea me without.
I carry a raven upon my shoulder,
A sundial on my back.
The hat I wear is made of ash;
Sunlight is what I lack.
I drag my feet behind me on sandy beaches.
The ball and chain my ankle bracelet bling.
‘If only…’ is a wish, a fantasy; it’s incomplete.
I never made it big.
There is a line of memories behind me in the sand;
It shows the places I have seen.
It is my reason;
The reason I understand;
The reason I understand why you do not understand me.
It curves around, beyond the boulders
And on through rows of palm trees.
This dream I have, I have always carried;
It has always been with me.
I leave my burdens at the door,
But desire is a flame that still burns eternal.
It lights up my face, when I see her face,
But inside I remain forever nocturnal.
I walk in foreign footsteps,
No guide or friend in tow.
I cross the sea of peace, love and empathy forever,
Alone in my sinking boat.
I carry only what I need to make it to the end of the sea.
The cannon ball attached to my feet,
Is expanding more than I would like it to be.
It grows with each passing full moon,
The only time I can be seen.
I hide behind a smile sometimes,
Before it rows away from me.
I have a conversation, with a man who sells only ale;
His face is full of redness and joy!
My face is always pale.
I take a sip of this rotgut and begin to waste away from the inside.
I sometimes hear a hearty tune and sing!
While all the time,
Inside, I die…
The noise is intoxicating;
The words they speak are so enchanting.
Sooner or later it becomes closing time
And I am left walking away from the dancing.
The maiden’s flutter their eyes,
I haven’t shaved in several weeks.
My life is worn away by the sun, my clothes torn asunder.
They flirt and kiss me on the cheek
But there is no more thunder.
They ask if I would like to join them,
On their midnight adventure.
I have no words, I promise to return,
But they never get a real answer.
They cannot readily see the hole in my soul;
Oh what a charmed life I live.
I try to laugh, so tip my hat…
…a pirate’s life for me.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.