Tho' they may display legs to best advantage,
observing the constraints, begs the question, 'What's afoot?'
Seems to me I had a bee in my bonnet
about women's proclivities and passion
when compelled to write this pseudo-sonnet
about their footwear fashion.
Some are bonkers barmy as bedbugs, daft, dippy, daffy,
(with) bats in the belfry too,
it's far beyond my reckoning, as I can't fathom,
why they choose to wear the pairs of shoes they do.
And as for a clue, I haven't any, why they own so very many.
With their platforms, pumps, stilettos, wedges, they're tottering on
the edges of insanity, an exercise in futility,
an accident about to happen, one stumble, a tumble then... a calamity.
Seeing them hobble, while their dogs are barking,
these are the words they'd speak, if their feet could talk,
'Cinderella had the right idea, losing her glass slipper,
as oh the pains you put us through when you are wont to walk.
It's no more than torture, a total imposition,
somewhat akin to boots of the Spanish Inquisition.'
"Parallels and Platforms"
diving into the void
our hearts sound like
deep bluebells sonar driven
ringing in a new universe
humming lips caress throats
where words are born to erupt
but do not speak,
you can hear feelings
new bodies singing
fever pitch
dimensions spreading
ripples as in a calm ocean
parallels bend and meet
flexing into the smooth
spontaneous Dionysiac curves
in the out of time
warm worlds evolve
they join in luscious flexing
pulses rushing in frames
burning up naked as the Sun
massaging now tactile light
what once was deepest blues
into searing ultraviolet view
co-joined like minds
the formless fit tight
the luminous become one
exploding Supernova
platforms speak
dancing in each
other’s eyes
mirrors undress
the senseless,
sensing the fullness
of what was once flesh
now crystalline knowing
the sensual twist
intuitively
dexterous phantoms
eventually kiss
when we meet
intertwined
in the out of time
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
Woman, high-heeled shoes
balancing on daily jolts
on platforms of life
Ps.I do not know why women do not comment my poems when i mention woman in my poetry..prudery maybe, modesty.... who knows ! I love all women ! salute and peace alkas
Words_ in my garden@ the edge of thorns.
Population cultivation of shrapneled bones.
My thoughts, mine, alone.
My as she helixed the change
of elixired kool aid and iced earth,
Ayahuasca tea to drink under the crystal sun;
To be or not to be undone.
Dangled as a charm over my eyes,
walled popularity,
that rivit ring resurrection machine gun
@A rising force of risen suns,
from the sea of emptiness
@circlet chain fire testing this blue toothed,
teething proofs of brainwashing that is being done.
Cutting me tooths on techlobotomy future suturies,
filling with bad blood,
of milk undone into channels of soured diversities.
Blasphemies abreast of Bathory, Borden,
Mystopheles.
Metaspinions on bile for birth of strange aeons and late night gerd.
Storied olde.
Waking death, rebirth, federation,
mental masturbation, folly, jolly rogered
as if it depends on.
A friend, so I have heard,
fair weather turns cold.
Ongoing
discussions
upon change:
boring
dissonant
often incoherent,
disjointed,dislocated
off-the-cuff
promises.
centrepieces
of tomorrow
built with lies...
merely a means..
to
their ends
Facebook twitter tumblr
reddit soundcloud snapchat
4chan imgur instagram
youtube vimeo vine
I tip toe from one to another
on a hypertension link
a thousand different ways
to relay what you think
interspliced into instances
amidst angry avatars
creatures craving comments
sticky slithering sonnets
if that's all you ever find
no matter where you go
it's because in this digital wasteland
you reap what you sow