Short Protestations Poems

There was a young lady called Mary Lou,
She wore no nickers to make it quicker to poo,
Her parents protestations fell flat and useless their cries,
She'd reply "When eating water melon it sure as hells distracts the flies"....

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riding the crest
of a libidinal wave
unknown encounter
of an unfulfilling escapade
she is 
wants repeated protestations
of undying love abyss
 abyssum invocat
life is a journey
of hills and valleys
they say
she says
acta non verba
 i am laughing

aug 11 2016
7 pm...

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Love speaks no other language besides its own
Blind to faults of the object of desire
Deaf to subtle warnings or loud protestations
Love sees only blue skies and beauty featuring
When cupid shoots his arrow, dipped in a potion of love  
None can dissuade unless the arrow is broken!
~*~...

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What to do when I know I am no poet?
When my protestations are silenced
and my verses sink
beneath the perfume on your pillow

But the reality of your skin
and your hair falling 
across the breath of a memory
is like your fingers brushing against my heart

And then I realize
that I am art without hope
and I know I must stop evoking you
Forever

And only drown
in your presence......

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You remember in photographs, usually
And my keys, wallet, phone are not in safe places 
My mismatched socks festoon the living room 
And snuggle in next to your dishes filled with yesterday’s bones
And sometimes drifts of dog snow tumble through our kitchen 
Catching around the legs of chairs 
You the early riser, sometimes me
Either way with protestations and coffees 
In the imperfect light...

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The letters he wrote.
Words cut the pages.
The passions 
wrought molten the
forever malleable spaces
cool 
in their contrast.
The letters he wrote. He gave them no stamp

The torch that he carried.
He could turn the air blue with his protestations.
He reached for wall and floor.
He would scream, strain, 
stab his conscience
with doubts.
Yet
reticence, respect and reason left the room dark.
No candles were ever lit....

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If I would give the best to you,
you tender forth the seat of my desire,
a womanhood all wrapped in lust
and echoing my cries
that will not be contained,
yes echoes as sweet spasms
clenching, grasping
with your fabled gate
into erotic paradise--
and I still scooting on to seek
another lover's soft white thighs
to lie between...(and lie between)
my protestations of a love
to last the ages.

Such the love
that makes a paradigm of bliss
and flies
into oblivion.
            ~...

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