He was born young, I mean really young
His hair was curly, fluffy and beige
His skin, for milk and fire a bridge
His eyes, orbs of fiery passion
Favoured was he by Aphrodite and Adonis
He is he that is moulded by time and endless time of daydream.
Bite Size Poem no48
Bittersweet I lick my lips,
a bundle of wired nerves;
The dopamine hits my veins;
I don’t want to crash
so I’m crushing on you,
sipping that cold brew coffee;
Poison lingers like syrupy sweet mocha,
as addictive as undetectable sugar;
Taking a taste of your blueberry scone
biting back bits of blood
swallowing,
my heartbeat racing;
Maybe I’m dying or maybe I’m falling,
a razor thin slice caked with venom;
Poison lingers like syrupy sweet mocha,
as addictive as undetectable sugar;
High on espresso shots
I gaze over the rim of my mug
a victim of this crush;
Strung out on caffeine
In poison we trust;
Bittersweet, I lick my lips.
~~~~
Yawn, stretch your arms high.
You thank God for this great day.
Gratitude is why!
Warm shower, then, your robe.
You know you have hope, to cope.
Write, don't be a lazy mope!
Do not forget that sugared, steaming coffee.
Pen, paper .....then be off with thee,
12-31-2020
6:45am PST
I drool like a fool
one day a week, those donuts sweet
fresh and so pungent
11-17-2020
Yesterday is sour puss,
And tomorrow's a cloud,
So enjoy the sugared moments
Of an only today.
Last week is where is she?
And next week is all wet.
Enjoy the sugared moments
Of an only today.
Last month is dead pussy
And next year's a drag.
Enjoy the sugared moments
Of an only today.
11/9/2015
Your sweet golden,
Brown Sugared, skin
adds A little spice,
to life, Destine,
to explore the nature,
of yours, I am nurtured,
and famished, With,
constant under standing,
why you are loved, so
Baked in by declaration,
of your lips, speaking genuinely,
Above and beyond, captured,
my hunger,
in complete ness,
To never let go,
because you complete me, to
continue, As I Spill The Beans,
that pour through your words,
Among mine, to become one...
white sugared buns
parted buttered await the knife
lick the wayward blade
In any argumentation,
there's none as unanswerable
as a smug diner's opinion.
You gush about chilled champagne,
To my unschooled taste buds,
that's simply bottled, sugared rain.
And you adore sturgeon caviar.
To my unpolished palate,
that's salty clay dipped in tar.
No debate about the agendum.
No dispute in matters of taste:
De gustibus non est disputandum!
Bought a tiny watermelon
Going to cut his top right off
Then cut his round bottom
So he won't topple and doff
Going to gut him with a scoop
Eating the guts until covered red
But spit out all that black slimy poop
Tonight won't be very early to bed
On the remains drawing a scary face
It will be so grotesque not a disgrace
Sharp, razor sharp exacto knife
Stab cut out those outlines all life
Now his grotesque face shines
So brightly that almost blinds
Our Jack-o-Latern will be best beast
A spooky treat a very delicious feast
(Rhyme sorta)
Spry of step, your clover feet
green with chlorophyll oil
sugared the soul, contained, complete
bergamot imprinting soil
You are a butterfly shy of wings
tethering a cloud in your net
Immersed in the wonder that wonderful brings
you give just as much as you get
Swept of hair, eyes of blue
imprinted with languid desire
Imagining me, Imagining you
From the earth to the sky, even higher.
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