I wasn't long in Hong Kong,
before I saw my first tai chi,
and it gave me the strangest notion,
the exercisers, advancing all in a row,
were line dancing in slow motion.
They put their left hand in,
right hand out,
in, out, in, out,
waved them all about
and, set to soothing, soulful music,
the male practitioners suggestively sang,
"If you show me your yin,
I'll show you my yang."
"At my bitter wits' end,"
was her mutter.
"Both of them?"
facetiously, I did utter.
"I'm beside myself,"
emotionally, she cried.
"A split personality,"
jokingly, I replied.
"No, I am but one,
and all tangled up I've become,"
instantly, her rebuff.
"At a loose end then?"
I questioned, off the cuff.
"Tied up in knots, more like it,"
in distress, her response.
"Prepared, like a Boy Scout, I'll be your undoing,"
I observed, feigning nonchalance,
"Give the word, and then, who knows,"
hopeful, I had half a chance,
she heard me suggestively propose.
ILLUSIONS
perspectives
energised
fragments
absorbed
silotary
intermission
of
pleasures
suggestively
frozen
in
different
&deliberate
vertical
dramatic
divisions
&demarcations
implicit
&
unsettling
mysterious
&unreal
distinctive
articulate
of
conscious
reality
encounters
of
emblematic
compositions
in
shadows
subverted
with menace
in
vestiges
of tranquillity
Photograph 3: Rain
Dancing in the rain
umbrellas twirl, not a care
Chilly rain dampened hair
Clothes cling suggestively to the skin
Under dark skies, lightning flickers
Flashes, distant rumbling echo
Dancing there in the rain
umbrellas float, not a care
Rain drums absently
Wet clothes soaked
A laughing cry
a cry of delight
Or of surprise from thunder, high
Just dancing under a dark sky
Lights from an outer car come
My neighbor,
Your wife is tempting me,
Your wife wants me to sin,
Your wife wants me to miss heaven.
My neighbor,
Your wife wears tight miniskirts,
She puts on dresses that reveal her body,
I am not made of metal, I am human.
My neighbor,
Yesterday she wore a crop top with no bra,
She walked shaking suggestively,
I cannot deny that I didn't see her nipples.
My neighbor,
Your wife is blessed and endowed well,
Her backyard is beautifully molded,
I am a bachelor, dry-starved and easily lured.
My neighbor,
Please warn your wife for me,
Tell her to dress decent and walk well,
If not so, I come from a family with a triplet-baby history.
Shall sonnets fairer be?
Surely the muse thought so:
Sweet lines arranged with care,
Sublime quatrains progress,
Suggestively move minds,
Seed expectations, then
Surprise! A couplet stuns…
A young man came from Sandy Hook
To play his fiddle for our sheer pleasure
Scottish reels and an occasional Irish folk song
From memory, for little he gladly entertained
Though enormously talented, he suffered
From a debilitating disease of mind long
Unconsidered by family, friends, teachers, all
Despite his blighted social skills and
Sometimes strange and inexplicable behavior
We did not comprehend his innermost needs
No one became acquainted with his inner child
No one reached inside his mind defiled.
We learned he discovered the Internet
Which, in time, would be his undoing.
As the story read, he was communicating
Suggestively with someone unknowingly
So, the law came and carried him off to jail
No one seemed the wiser for his immaturity.
I went to see what I could do to help
But I was much much too late to intervene
In the middle of the night he had played
A few Scottish reels and an Irish folk song
Entertained the block of the incarcerated
And in the darkness took his own life.
A full moon was staring
at me unabashedly
A stare of curiosity
midst bright luminosity
When it dipped behind
a tree, so very sultry
Winking suggestively
setting me free
Hope flooding my heart
that I'd find a true love
To share the magic
of white Cupid above
when i
first saw
you your
hair was
in a wrap
almost seeming
African in the
presentation
of yourself
was there hidden
a tumbling down
lost treasure that
i found or was she
bald but that never
phased me because
i saw her face without
make up yet made to be
simple purity of
poetry in motion
yet emotionally
i only need to
just softly speak
for how dare i
might mistak
ingly awaken
her from her
night dreams
and take her
into my day
dreams
Used carcase dealer
got a crash dummy discount
for the
covetous consumer
Pyramid chain customers
all have the
Pharaoh chariot lust
Crypto-coin tarnished souls
want a cartel vehicle
to transport
their false profit cargo
“You need a boss eighteen wheeler,”
says the
dark sunglass, shady-voice dealer
“Something catacomb big
to a-carry your
Faustian minnow bait load
I suggest a coffin-lined rig,
with a trapdoor
to cattle prod secure goad”
With a snake charmer drone,
the crafty saleswoman
viper spit rattled on and on
Raising the heat of the fever pitch,
she suggestively hissed,
“Don’t you feel that Route 66 itch
Get an added sixth gear,
and squeal hear the asphalt buckle below
The sirens, have no fear ...
blues on the take, gon be on cruise control”
“Purchase a roadkill deal, Dirt Devil eighteen wheeler —
And Judas silver grin sign
the blotted-out dotted line, ”
croons the black widow repo clad, used carcase dealer
she
bit
her lip
not
in a
bad way
but
suggestively
i put
a bit in
my mouth
being
a little
hoarse
her
pony
she sits
queenly
upon the
thrown
she was
told to
sit upon
she
doesn't
know
but sort
of has
an idea
why
she is
being
treated so
majestically
suggestively
after eating
and drinking
her fill
she now
is told that
since you
put it in
it must
come
out
Quickly
Open suggestively
Thought take accusations
Anomalies
Bench faking
Distorted trees
Open baskets
Caskets
Deeply seed
Close proportionally
Who to be
Watched washed criminally
Minded law orders
Gavel pounding heart beat
Engaging ceremonies streets
Blue red purple stories
Back lash freaks
Bullet scraping
Rimmed concrete
Who to be
Soaked tears adolescence
Skipping detention
Rattle thieves
Bees were is at straight
Con-formalities
Body counting
Recognition
Who that
Be
Lightning’s silver bullet,
Rips the hollow clouds to ribbons.
Cold September’s rain,
Soaks the steaming skin,
And calms the beating monster,
that punches through today
Like a plane crashing to ground.
Sitting on the balcony,
The clouds’ tears,
Bursting on the stone to my left.
On beautifully stormy nights,
Like this one,
She animates, revitalizes and
Breathes life’s cold cider through my veins.
The air tastes like a freshly fallen apple,
She smells of life,
Colour and blissful youth,
Like an iced pareos brushes past your cells.
But her bloodthirsty husband,
with dreadful discharge, unaimed,
disavowes her freshness,
and kills his victims,
with silver bullets,
reflecting his grimace.
Still sitting on the very same balcony,
Rushing my fingers, suggestively
Down her legs and up to her leaves,
Enjoying her whispers,
Smelling her make-up.
Come you coward,
Let us see how bright I burn.
Colliding through social circles, thrown together, combining
A commotion of emotions, now entwining, forever binding
Almost kin to craving, more than yearning, more than hunger
Scared to close her eyes so she won't miss him any longer
Lurking in the shadows, undercover in the gloom
Jaundiced eyes make an entrance, then never leave the room.
There never was another who could sleep beneath her skin
Narrowing his eyes and mind, she was never let back in
Her body lay a damaged heap beneath the barriers he built
She pleaded as he teased and played, plagued by her own guilt
Tantalized her hopes and dreams, what could and might've been
Made her feel like the persecutor, but wouldn't set her free
Suggestively, he seduced then made excuse after excuse
A hallowed day, the day she woke and declined any more abuse
He's a stranger of no use, a squatter in her sentiment
Every picture, song, a constant reminder this was never meant
Never meant to be
3rd November 2011
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