Languid Melting

Languid Melting

Life was meant to be lived in slow motion

one taste at a time

tip of your tongue

melting slowly down your throat

the bright taste of a grape split open

the warm taste of thick gooey honey

sipped and Savored

Life was meant to be lived in slow motion

one smell at a time

sensory tingling

tantalizing smells of carnal earth

molten smells of emotion soaked wanderlust

breathed in and captured

Life was meant to be lived in slow motion

one sight at a time

passion awakening

need calling colors of painted sunset

gaze drawing sensual body lines

pleasured and held

Life was meant to be lived in slow motion

one sound at a time

ache inducing

erotic voiceless ripples of desire

waves of joyful life confirmation

attentive and grasped

Life was meant to be lived in slow motion

one touch at a time

tangible agony

languid strokes of perfect motion

blazing flicks of heat and wanting

Cataclysmic finale.

Never rush ecstasy.

Life was meant to be lived in slow motion.

Molecules

Molecules
Written for Prof.Daniels creative writing class. This is one of the only poems I have ever done heavy research for and the process and content, while new to me, were ever fascinating. It is based loosely around a lecture from an Prof.Stevens abnormal psych class. 

I breathe in Michelangelo’s breath

take into myself all that remains of him,

oxygen molecules forever drifting over the planet,

drifting into me.

Is that where I got this gift, this curse?

Oh but Michelangelo,

your brush did it justice, my words fall flat

and kneel before you on the floor

of the most beautiful chapel in the world,

just one among so many masterpieces.

I see you there at the end of my bed,

you and your beautiful bipolar brain.

I breathe in Leonardo’s breath,

take into myself all that remains of him,

oxygen molecules forever drifting over the planet,

drifting into me.

Is that where I got this curse, this gift?

Oh but Leonardo,

your pen did it justice, my words fall flat

and kneel before you under your ornithopter

and your incomprehensible understanding of the universe.

I see you there at the end of my bed,

you and your beautiful bipolar brain.

I breathe in Donatello’s breath

take into myself all that remains of him,

oxygen molecules forever drifting over the planet,

drifting into me.

Is that where I got this gift, this curse?

Oh but Donatello,

your hands did it justice, my words fall flat

and kneel beside goliath

under your victorious David.

I see you there at the end of my bed,

you and your beautiful bipolar brain.

I breathe in Raphael’s breath,

take into myself all that remains of him,

oxygen molecules forever drifting over the planet,

drifting into me.

Is that where I got this curse, this gift?

Oh but Raphael

your strokes did it justice, my words fall flat

and kneel in The school of Athens

where I will study philosophy.

I see you there at the end of my bed,

you and your beautiful bipolar brain.

I breathe them out again,

perhaps they travel on to be part of the next unfathomable creation

dreamt up in some beautiful bipolar brain.

Dandelion Marriage

Dandelion Marriage

Being married to you

is like trying to keep

dandelion seeds

from blowing away

in a strong wind.

The slightest breeze

Sends them flying off

In every direction,

Leaving you no time

To even make a wish,

And frustrated that they

Might reseed

And torture some

Other mans life.

Oxygenless

Oxygenless

This breath struggles to understand

why I am demanding it’s presence.

This breath resists my insistence

that we remain inseparable.

This breath rebels against my command

to fill my body with another moment.

This breath defies my exhortation

to grant me the next insurgent breath.

These dissident breaths

that threaten to overthrow the hierarchy of command.

Breaths that mutiny against me

racing lightning fast, oxygenless,

disobeying every edict.

I am at their mercy, writhing,

desperately grasping for the control

that is slipping away.

Sorrow

Sorrow

Fat cold drops of rain

Under their weight gentle leaves

Mis’rably shiver

Tell Your Love Story

Tell your Love Story

For Janessa

“It feels so good to tell that.

I can never tell my love story,

It’s not the kind of story people tell.”

Tell my love story.

I was lost, he found me

in a park,

in a restaurant,

in a subway,

in a bar,

in a crack house,

in a jail cell,

in a dance hall,

in a band room,

in a mess in my head,

in the brightest space I’ve ever known

in the darkest place I’ve ever been.

I was empty, she filled me

with laughter,

with hope,

with fear,

with strength,

with weakness,

with courage,

with need,

with desire,

with restraint for things that would hurt me

with joyful abandon for the things that give me wings.

I was broken, he was too

together we fought devastation,

embraced dedication

eradicated desolation

we became whole

and chose a new destination.

I was waiting, she was too

even if we didn’t know what we were waiting for.

I was ready, he was too,

even if we didn’t know what we were ready for.

Everything about our love story hurt, hurts.

Everything about our love story healed, heals.

When I tell my love story it makes me

laugh

cry.

I am nervous

shy

afraid

relieved

overjoyed.

I am always afraid that other people won’t understand my love story.

I think most people are afraid that other people won’t understand their love stories.

Love is a beautiful

powerful

lifesaving

lifechanging

mindaltering

experience.

Tell your love story.

It’s beautiful.

They all are.