a somewhat sensual vision on Margate Street : Sunday, 11th
(iv) voice...
reverberating ultrasound syllables
moans...
her breath
ALL wax lyrical from her gold frond tongue
dripping maple syrup rhythm
all over
& through me
gold rush pulsing in my veins
to the tune of a hypnotic narcotic.
intoxication.
her tongue is an aspergillum
soaking me
from head to denim
in holy water
& my once bland arid gard...
Thursday 25th May 2023 2:56 am
Buried Within…
The invisible truth and
The voiceless words
Both are pertinent …still today
There was no escape route
Nor there will be one any day
Still I’m with your memories
Maybe not so memorable
Like the penned down words
Of the love poems
Or like the melancholic lovers
With the old photographs
Torn, yet not faded out completely
Mine was not so with...
Tuesday 28th February 2023 3:17 pm
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