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Love Koan

 

you could never forget

 

that you’d been born by yourself

 

in the heated margin

 

a nearly lost pulse

 

gripping, white knuckled

 

to existence.

 

 

 

I discovered your great wound

 

this blossom in your side

 

destroying you

 

carrying you

 

through storms

 

falling towers

 

and more

...

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love poetrypassionpoetrysinta jimenezsinta jimenez owenssinta jimenez poetrysinta jimenez writersinta owens

Crystallphone You

your  body  could 

sing

like  fine  cut  crystal

as  smooth  osseous

orbits  roam  around  moistened

rim

ring

like  china  of  bone

finger  flicked 

with  a  sonorous

tone

played 

as  seraphim  armonica

such  dewy  friction

and  studied  devotion 

music  for 

the  soul  coaxed 

with  tactile  affection

from  goblet

dipp...

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crystal.musicpassion

The Point Being

 

It is not the beaten track
eroded by the heavy boots of many
or the narrow path
that the Lord commands.
Worthy of precious little recognition
as a matter of opinion, in the scheme of things,
yet the way the menial coin in the currency of fate and fortune
landed. Head up, motionless. Certain, set in stone.
An unspoken instruction, albeit clear as day
the...

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passionpoetrysatisfaction

When I Wake...

 

When I wake in the morning, I want to embrace,
a certain great lady, with a smile on her face...
 
When I wake in the morning, my heart will express,
how I long to be with you, with my love to impress...
 
When I wake in the morning, the only riches I need,
are those you hold within you, so love can succeed...
 
When I wake in the morning, give my hand ...

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Lovepassion

The Velvet Covers

 

In the cloak of midnight's fond caress,
we'll hold so tight to share the deepest kiss,
and while passions rise within that urgent embrace,
we will surely move onwards to some further bliss,
feel our fingers make slow movements to warmly trace,
the trembling outlines of each others heating form,
and moist lips pursue their path across a face,
that they will lear...

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Lovepassion

On the Road

Just audio at the moment!

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angerbuscarcarscompassiondarkdeathdeerhaydenhomelifenightpassionpoempoetryregretrelationshiprelationshipsroadssextowntrafficurban

The Kissing Game

 

The bus stop was deserted when we dived in from the rain,
we shivered as we stood there, but had no breath left to complain,
for lips met lips in search of warmth and would not yield their gain,
those lips were very much possessed of passions we could never tame.
 
And as we blended body heat, the wind and rain were heard,
we heard it drumming on the roof, but both...

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AgeLovePassionYouth

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