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a somewhat sensual vision on Margate Street : Sunday, 11th

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      (iv) voice...
reverberating ultrasound syllables
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. 

her tongue is an aspergillum
soaking me
from head to denim
in holy water
& my once bland arid garden existence
blooms into a spring of shooting star flowers.
& lapping on her musings
                      fit for saints
dish of eucharistic supper
nourishing my spirit
quenching me in eternal devotion.

master crafted
architect lips of poetic concinnity
stroking verbiage paintings
stretching through the cyanic ceiling
with mystic whispers of stardust laced verse.


          (ii) lips...
sipping on every drop
a ship bound to be sink
        eight ball euphoria melts

curling my toes
spinning my head
dizzying high kaleidoscope haze
stretched across my minds sky

skin on my lips
the deeper i swim
the more my ravishing thirst grows
aching bones
drop free falling 
into lavender field sheets
with knocking buckled knees
& gnashing teeth


         (i) gaze...
hazelnut curled
temple curtain locks
part the face unlocked
her supernova face
shines through chocolate waves beyond

fire loop earrings
call for jumping through
whispered echoes
begging the truth

blue eyed
bullet holes
shot blind in tangerine daylight
opening minds

lips speak mumbling
stretching twister intertwined
mountain range verbiage

slouched playdough shoulders
massaged into ornaments vases
display shrine rising roses

sunflower breasts
gaze towards the sky
seeking fruit of synthesis

river mouth hips run
spilling into the ocean
dancing to Persian music
in a star gazing potion

waterfall thighs
fall in a crashing crescendo
where a canoe meets shore

gold calves
sculptured by renaissance hands
in polished marble

foundational stepping stones
by shooting star
leaping feet
off the ground of silhouetted perfection

dig my grave in that holy shadow
her gaze & her face promise sorrow
for i will never know the same heights
as that night our eyes met
in murderous poetic delight.



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Dreams of Kyanite Crystal Eyes ►


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keith jeffries

Thu 25th May 2023 09:12

I almost bathed in this poem as it drenched me from head to foot. The language is rich and rare. I was surprised at the extent of the vocabulary used. The word aspergillum and eucharistic, integral to the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass and intensity of every line was breath taking. What more can I say without being too verbose and over complimentary. A truly great piece of writing for which I thank you.

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