PYGMALION THING

Tags

Creation, Life, poem, poetry, Pygmalion, sensual erotic

PYGMALION. THING

I though I was
becoming a statue
stone and cold bronze

but with the warmth
of your heads
you brought life
out of me
life
back to me

afterwards
we laughed at
this neat role
reversal, Pygmalion
switch thing

your body like fire
but also
carved
out of marble

THE TREE GROWS

Tags

erotic, love, poem, poetry, spiritual

THE TREE GROWS

let me touch
upon this

neither as
false idol, nor
as graven image

but as
tiny
summit of
creation

thing about you
most creative

and yet most
open to
speculation

Oh fruit
most unforbidden

I eat and
eat

and between each breath
between each supreme
serpent of
a tongue-flickering
do I say
grace, give praise

I eat and as
I eat so

the
flowers blossom

the tree grows

MIRRORS

Tags

depth, Lacan, Mirror, philosophical, poem, poetry, postmodern, poststructuralist, surface, woman, wordplay, writing

MIRRORS

mirrors elongate — deepen perspective

but now
(metaphor, metonymy)
let’s think
those axes
through
carefully

to fathom what it all should mean
we need to
get beneath
the surface
not get entangled
in any nets that
trap surface swimmers

so much junk
bobbing up and down
flotsam, jetsam
need to break through them

powerful strokes me dear
and you
do have the
muscle-tone for it

your brown skin the exact
label for which luscious shade escaping me
getting me
to explore the reality that
there are
only interpretations, only perspectives

so shallow, with you
I feel
myself bottoming-out
no 20,000 leagues with you

only this moment
between us
we
only get
skin deep

but under
the circumstances that
should suffice entirely

GIFT

Tags

love, poem, poem poetry political moral, poetry, poststructuralist, sexual symbolism, spiritual, theological

GIFT

gift that we
give each other

trust Monsieur Derrida
to wrap an aporia
in with this

and me
thinking what
you are about to give
an act of
grace
special sacrament

that thing whose
mode of existence
might be open
to question
and yet which
cannot but truly
embody your essence
(prove to be nothing
if not its most faithful expression)

Oh this theology
I am up there with it
see how
in the hands
of the artist
whatever is in fact realized
all things are possible

my poem
each line a
finger and
a string

could be said
to be arrowing for you
yet never
so linear

Oh such hands
such hands

shaped for gifts
shaped for giving

everything about them
lending itself to metaphor

and so
insistent about
their service
augment the artist in
whatsoever inspiration

RED CORAL

Tags

love, Muse, philosophical, poem, poetry, sexual symbolism, writing

RED CORAL

she came to me
wearing an anklet of red coral
her hair sea-wet, like
a goddess from the Iliad
or Odyssey

everything about her seemed to rhyme
seemed in time
to some
secret rhythm, in
tune to some
sacred music
that I, or
indeed any
mere mortal,
had ever had
the pleasure
(the exquisite
pleasure
of heating
even a note or
phrase or chord before)

and though
the ocean was distant
I imagined her
riding, naked
but for her anklet,
up to my
front door

which opened freely
no needing to knock
or call
or answer questions

the anklet
blazing like fire

like blood for
a sacrament

as she
strode like a leopard
across the stone-tiled floor

SEXTONNET

Tags

form, love, poem, poetry, sexual symbolism, Sonnet, wordplay, writing

SEXONNET

I stole
your lines
made them
rhyme
but where
they did so
already
took that away

so is this thing,
this poem
yours or mine?

our voices
like our bodies
intertwined.

MUSING

Tags

Muse, philosophical, poem, poetry, sex, Sexual, Sexual innuendo, sexual symbolism, sublimation, wordplay, writing

MUSING

muse and I
were snuggled up together
needed to break away
from her
to write things down

but her grip
though soft was like
some super adhesive
her control
absolute and
need
that we be one

and the words bottling up
needing to be released
desperate to
express themselves

fearing they would
turn unsublimed, revert
to
Regular fare, necessity

feed into
this raw reality

die
be consumed
with
her touch inspirational

moving thing
other than my pen

SUSTAINABLE

Tags

erotic, love, poem, poetry, wordplay, writing

SUSTAINABLE

come
make me
sustainable

fix my
climate

alter my
weather

change
my world

for the good
best

better
better
better

so much better

so good
it just
drips and
is

drizzled
for the rest of our lives

THREE POEMS

Tags

Hemingway, Humanity, identity, JM Coetzee, philosophical, poem, poem poetry political moral, poetry, power, sexual symbolism, South African, wordplay, writing

THREE POEMS

BLEED

yes, Mr Hemingway
I bleed my way
through line after line
page
after page
chapter
after chapter

check this stanza out here
where I tell you
my heart is a big O
I am universal donor

can transfuse directly
just step
up to the pump
take your fill

each drop
being
a sacrifice

not
for self only

never
for self only

DUSKLANDER

I was thinking, talking
master-slave dialectic
but you
cut me short, stopped me
in my tracks

smothered that thought
before the words could get out
do wanton damage

and there
you had me
me the sculpture
you
sexual muse and
artist, complete Pygmalion

turned me, us
into one
living, loving sculpture
fused, welded
together

like some writhing möbius snake
no way of ascertaining
where what
starts, what
ends
where top
where bottom

which or what is who
and where
this dialectic

male, female
darkness
light
water
fire

finishes what it started
completes what it begins

MUTE

let me be mute
about your Heaven

your palace of
the dumb

your utopia
in everything
but reality only

your golden
mine dump
rising up
out of
the selfish Earth

WHAT THE WRITER IN ME TOLD ME

Tags

alone, loneliness, love, philosophical, poem, poetry, postmodern, poststructuralist, sexual symbolism, wordplay, writing

WHAT THE WRITER IN ME TOLD ME

lie here alone
(if you can believe that)

waiting for conflict
desperate for drama

splitting myself into
host of alter egos
because you
not here
to
love me
and bruise me
praise me
and abuse me

us fighting like
dog and cat
cat
and dog
(nothing like the spice
of a little role reversal)

as we
do our retrospective

post-modern
post-structural
and fully
post coital

the bliss of moment
turned metaphysical
not
lasting forever

the energy
spent
not
fed into
sublimation

but this
neither here
nor there

neither
ecstasy of body
or
rapture
of mind

transposed and
transfigured into
some
artistic
endeavor

ever
capturing its
own truth

ever
paying the rent

lie here
alone

in your
absence this
all moot

so
open to conjecture