Tags

arrogance, Devil, female, male, maxi, narcissism, poem, poetry, power, pride, woman

DEVIL LOVER

I second guess myself
too much when
it comes to love-making

lack that Devil-may-care confidence
of your true devil lover

the ones
in whose arms you melt
(how can
you not in
the embrace of
such
naked narcissism ?)

whose
confidence
runs
riot
is absolute
to the point
in these matters

who free your soul, left it up high,
take it to the edge of the galaxy
then
let it fall
roller-coast backwards
fall into
renewed gravity
crushed at the edge
of some sexual singularity
hoping
to be renewed, resurrected,
redeemed again

as you life spins
like a roulette wheel
from fulfilled to
empty from
ecstasy to deprival

Oh
would I had that force
I embodied it entirely

would that strength might
shape me
leave me its
huge power

to be callous, to conquer
move away
be
true devil, demon lover
not
discarded creature

moving in painful certainty
absolutely
the other way

having failed
in the devil stakes
time
and time again

OVA

Tags

egg, female, Fibonacci, mathematical, philosophical, poem, poetry, shapes

OVA

“eggy weggs!”
Alex DeLarge
“A Clockwork Orange” (dir.
Stanley Kubrick)

suck on all
things Fibonacci

but not
Fibonacci itself
since it’s
not a carpaccio
or plate of pasta

just the mathematics that says
everything beautiful is
fertile ground
for comparison

oval to circle, now
how do those two match up?
(am I not
being too elliptical?)

and what
kind of shape
worth its salt
is oval anyway

this I think
to myself
having
minor breakfast accident
getting egg
yolk down me

and was
thinking albumen and
the shape of
your breasts

so was
quite distracted

yellow now
all down me

am
clearly
creature of
the Sun

who did offer
to bathe in its rays
somewhere in
your naked proximity

having
come full circle
around to
your way
of doing

who did offer
but for some reason declined

whose belly
swelling now like
boom economy

tell myself it be
over
all
over

but something in the poem
(something that slipped
past me)
insists there
will be more

SMELLS LIKE KURT COBAIN

Tags

Consciousness, Creativity, Desire, erotic, female, History, love, Metaphor, Muse, philosophical, poem, poetry, Sexual, Sexual innuendo, sexual symbolism, spiritual, wordplay

SMELLS LIKE KURT COBAIN

“entertain us!”
Nirvana: “Smells Like Teen Spirit”

you know
something
special
is happening

animal vegetable mineral
intellectual centripetal

comic
epic
doubly ironic

and above
(and below all)

sufficient, efficient, refulgent, indulgent
magnificent

yes,
magnificent even

when you dream deeper
go deeper

and the deeper you go
the deeper inside

the deeper that feeling
she has gone so much deeper
she so
deeply
inside you

hearts, clubs,
diamonds, spades

she, you
have not touched bottom

so much
depth to go

ORIGAMI

Tags

female, poem, poetry

ORIGAMI

can you not
just
fold her
differently

radically
untwist her?

you know she
was not
always
like this

it took a man
and sublime
masculine ignorance
to do this

to bust her and
readjust her and
totally
demonate her

because
without such
power

what can
a man do

and I beg
this restoration, who
suffered through
her every
sad transformation

flesh of
her flesh

she should
have been
stronger,
steadfast in
kindness

she got
everything wrong

but
one, two
simple touches
(no Lazarus
raising,
no 40,000
feeding)

this you
can do
this you can do

STICKS

Tags

apocalyptic, Big Bang, Consciousness, Creation, Ending, female, Fire, Humanity, Life, metapoetic, philosophical, poem, poetry, postmodern, power, sexual symbolism, time, writing

STICKS

we rubbed two
sticks together
sans Vaseline
sans
lotion

rubbed two
sticks and
went
Big Bang

went
Supernova

a giddy celebration
of delicacy and power

watching the stars
pop
into view
as
they were
created

whereupon
fast forward a thousand
to the power
of a thousand

let the cameras roll, roll,
in time for the credits

look how
far we have come

from first
smoking gun

NEXT

Tags

Consciousness, erotic, female, Metaphysical, metapoetic, poem, poetry, postmodern, Sexual, Sexual innuendo, woman, writing

NEXT

I don’t see my way clear
to finishing this poem

what you threaten
with all your
interference and
distraction

is that
the split between
the self that writes and
self that is
written

will become a rift, a cavern
unbridgeable

and what is this

you tell me this is, funny I should mention it,
your suspension bridge that

we get to cross

a magical world where
poetry can be shelved, put to the side for a moment

and I get to eat you
like a golden peach

juicy enough
to feed into my

next
next
next
next
poem

SAME

Tags

body, erotic, female, harbour, poem, poetry

SAME

I wake in the night
deprived of your nakedness

need you to secure me
guide me into
your deep
safe harbour

pilot me
to your shore

or let me
just wash adrift, happy
to go where
the current
takes me

with so
much flow

your sea is
my sea

all
one ocean
connected, same.

MAENADS

Tags

classical, female, Metaphor, mythological, poem, poetry, psychoanalytical, Repression, sublimation

MAENADS

what do Maenads do
on their day off

but
cool down

cannot go around the whole day
tearing to
shreds the whole day in
celebration of
Dionysus
(Aetna and Vesuvius
could not stand comparison
with such
steaming
and smoking)

but is that not
gold
streaming out
down South,
pouring
out
of
Africa

and so it is, Aphrodite
settles back on a chais longue
(always
go French!)
taking a
bit of a break, a holiday

so many golden girls walking the streets
the sure touch of Midas
much to do
with that making

TO DECEIVE

Tags

female, loss, love, Metaphor, Metaphysical, philosophical, poem, poetry, sexual symbolism, wordplay, writing

TO DECEIVE

wanted to
read you like
a book

but there were
missing pages,
no final chapter

so I decided
to write you
Ike a book

one in which
I am not
even a
character

and, as
sort-of-
antiheroine
your dialogue
disappoints, actions
flatter
to deceive

CURL

Tags

erotic, female, Humanity, love, meaning, philosophical, poem, poetry, wordplay, writing

CURL

was writing a
novel

or perhaps
a poem

when the paper
began to curl up
wickedly at
the corners

as it is with
your toes after
love-making

or with the Moon
tugging at the sea
spawning waves

barely more than ripples
higher than
small mountains

(sex and
poetry so
prone to
exaggeration)

or my hair, before it vanished,
curling asymmetrically

in the bald truth of the little
lives we living

great
metaphor can be