PUSSY 9


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    never-ending quest
    for higher learning
    within yearning
    waiting,
    wait.
      Silent, clam
      listen.
      eager to-
      be- somebody-
      someone- else.
        wait.  Silent. Calm.
        Question later-
        live now.
        live always
             jump and believe you can-
             fly.  Know you can.
             Find peace in nothingness
             a simple sound
                         pity the intellects who see
                         complexities
                         drift to dreams
                         with those who walk the tightrope
                             and fall to the ground
                             only to bing rubber bounce
                             high- fly- into the blue-
                             sprung lacking wings, shivering hope-
                             death? non-existant.
                             fear? long forgotten
                                 a new life, a new day-

         forget crimson bloodshed
         remember the pussy of 9.

          If only a tear so gentle could fall
          down a momentarily miserable cheek
          in mid-state depression
          glimmering rocks insanity sprawling
          in the love that twists the mind
          moist droplets drip down
          listen to them hit solid ground
          follow noises, pitter-patter
          a rainbow follows, be patient.

                                                      
Understanding white-
      There is nothing.

(But) it is not nothingness.
clear, blank, aware.
differently the same.
Each breathing being
has the white-
the emptiness.

Snow flakes fly
like eagles on a mission
to find peace in feathers
of a color so plain
but not a color at all.
Do you-
see the white skin? Alabaster white?
I see no white skins nor black flesh.

the skin, smiles and frowns I see are
dark, light and in-between
(but all the same)

               Maybe chocolate
               dark chocolate,
               milk chocolate
               jelly beans
               and deluxe cremes
                               the matters of the crunch
                               there is no black or white.
                               Miss bleached superficiality
                               went to the tanning salon
                               before the final coating.
    Eyes behold intense coloration
    not black. not white.
the rainbow of life
the difference
in all that is the same.
                  (all that is the same)

As I hold you in my arms
whisper stories of faux past 
love making in your ear
exaggerating the "sssss"
send chills promptly down your spine
grasp your body tightly
suck gently, mouth tasting
your world, skin, smooth-
Baby blues hidden under
blindfold, each hand cuffed to bed
alone for the weekend: your house-
your bed, your love, your life�
my erotic improvisation
taught by instinct
following your heart
beat- boom- beat
listening in-between tender hills
nails clench skin tightly
pleasing you, a silent goal
you fly high in the moonlight
convulsing with fulfillment
and I win this sick game of human nature
we fall, (not so asleep) you want more-
I give you more.
Into the dawn we dance
kiss after kiss
and the sun rises on your silk
then eyes shut,
hands are released
and genuine relaxation
in the arms of one loved
takes hold of what once was
known as reality.

A dark location
your fingers drenched
searching for sites of arousal
and I told you I loved you
because I�ve never felt the same
before or after, 
I can�t speak for tomorrow-
now- I feel your love and it echoes inside
your hands touch everywhere
I kiss you with my mind,
my soul, my heart-
I do love you, 
and tears fall
when I audibly confess
in the darkness
soaking your soft skin
as I lean in for another kiss.

Another year at an end
as I stare out into the deep blue sky
through my half available window view
while reposing on my pliable mattress
silently thinking about how quickly time has passed
how in 365 more days I�d probably be lying there again
except it would be all over and all at a start.
Innocence and surreal musings lead my adolescent flight of fancy
I�m shot down by this reality flooding my picture
as the broken shades on my windows creep ever so slowly down-
my view will soon only include the darks of the trees in the back
but it doesn�t matter anyway, because I don�t need to see the sky to know it�s there-
before I never saw my future clearly.
I only gazed at my lilac wallpaper so closely it began to shake
now I�m covering my walls with images of the world
people, eyes staring down onto my bed-
and the wallpaper is peeling-
I see the dull yellow ochre tones underneath
and I choose not to stare at the decorticating youth
eyes glance onward, heart remains spiraling
but I have no choice-
the time is nearing when I must attempt to flutter
amidst those who possess the finest gold plated wings-

A little poem will keep me satisfied
you hold my hand, I�ll look the other way
Do I care if we can�t communicate?
Does it matter that when I�m with you my smile seems to fail
unless of course you giggle or squint your eyes and dimples form
(I guess I smile often enough)-
but still, I miss- what I never knew
being able to talk to you like I�ve spoken to others
just as friends, on whatever-
but we just write- poetry- words- 
in our little notebooks and letters
(communication is the key to a successful relationship)-
our key tends to be flattened.
How can we get this to work?
Words fail us- everyone else can just- verbalize-
and we just stare into each others eyes
with such comfort and tranquility
but I wouldn�t mind some conversation.
Long talks from across the table
or walking down the street 
as your long strawberry hair gallops in the wind-
we could talk about anything. 
But instead we find nothing-
but an odd silence as our hands hold each other tight-
our eyes gradually glance opposite.

Today I want your body.  Tomorrow I want to indulge in your aftertaste.
Don�t think about this moment: it�s in our hands, lets take it and sculpt it
into heaven.  Close your eyes and I�ll close mine.  Imagine nothing between
us.  Remember when we were children, when we acted completely by instinct,
when we danced around as if no one was watching- and if we knew they were
then we enjoyed the audience.  Let them all watch us make love, here.  Let
them all talk about our passions, dear.  Tell me why you don�t want me and I
�ll leave you alone, but if you do then I can�t stop loving you.  Your eyes,
your hands, your smile, your sweet cotton candy aura that fills the air
around you will never be away from my thoughts.  Can�t you understand my
obsession?  Is it my only true that I have to feel, to breathe?  Just do
what you want to me, tell me about your wildest fantasizes, cover my eyes
with smooth finger flesh and play me like a game of operation- swallow me
like an ice cream float melting into puddles of caffeinated liquid under our
feet, tingling between our toes--   Hold me down when I�m ready to explode,
tie me around and rub  your fingertips across my spine.  Tease me, make me
want you more and more and more.  Listen to the music in deep infatuation
and dance along my icy heart.  Walk into fields of heated flowers
barefoot-with skies of silver coal hung over our heads, falling down onto
our backs like blazing hail in a summers storm.  Let the clouds slowly drift
across your bosom, so light the touch of one is more than you seem to be
able to handle for you find yourself ready to reveal in the bliss of the
passion we�ve created.  No rules here.  No games.  Child�s play for grown
ups.  Looking at me  you see who?  But you would like to hold me, just as I
wish to hold you?  You�ve thought it so many times.  Your eyes which cannot
look into mine without a glimmer of questioning the ballets of love that
might be tell so much.  You look away but I know somewhere you stare
directly into me, wishing to wrap me in tight arms in the darkness on a cool
floor- hiding from everything that we know that�s right.  And my hands would
gently twirl your soft brunette coils of hair always flowing down your back.
Your dark eyes would finally honestly stare deep into mine and tell stories
that would even corrupt the most polluted of minds.  A creative lust you
have such as I.   Chains, whips, handcuffs or just you and me-our bodies
pressed together so close,  you kissing me with every last craving left in
your petite yet strong and independent figure- letting your lips nibble
around my world without any stopping to question.  This is completely wrong.
But I don�t care, and you don�t care either.  It�s basic human instinct,
ready to act upon it? Ready to tie me down and chain me up just like you�ve
wanted to for the longest time?  Don�t even bother to ask, just kiss me.