Tuesday, December 13, 2011

To Touch the Intangible

This is my curse
She owns her world in life and death
But she could never own me
Burned me down on marble beds
But it never helped her get me
Because I still couldn't love her

She's a gust of horror, hard and fancy dressed
Gold mining down in the bleakness of my personal madness
She's blood, coagulating on the stairs
The blood the bridges repaired
But only all the gravel knows
Oh the gravel knows the way we both went

She blew the sky from under me
But I was still beyond hell
Pained my heart with the silence of
Black and white hotel rooms
Death in science fiction
To touch the intangible forevermore
This is my curse

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Death in the Left Hand, Glory in the Right

There's a point at which a movie reel
becomes inevitability. A moment
of truth and sincerity that leaves lip prints
on the collar of destiny. It's in between seconds,
meaningless to the senses yet raging
with change and direction. Death, the end,
my best friend. My nightmare my other half.
You're given a lifetime to achieve your fate.
They say the good die young but that's just cliche.
Truth is, the young and dead reached
their destinies faster than the old and sloth.
If you meet the Buddha, you kill the Buddha,
but if you meet your demise, you steal it
from death and you own the end credits.

Veronika Kirsch: Diamond Studded Stitches and a Bulletproof Dress

I can't believe this
I won't believe this is real
I'm not here, there's not a chance
Time is needing
Time is me and you
We will not fall not if we fly
Pretty faces
cannot divide you and I
If they tried
Cries of hollow fools
Fall around your cool
Dyes of sorrow's ruse
You know I see right through
I must be dreaming
I must be dreaming of you
And your eyes
Begging for your life
Begging for your life to end
Yet again
Luckily we're not bulletproof

Veronika Kirsch: Love is a Dangerously Etched Scar




With a screaming glow,
Veronika exacted a gorgeous revenge 
as shallow as she. 
Her hair blew only slightly 
over the crusted flesh of my face 
as my eyes opened, feeling awakened 
from another nightmare. 
I felt her touch, genuine.
Exactly as I remembered 
from the first night we threaded fingers;
from the last night we kissed goodbye. 
There was no moon this time; 
no flames nor streetlights. 
Just black I somehow could see into 
as if darkness had shades. 
But well I knew, 
darkness has shades. 
Mine truly is darker than hers.  

Song of the Misunderstood

I'm not suicidal
I just let everything kill me.
I'm not against revival
I just let everything die.

We Could Start a Religion

If a dream is worth a lie
It's worth living.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Veronika Kirsch: 3am Under Gray Silk Sheets

As beautiful as smoke and ice
We made love on serrated edges
Toying with exaggerations
She tasted like genocide
I never worried
Now that's just a lie

The Ceiling Fan in Winter

Bored to death, with a dark side,
Begging to move just an inch at a time.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

A One Night Stand with the Devil

A celebration of destruction 
Imperfect too
An ode to dancing tragedies
In perfect tune
Not much between despair and ecstasy

Nikki, Miami and Two Smokes Left

Her spirit is stained
Red and brightly tinted
Summer never falls
Winter never springs
Heels don't break from knocking
They break from walking
Her heart is the same. 

Eyes of an Ex



Hiding from truth
Lying behind the moon
Eclipsed with shame
Loathing beautiful rain



A Coffin of Wasted Lines

Attempting to miss a tragedy such as you
Would be prosperous with futility
Such as counting the salt in a sea.

Monday, December 5, 2011

Drinking Under the Henderson Bridge

Shadowless shades move
from any other world
like the last horror movie.
Tourists of truth dismal black
with steel beaks and feathers
like licorice shanks.
Wings of Death's hood
as beautiful as smoke and ice swarming;
No murder ever had such grace.

Of Neon Lights and Faith

It's a blackened day
And my scars are lucidly content.
Hollow justifies my name
Distance rectifies my fame
Fortune still resents my land
Devils walk me hand in hand
It's a blackened morning
I'm a tyrant riding on a bullet
Pillars dignify my pain
Battles exercise my reign
Waters never rise for me
Time reforms disguising pleas.
Sorrow is so peculiar.

From a Conversation with Halina G. Felka 1947-1970

I tried to mean a smile
through vague rehearsals
of the past where practice makes perfect
and perfect broods painless.
Aiming in vein with a warm gun.
Swallowing away sorrows
I haven't had in years.
Standing on deck, messy.
Blessed with sadness
in a mess of madness.
To breathe is to wait lonely
as a patient for a bitter man
to move me on.
So I doubt I'll give him the satisfaction
of deciding my time.
Instead I'll stop breathing
on my own accord. I'll bleed
when it rains and cry
when it doesn't. I'll laugh
at my demise and kiss my rise goodbye.
It's cool though.
It's all just conviction.

Short Words for a Short Temper

Your tongue is broken
In bondage ties
You're nothing without
Your new lies
Love sorrow and go into her

Monday, November 14, 2011

Lullaby to my Demise





Eternal I walk through love and death
With the words only I have spoken.
My pen is my shield, my ink is my courage
And with these defenses I walk eternal.

Eternal I stand with love and death
In the words only I have chosen.
My pen is my sword, my ink is fear
And with these weapons I stand eternal.

Eternal I rest in love and death
On the words only I have woven.
My pen is my cask, my ink is my grave
And in these creations I rest, eternal.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Life in Retro Colors

The tears of life will form the greyest blue
But screaming bleeds a darkly tinted red.
and laughter brings a vibrant green anew
so black can always model for the dead.

Now lighter suits are filled of all things good
and violets only follow after pain.
Our earth, though teal, is labeled brown as wood
and rainbows represent a clearing rain.

The orange and yellow shades are born of heat
but often take on fruity-pollen shapes.
Remainders rest on purgatory sheets
to fill the void of all things commonplaced

Yet in our lives we never stop to think
"No color can replace our favorite ink."



Speed Sonnet - Time: 4.5 minutes

Gravity








Grounded, you are my gravity.


Hold onto me forever.  
Forever you keep me down,
Down in the scent of my own regrets. 
Make mark of the maniac
You name to be me. 
Make name of the addict
You marked on my sleeves. 


Your eyes on me forever. 
Forever they keep me down. 
Down in the sights of my own descent. 
Make song of the magic
You aim to be dead. 
Make aim of the tragedy
You sing to my lies. 


Grounded, forever
You are my gravity.

The Shell Man of the Renaissance



Good people of the city Sicily
I bring to you an offer should it tempt.
We walk, we ride but see what's next for thee
To fly and touch the skies, no bounds; exempt.

Imagine freedom. None like you have felt
Imagine life with eyes so new, uncovered.
Imagine changing cards that you were dealt
By reaching God and thus 
demanding others.

A feat as such would seem impossible
But is it so? If so, how could you say?
Ancestral ghosts speak to me all for goal
To show you people my new light of day.

So open eyed may you decree your loins
And follow me, less you forget your coin.





This is a speed sonnet. It was written in about 9 minutes and 30 seconds. It has not been revised in any way whatsoever.

Charlotte and the Priest




Regress to seasons unbenounced by man
And fall to glory with it's broken rings. 
The signs of promise beckon truant plans
That cause the caustic notes the vultures sing. 

With every step to right we're also wrong
So wrong, in fact, we fail to move ahead. 
The trials we possess are rough and long
And still we ride them on to meet the dead. 

The dead know us so well it seems surreal
With information we should only know. 
Repulsed by bad decisions they reveal
Our planned demises planned by our own vows. 

To go against the church defies their God
And so I'll sit here drunk and high and nod. 




This is a speed sonnet. It was written in about 5 minutes and 30 seconds. It has not been revised in any way whatsoever.

Friday, November 4, 2011

This Dark is That of Ours [Sonnet]







I once was more than what I am today
Alive but mad to live inside my woes.
I cursed the ballads formed of every fray
With you my love, my love I ever sowed.

I held a love who then held me abroad
And stuck within the shallows of her heart.
Our pieces fit like hollow points of gods
In terrored tunes like dismal drunken darts.

Unsheathed and red within our eyes we dance
Colliding nothing more than empty vows.
But still we deaf our ears to love enhanced
And resurrect our pasts to murder now.

But with each time of more comes also less
And so this night belongs to love progressed.

The Singularity of Love's Demise [Sonnet]





Our end was slow as evolution is
As we evolved to pave our different paths.
She ran to sun and lies the likes of his;
I laid in darkened rooms on broken glass.

And through my sorrow fate returned us, two,
On the day of your latest return.
We made a move together and you moved
Back to me as we left lovers burned.

But here your heart was stranger to us both
And I was in a darker now than past.
You left again and left me now to toast
To letting go and moving on at last.

Yet still you thicken hate and force a drown
Upon the lips I've loved, to keep me down.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

The God of my Idolatry











A heart's amidst the breakers of it's doom
When unrequited passion yields a scene.
Outside of mental dillingers, it blooms.
This is the case of Amber Lynn and me.
Our quarry kisses masked our quarreled pasts,
Presenting eyes, of gray, that never fade.
These etchings burned upon our minds would last
Unlike our unforgiving lovelorn shades.
But skilled my hands could paint no better words
Than those that soft the ripening of day
Or tend the lore of love to be absurd.
I wish disclosure light and so I say,
Pronounced as faithfully as love may stream,
She is the God of my idolatry.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Veronika Kirsch: No the Tears Flow





I'm at a personal loss.
Standing in a puddle
in the rain of fallen leaves
with raindrops running through my veins.
Tearing down the workings built before me
but for me. The eyes of the ones
who once loved me
no longer toss tears to the ground
to let them fall and crash
in an orchestral shattering around me.
No the tears now flow.
They flow with purpose and urgency
from swollen lids and race silently down necks.
But tears are to me
what a dog whistle is to a puppy.
No one else hears the tears
and the broken fears within except me.
But blessed I can still ignore them.

Spoken of my Love [Sonnet]







I fly into her chilling azure frame
Like magic milking each and every cloud.
A wilting summer ray agrees, untamed
And clips the sighs we conjure up aloud.

We slide and slither flesh to flesh in bliss;
A high our bodies never will forget.
It's more than sharing tongues to form a kiss,
It's soul inception, tethered like a net.

I've never seen a woman quite so real
Who held a touch of passion never parting.
Her glowing moans I hear and see and feel
Can rival work of Venus and Astarte.

So nevermore I search the stars and ground
For she is all, the world I finally found.

Monday, October 31, 2011

Veronika Kirsch: Her Soul Gives Me Sigh for Sigh





Death had taught Veronika
of the world she was stripped from.
A world of indecent dread
and feelings that deflate
untimely without purpose.
Though she was no longer bound
to the formulaic chaos
of this fleeting realm,
the parings of her past
followed her into death.
Her lust for flesh and danger
now turned towards revenge.
Her passion for all things painful
warped itself into an obsession.
She was done talking.
She now only wanted
to devour me
piece by piece.

Too Strange to Live, Too Rare to Die



I danced with syringes 
on a sloping road to perdition. 
Slumped in black tar 
with a darkness I could see through 
as if darkness had shades. 
But well I knew, 
darkness has shades 
and mine was truly darkest. 
But out of this desperate contrast 
I watched gaily bedlights bleed 
in tandem with the stifling metaphors 
of my past like I had a past worth feeling 
let alone feeling anything for. 
I sang with silent wires 
to a congregation of my woes, 
all personified as grim, as reality. 
My arms began to itch, 
my hands began to scratch. 
My life was a pile of subsequents 
all leading to the destruction 
of myself. Always straying 
from fixing my problems to wander 
in a field of fixations 
where the blades of grass 
resembled the lawn of needles under my bed. 
Where the willows that hang 
reminded me of the hundreds of skeletons
loosely dragging bone to bone 
on crying meat hooks 
in the back of my closet.
Where the clouds looked just like the patterns 
that run along my skin so carelessly. 
Where the moon carried 
a tan better than I 
and we envied each other for it. 
So I danced with those syringes,
hanged myself in between the skeletons,
climbed through the clouds 
and fought that moon
on a sloping road, 
to the metabolic sounds of perdition. 






Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Veronika Kirsch: I Heard You Like Bridges





Barren old skies, haunt my aching haze.
The pain doesn't make a sound
Until I see your face.
But just before I leave, you stop to say
"Do not pray my dear,
For you it falls on deaf ears.
You know regret has such an awful taste.
It tastes so wrong.
You sing it so before each dying day."

I only crawl in you at dusk
To feel like I'm at home.
I know you feel this lust.
We can still be together.
Although I shredded through your heart
And made you pick it up.
I know you feel this spark.
We will soon be forever one.

I am demise, in a million ways
And soon you'll be all mine,
A smile carved on your face.

Close your eyes and let me sleep beside you.
Baby boy, you've got a lot of nerve on you
To blame me for all the pain we both crave.
I'm the one who put your vices behind you.
Close your eyes, and let me sleep inside you.

I know revenge has such a bitter bite.
It tastes so right.
I sing it so below each dying night.

I only crawl in you at dusk
To feel like I'm at home.
And when I feel your touch
I know we'll be together.  
Although I shredded through your heart,
I can try to pick it up
And light a fire with that spark.
We will both burn, forever one.

Veronika Kirsch: Destined to Dance Eternally





Listen up baby
I was wrong
But you were worst
For the curse
That you slurred with a thirst
In a reflection of morbid
Your knife against my breast
Flames in your eyes and the passion hollowed.
Flames in your eyes.
The passion in them hollows me.

Blood and lust and midnight horrors,
Corroding oceans full fire and tears.
You want to know
The way I live in this
Pretty little hell of mine
When you designed each moment like a play.

Nightmares come true and so painful
Your hate is felt so overwhelmed.
I wish to escape
But escape is a novel.
May the pages never borrow
From memories of my own.
But baby you're the one
Who should be hated.
To banish me with horrified justice.

Flesh to ash and bones to follow,
Repeating nightly with funeral glow.
You play your role
Creating everything in this
Pretty little hell of mine
And everyday's a dance with macabre.

Monday, October 24, 2011

Veronika Kirsch: The Albatross is a Tortuous Melody






Your eyes show this fear again. 
A terror so dark and infectious, made of me. 
It breaks my heart, I burn to the ground. 
You're steadily fading. Just because 
I am the darkness in your blood
Doesn't mean you can't illuminate.  

I'm a phantom to you dear,
Eternal and bare
But you only live because you're scared. 
If you were immortal
Would you even care?

Cold and broken
Infected memories
Of my dismal affairs
Lay the top down
On my coffin heart where it lies
Yet I still pretend it's alive
Just because, I am the darkness
Stuck in your blood. 
One more time we'll illuminate.  

I'm a phantom to you dear,
Eternal and bare
But you only live because you're scared. 
If you were immortal
Would you even care?
We both know,
This falls onto deaf ears
Because of my fears,
But soon, may you realize
The demons around me
Weren't always there. 

Just love, with passion like you gave
Love, with a purpose like you have
Loved, with fire like you are love. 

Saturday, October 22, 2011

A Pen for a Blade, A Page for a Sarcophagus







With words I'll mar you
far more horrid than Poe could ever dream.
I'll tell the world of your silver stitched skin
and the beautiful infection
of cemetery lights screaming
from your deviled moon stricken hair
to your tombstone grey eyes
that speak calmly of horrors
like massacre and apocalypse
not merely coming, but being minutes away.
I'll drown focus with your smile
shading bloodstains so eminent
perfecting each shadow of pain
dying from your bangs to your teeth
upon the hellacious lips that imprison my favorite screams.
I'll slice the hearts of hopeless women
when I describe the hands that sank dreams
and became an amateur disappearing act.
I'll incise your curves with the matching
macabre I found under each of your fingernails.
I'll make sure your scars look gorgeous,
as they always have to me.
But I won't sign this masterpiece
until you're mine.

Veronika Kirsch: Poring Over Verses and Bloodstains





The calmest night of mid October
left bells chiming desperately
to escape the illustrious fatality
drawn to me and signed with a curse
in broken cursive. Her heavy
presence was a savage regard
for the misdoings she so violently hangs onto.
The albatross is mine, a lung
that I fill with mixtures of blood
and fervid smoke hallowed
by my southbound stranger
of a heart.


-Egnar

Friday, October 21, 2011

Veronika Kirsch: First Recollection of my Applauded Damnation






The world has watched us drop with a scream. 
Their eyes draped around us. 
They watched as I died
And to no surprise,
They praised my fall. 
You thought it was for the best. 
I know you're a liar.
With a broken smile
I'm left in a pile
Of ashes to breeze. 

Effortlessly slain, 
And cursed to drown in 
Nightmares of pain. 
My spirit has survived
And waits for dusk
To rise again. 

My fate is just a veil
To hide inequities, blessed deceased 
Of a love we barely shared. 
I'm poison too but your darkness gets me lifted. 
I was probably wrong
For the ill I did to you. 
Over and over but you were rarely sober, 
I saw within your hollow haze
You had lost your sight of interest. 

Veronika Kirsch: To Eschew the Heart is to Practice Futility





This bed needs another pulse
but I have no heart to beat.
Grotesque in fantasy
Tonight, you'll beg for me.
There's dismay in your voice
As you implore phantasm, you ask for more.

I can see in the dark you glow
Like you love me too.

Can you see me now
As I punish you,
For your disposition?
I'm not giving up
Until you listen.

Our love needs another death but
You can't, refrain to breathe.
Torturous blasphemy,
Tonight, is agony.
There's a stay in your touch
As you explore phantasm, I'll give you more.

I can feel in the dark you move
As you love me to love you.

Can you feel me now
As I tug on you,
With warm premonition?
You're the one I love,
My favorite requisition.

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Veronika Kirsch: When Dreams Become a Home to Descent







Blame your fears all on me.
It compliments my desolate fate.
Still you resent my flesh.

Hold your breath 
underneath the waves 
of my burning body. 
I have one night 
of love to give, 
and give it to you good. 
So follow me
just a little down. 
Follow me tonight. 

Don't hide
Don't let your feelings die
In the same vein I was slain. 
You're love
Your love is all I want
To have it back is all I ask. 


Blame your darkness all on me.
It compliments my eloquent hate.
Still you resent my breath.

Hold your tongue
underneath the rage
of my lifeless body.
I have one night
to agonize,
and give it to you good.
So follow me
a bit farther down.
Follow me tonight.

I'm a wire in your pulse
with my teeth on your throat.
It's your descent now, love.

Veronika Kirsch: Hearken to the Morbid Sound of a Waltzer's Lust





Please be mine;
be my infatuation.
My love for you
in death has resonation.

You'd have to be crazy
reconciling tonight.
You know you are crazy
Just as crazy as I.

Revolting eyes,
my sepulchre disguise,
follow you
praying for your demise.

You'd have to have lost it
to think you'll never die.
You know you have lost it,
soon you'll be dead as I.

Veronika Kirsch: Elegy for My Deception, Effigy for Your Depression






Recollecting pain
must be as great a foe
as the vice that you can't break:
Your favorite whitest word
that moves you brisk to pass
your suicidal verge.


I cried and watched you bathe
with a cigarette in hand
and a smile on your face
in the tears of my dirge
strangled from my eyes
by your dangerous allure.

You say its just the rain.
A reign of poison and passion
that is born of your mistake,
the second you procured
after fucking me senseless
in fishnets on the curb.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Veronika Kirsch: A Tincture of Convictions and Mysticism




  

Hope lives in your reasoning
In a tomb of silent thrills. 
Your hands hold a piece of me
And you know they always will. 
It's the pain in your lips
And the way that we kiss
That melts me into you like harrowed wisps. 

If I ever get a grip on you again
I promise it won't end
We'll live in love and death tonight, so bright
Like cemetery lights. 

I live in your reveries
Like a sounding sea of black. 
Your eyes stole a piece of me
And I'll never get it back. 
It's the pain in my touch
And the way that we clutch
That bends you into me and shades our blush. 

If I ever get a grip on you again
I promise it won't end
We'll live in love and death together, forever
Under cemetery weather.

Veronika Kirsch: Vanities of a Phantom Lover






I haunt the loving dreamers
Their hearts are mine to keep.
Slaying loves
decaying doves
in soaring shades that bleed.

I haunt the tossing dreamers,
Their dreams are mine to keep
I flip and twirl 
their dimlit worlds
so they may never sleep.

I haunt the crying dreamers,
Their tears are mine to keep.
I thicken strife 
with sickened life
chasing down their cheeks.

I haunt the lying dreamers
Their words are mine to keep.
Construing truths
in holy booths
the darkness only sees.

I am a lifeless dreamer
I only play for keeps.
I've slayed and sold,
in graves of gold,
yet never slept in peace.

Veronika Kirsch: A Bitter End to Beautiful Allusions




This vagrant caught your eyes
With a veil of naked truth.
Her timing caught your heart
And vowed to love in you.
But if she ever did
Oh if I ever did
You had to have known
It'd only have one ending.

I'm as wicked as a devil's horns
But you came to me
Like insanity.
I warned you
But you never
Gave me a chance to run.

I'm not a nightmare
I'm the tremor in
Your eyes
Hanging silently.
I'll give you falsified.
Now the victim
Wants to see you blush
With blood
Placed so vibrantly.
I'll give you time to hide.

This vagrant cuts your eyes
With a blade of naked truth.
Her timing cuts your heart
And vows to punish you.
But if she ever did
Oh if I ever did
You had to have known
It'd be the one and only ending.

Veronika Kirsch: This Grave is Made for Two



I miss the way we use to lay
Shoulder to shoulder
Before it was over.
You'd hold me
But barely make a sound
And listen to my filthy high
And kiss me coming down.
But in a flash of Latin lights,
You banished me to nights
And whispered southern words
of comfort, blight and dirge.
I followed all your tracks
And waited with a patient eye
But you're still of wax
So if love lives, we both must die.

Veronika Kirsch: At Rest on Ocean's Brilliant Dyes






We share this fall
With a smile and a wink
Knowing we want it all.
Your body beckons me
Like cold melodic waves
To ships of haggard dreams.

We are weak and we are weakness.
We are voice and we are speechless.
There's nothing happening
There's nothing happening.
We are love; it's nothing new at all.
We are dark and we are beautiful.

Your faith is like me, empty.
My body is a crucifix.
You love that you want this.

Your brilliance is my darkness
My fire is your favorite ink
So don't pretend 
You never wanted me alone.

We share this world
With a dirty little grin
Knowing we've lost it all.
Your power threatens me
Like boil minded kings
To enemies with foreign dreams.

We are end and we are endless.
We are sins and we are senses.
There's something happening.
There's something happening.
We are death; it's nothing new to us.
We are dark and we are gorgeous.

Your love is nothing like me.
My heart is insidious.
You hate that you miss this.

Your brilliance is my addiction.
My fire is your favorite drug.
So don't pretend 
You never wanted me 
All to yourself.

Monday, October 17, 2011

Veronika Kirsch: My Deepest Circle of Sin





I will compose
a demon out of you,
of missed intentions 
and kilograms of deifying gold,
with arms like broken compasses
that can't find a single road.

I will compose
a monster out of you,
in a broken sea of agony
with waves of echoed rage
and storms of frozen tears
that crash around you.

I will conduct you
to pretend to be gaily
and not at all like me.
I will compose you,
worst than I,
of my deepest circle of sin.

Veronika Kirsch: Share This Bed With Me





Tell me you want me.
Tell me body isn't endless.
Tattoo your fingerprints
all over my neck, red.
Give me more to fear
than never losing you.
Deny me with open palms.

Control me with your thoughts
the way only you know how
and paint me as a chalk outline
on my knees at your feet.
Just make sure my toes
are curled just right
and you get the worst side
of my worst side.

Veronika Kirsch: The Dusk of Silence




It's been 86 days
since I've slept a full night.
Veronika is back
and as lucid as she is real.
She's out for blood
but can only find me
when I dream.
So I sleep four times a day
for one hour at a time
fighting every second
not to fall too deeply.
She's jealous, envious, angry, gorgeous.
She's insane and in love.
She's a tap-dance routine
from dangerous.
But I cannot kill
what I've created
unless I die as well.
And so to keep my breath
and her from a slaughterhouse
furnished for two
I will be her medium,
my pen will be mine,
her voice will be heard
and you will bear witness
to the dusk of her silence.

A Moment with My Muse




While planted in her eyes
I saw the sun and moon shine
At the same time. 
To marvel I stopped
Time and made ripples of her thoughts. 
Her smile pulled me
Like a kite in the wind
But life was still paused
Around me
Circled as it should
With brilliant winds
Cool and smooth
Like marble against my skin
While planted in her eyes.

Carnal Symphonies 3





I stand for you
Over you
With need
And magical wants. 

I lay for you 
After you
With life
And inordinate thoughts.

I fall for you
Into you
With love
And poetic quotes.

Sleep Now in the Fire






Sleep now
forever from me,
warm in your new haven

Sleep now
together, to be
alone and lushly laden. 

Sleep now
never to take
from filthy lucid regrets. 

Sleep now
forever to wake
alone in love, reset. 

Sleep now
on hanging wires
of envy, lust untamed

Sleep now 
inside the fire
of hearts to ash from flame.

Friday, October 14, 2011

In The Hours To Follow Dusk




Comfortable we get, 
together on the bed. 
Each removing layers. 
Peeling them, 
revealing ourselves to everyone 
but no one less ourselves
at the same time. 

We move 
like we're classically trained 
but still uncontrollable. 
I create gentle friction 
on every inch of her body 
with my hands 
and my lips 
until my teeth 
make sense of my direction 
by finally unveiling her 
completely. 

My tongue swings 
thigh to thigh teasing 
a foreshadowed poem 
onto her sensitivities. 
I follow my mouth up 
the length of her extended frame 
until our lips meet.

We begin
to share breaths 
that stutter like 
staggered winds 
into each other. 

We build 
crescendo heat 
like stories 
with rhythm 
and fleshed cadences. 

We wrap our necks 
around one another's 
like swans. Gradually, 
slowly, 
we move 
faster like dancing 
through the decades. 
These minutes of mutual moisture 
sweat into hours as we mix 
and blend 
and make miracles irrelevant. 

And as we surpass the summit 
melting everything we touch, 
deities become timid, 
intimidated by the power 
of our connection.

Something in the Way





This isn't just sex, 
it is something far more deft.

This isn't just passion, 
it is something with far more depth.

This isn't just love, 
it is something far more mythical.

This isn't just us, 
it is us, 
inseparable.

Thursday, October 13, 2011

The Drug in Me is You





I'm addicted
to the sight of you
lined by me gorgeously
for my face to follow
the length of you.
I'll use your hair
as my tourniquet;
red wrapped around
my arm constricting,
waiting for a vein
to grow impatient
and infatuated.
I'll roll you,
with you,
in thin white sheets
until we combust
into inebriated flames
and I inhale
your incandescent scent.
I'll set you gently
on the tip of my tongue
and as you dissolve into me
I'll trip into your heart
and praise the beauty.

Behind Closed Curtains





My renaissance lover
My first and only experience
in Cabernet love languages.

We speak no agony.
Our breaths reverberate
through one another
like brass intoxication
with vivid glimpses
of interpretive jazz passion
for each other's flesh.

I am me
inside of you
and so 
you are too.

Veronika Kirsch: Denied an Encore, But Not a Return









The night was deep
Young and dumb
And liquor was a bleeding wallpaper. 
We bowled consecutively 
Down a single alley
And threw stones at the wall
Of the bar on the other side.
Shots for the losers
Who then became winners
By losing control
Of feeling lost. 
The living room hall 
we danced in mimicked 
Libraries and centers of assassination. 
There I saw Veronika
With long white hair 
Contrasting her short black dress
With a grotesque beauty
Only found in Victorian
Possessions of love or Hell. 
But the fat man told me
I'd never see her naked
And if I did he'd kill
Me and all my dreams.
So I left without intent
Only to go and not return
Hoping I'd forget my imagination
In a drainage ditch
So I wouldn't see her
Even in my thoughts. 
Down country roads
In the darkest air,
A corn flake field
Shook in a cadence
As the sound of broken skin
Chimed through the stalks
In a foreshadowing tone 
I had never heard before. 
Without seeing anyone
Or anything but the corn
I knew it was Veronika. 
I felt her presence. 
The very same presence
From hours like minutes ago. 
But this time I didn't long for her
Rather I was afraid
And only longed to be away. 
But she saw me earlier
And so she feels me now. 
Running was my only ability
And bankrupt I fell
To a pile of dirty money
Face down. 
My eyes reopened
And Veronika was on top of me
Riding me with a passion 
To get what ink was left in me
Like a desperate papyrus succubus. 
And as I realized she was mine
For pleasure and power
She unveiled her cleaver
And her hair fell black
Her dress arose red
And she kissed me 
With a tongue of mutilation.  

Smooth Interlude



Trees greater than I 
Umbrella my skin
From being drenched
In moonlight. 
The epicenter of my thoughts
Burns orange and grey
Cloudy but clear. 
The sky gives off
Hope with its tangibility 
As my tongue licks air
I could get use to. 
Faith runs away from me
As I need it no longer. 
I just need her
And so my break is over
And all my thoughts are amber
On this perfectly drawn
October night. 

Monday, October 10, 2011

Genesis: The Fall III (Can You Feel It?)


.
.
.
I
Lied
When I
Said I was
Falling hard for you too
Only because the truth is I've already fallen.
I just didn't have the tongue to say
In five words or less
That my heart
Knows I
Love
You
.
.
.

We Missed The Movie But It Was Worth It





Feel these eyes,
my eyes,
as they walk about 
your glossy skin
dampened by the
frozen blue light behind me.
Feel them tread
from each toe
up both of your legs
stumbling at your hips
circling your chest
and gliding on your neck
to your lips
kissing them softly.
Feel them run through your hair
until your eyes see mine
as they see yours
and we see each other
in each other's eyes
reflected back with love.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Genesis: A Confession




My writing was never as real before her.
My perfect motivation.
My tangible imagination.
I'm only as good as my muse
and my muse is a perfect flame.
She dances through my thoughts
like a forest fire spreading
wisps and wings elegantly
through my entirety.
She swims through my arteries
and spills gloriously from my fingertips
with the beauty and force
of a mile high waterfall.
And the notes
she moves my hands to play,
And the strokes
She moves my hands to sway
And the way
We touch
Before
We clutch
always sings
I love you.

Friday, October 7, 2011

Genesis: The Conversation




She draws me a picture.
A half heart
half flower
that to me felt
like a spiritual self portrait.
The beauty her hands
created from thoughts
of me
brought a single tear
from my sewn ducts.
Then the inscription
that laid perfectly at it's feet
whisked my heart,
ready to blend
with hers.
It said:

Beauty divine,
love so strong
it can change the world,
you, me, forever,
until the end of time.

Then she softly said:

You're that of an angel
sent to me
from a heaven I never did believe in.
To be a person
so loving, caring,
and sweet as you,
you cannot be
that of a human

I fall,
my chest goes numb
and I tell her:

Baby
my heart is melting
in your hands.
The love within
your words is as surreal as
the masterpiece that is you.
I could fall for you
a million times and never lose
a single speck of interest.

Our smiles light up
these midnight hours
preventing sleep without complaint.
Our minds are in motion,
our motion is flawless.

She breaks the brisk silence:

I really do hope
you are the one,
I can feel this heat
burning in my heart
from the passion
that we already share,
so one day
when we become one
we can become
a scorching fire together
I really am
the luckiest girl alive.

And in the dance of my flame I say:

I believe you.
In you.
With you.
I know you're right.
And i'm already cherishing
every second of this.
But I would be
the luckiest guy ever
to burn in glorious flames
with you.

She serenades my name again and again:

Johnnie,
Johnnie,
Johnnie if you only knew,
the things I thought about
with you,
the passion
we have now
is nothing
compared
to what lies ahead.

She reassembles
my disastrous icon of a heart
and makes it feel beautiful again.
And how could I not fall
for another
unmeasurable time.

Or Your Money Back



I need to satisfy you 
here tonight 
so be insatiable 
like Rio for the heat 
of underdressed harlequins. 
I am your jester. 
You're biting my lip 
with my hands 
forming webs 
over your naked body. 
You torpedo 
through my veins 
vein to vein 
with the motions 
of foreshadowing 
and I shadow you 
like a shade 
imprinted inside of you. 
I need to satisfy you 
here tonight 
I will satisfy you 
so be insatiable. 

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Aphrodite's Magnum Opus





We stand in the traded winds
of the surrounding sea.
Her lips dig into mine
so eloquently stalling time
as we grip each other
like a silent promise
to never let go.

We stand in the thinned winds
of the surrounding sea.
Her eyes dig into mine.
She is my favorite constellation
as we smile and stare
like a silent promise
to make this last a few forevers.

We fall in the jealous winds
of the surrounding sea
and the waves applaud 
the beauty 
of Aphrodite's magnum opus.

Kissing in Cars




We kiss.
She smiles with a shiver
in my arms
turning cold air into an
aurora borealis.

We kiss.
I fall from my every thought,
carried away
by the forest colored wings
of her heart.

We kiss.
The poet is swooned once more
and together
we make this world
feel beautiful again.

We kiss.
We keep kissing; not stopping
not to breathe
not to care for anything but
each other's lips.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Rain Never Felt So Good





Just place your heart
in the palm of my hand
     Wrap my strings
     around your finger
Unravel me
my desires
my passion
     Fall in love with me
Give me something to fear
like fire waltzing
between my arms
     Hip to hip
     Lip to lip
until I cannot stand
to think of      without you
and the moment I've melted
on the sweet of your tongue
Move with me
     Here
     Tonight
     Now
     Because
The rain never felt so good.

Friday, September 30, 2011

Genesis: A Vow




Our love will be bright.
Unconditional and undying.
A vibrant scene
of what two hearts look like
as they combine
in perfect harmony.
Myths will cry
jealously wanting
what we have.
And everytime it rains
we'll kiss
and keep our flame
thriving as beautifully
as it did our first time.

Genesis: The Fall [II]





The way I fell
for her was sweeter than snow.
Landing gingerly on her velveteen lips,
I melted and was pulled in
by the breezy strokes
of her drawing breath.
Each tug of wind sings to me:

     She loves to read my words
          She loves loves to read lips
     I love to write her curves
          I love to need her lips

The world shoots us second glances
and they call us dizzy lovers
because of the way our heads spin
every time we kiss.
But they don't understand
and they may never
without feeling us.
So I will write it
everywhere we go.

Hold Onto Your Hope (But Please Let Go of Me)





Its is the strand of hair you twist
to hold the weight of your burdens.

It is the fingernail you split
to keep your grip on a razor's edge.

It is the glue that flakes
keeping your torn paper heart together.

It is the thread you tie
to keep your seams from unraveling.

Its time you say goodbye
For it is I, but I not it.

Thursday, September 29, 2011

We Kissed on the Quarry in the Rain





The sound of your heels
gracefully landing
on lucky old stones
blends melodic
with the droplets
falling down plateau walls.

Your scent dances
back and forth
enveloping me
like a love shaped cloud;
an incomparable parabelle.

Our warmth entwines
as we create gentle friction
from your hands to my back;
your hips to my hands;
our cheeks to one another's.

The rain glistens
like emerald sparks
as each drop ricochets
off the river interrupting
     it's silent flow
just as our lips interrupt
     the pattern
of our nearly inebriated hearts
     each time they meet.

A myth became memory
and a poet became speechless.