Thursday, June 7, 2012


Platonic Love

I don't love you for your
beauty, though you are
quite lovely.

I didn't marry you for your
status, though you may
out rank me.

Your money? I don't need
it. Your flaws? My lady,
I see none.

My dear, I love you for
the unseen, the unheard,
the unknown.

Your mind! Oh your thoughts!
My warrior you put me
on edge!

Your snappy wit, quick brain,
brilliant words. Your bursting
imagination excites my mind!

My beloved, keep talking, continue
thinking, never cease to be,
because, that is why I love you.

(I wrote this after reading Shakespeare's "Othello" and witnessing the relationship between Othello and Desdemona)

Attraction of a Deadly Nature

The antidote to this poison
is the one who poisoned me.
A sweet smell lured me to him
and I tasted his words. I am infected.

It burns, coursing through
my body, flowering in my soul.
I must return to him to continue
living, my deadly cure.

The Wait to Live is Over

The figure plaguing my mind
is here. At last, she has
come for me.

Long, thin nails trace the
deep crevices of my face,
along my neck,

Her black, hideous beauty
and spirit invades me.
My breath becomes hers,

My heart fails at her touch,
my body no longer exists.
I am away,

Following her retched, lovely
scent like a beast. She stops.
I wait for it. For her.

She attacks me. Her body grinds
against my soul.
It is so warm...

Heat blazes my consciousness,
ignites it and charring it raw. She
hugs me close. At last,
Death has claimed me.

(I have always thought of Death as a beautiful woman. The narrator is an older man)

Stomach Cleaning

Take that cancerous rod
from your mouth. It is polluting
the air, it disgusts me and your
breath is grotesque, your mouth
is sour and putrid. I hurl up
my guts to cleanse it.

(The phrase 'cancerous stick' struck my mind after seeing an attractive man pull out a cigarette and got changed to 'rod' later on following the rest of the poem)

Let Me Be

I just want to be,
as the flower is a flower
and a tree is a tree
I want to relish my sexuality.

Let me be my body
Let me be my soul
Let me voice my thoughts
Let me think my words

Do not look down your nose
if I revel in my scent.
Do not make a face
If I am dressed unlike you.

I pity you who are ashamed,
and cover your skin in
artificial smells, who constrict
your bodies in harsh clothes.

I want my body to flow,
to burst out like a gush of water.
I want to be high on my aroma,
to drink it like a bold red wine.

So please, shut your mouth,
go cry your fears to someone else,
I just want to lie here in my robe
and, be.

(Being different is what makes everyone special and unique. So why is it so hard to do it without being ridiculed?)

Writer's Block

Sludge is more active than I
am, as hardened clay is too.
Marble are my limbs, my chest
is leaden and dull. This bench is
hard, blood oozes down my temple
from the hole, they drilled,
in my brain.

(I'll be honest I don't know where this poem came from or what crevice of my dark little mind it crawled out, but here it is. The title was an off-the-cuff suggestion from my boyfriend Jeremy and it stuck)

The Queen's Exile

Madness plagues my heart,
The maw opens and devours me whole,
My breast is silent, my mind turned numb
The blood froze tonight, the beating ceased.

The finale, a kiss, yes two.
Frigid is my body and lonely I am
My mind cries for your thoughts
My eyes bleed for your sight
My body convulses and stretches for your touch.

Fire ruptures my heart, nerves burst,
muscles collapse, bones splintering,
skin rips, liquid gushes out
in streams. I scream and die alone.

At its zenith, my sad sun fell
oh my lion-hearted Richard
Take up arms, save your soul
For I am lost without you!

(Read Shakespeare's "Richard the Second" and you will know this is the Queen's lament. Exile is the worse affliction to happen to a human. I wrote this poem in instances of exile)

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