Gustav Klimt, The Kiss,

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Like doves that fly by in pairs,
Let those that see us praise.
Lovers that brag of knowing love hush now, silence.
Not does the baker parade with bread,
Nor the tinker with his pots.
Love is best enjoyed in silence,
When wolves howl not,
Witches and wizards when they slumber.
Like imaginary dreams of riding wild stallions.
Love is like Gustav’s the kiss
Let it walk your imagination
Step by step,
And savor its scent in grave quietness.
Like a kiss love is enjoyed with one’s eyes closed,
Loosely shut like a maiden smelling a daffodil.
Slow, slower like an oiled flowing stream of Arabia.
Dance not in our praise,
Nor carnival like in Rio.
Let’s like a candle in pitch darkness burn in silence,
Care not of the wind,
Eyes far in darkness will sing
And their shades around us dance.

And for us praises they will scream.

The Births

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From when the sun sets,
Twilight in her golden dress departs.
Birds set for nests
Waving farewells to a day that melts
Into a time of slumber,
Pillow talks marshmallow soft
Salted laughs shared in exchange.
Touches and caresses as tender as a serpent’s deceit,
Bodies be one,
That time when clouds in darkness hide,
Camouflaged by night’s tuxedo.
Thoughts separate like fingers,
Fingers that explore under nylon sheets,
Tickling nipples like blind hatchlings
Till in months after,
Babies rain.

When am i going to see you again

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We were strangers,
Whose sights seemed related.
That day by the mill
I remembered your scars,
Like I pictured my birth
Yet with inaccurate thought.
I heard my mind race,
As your breath’s warmth
Reached for my eye as you blew.
It touched my adrenaline’s youth,
I stood glued to imaginary sanity,
So why do horses run in my thoughts,
And why now does looking back become a nightmare.
Was i lost or was I in a dream,
In dreams people fly,
Like paper kites only to fall in a storm.
In dreams people are rich,
Only to rise to a stink of the old screaming bed.
But I saw you,
I felt your lips,
And your tongue’s tip
As they sealed like a concrete.
And sight of you became a harmonica,
That once blasted in prison,
That month I there grazed
I see you as much as I hear it.
Measure for pleasure and toil,
All is and always will be at par.
When am I going to see you again?

Me moments

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I sat in silence like a lone garnet stone,

Among pebbles cold gazing at the moon’s light

That salsa  with fluffy cirrus clouds

Slow  to the night’s winds that sing

And earth is in rays of light adorned.

I traded reasoning for imagination,

And with wonder my thoughts flew far.

 

Wedding vows

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Now that we like lovers of Verona wedded and done

Stretch forth dear maiden,

And here gently caress my navel.

Slowly  bite my lips,

and coil your legs around my waist like a serpent.

Feed me love, immerse me in toxic infatuation,

go on till in a passionful trance i am ecstatic.

Feed me love, and the poison of your nipples,

Etherize me in a rare ether till i dream not or worry,

Feed me fruits of love,

and its labors.

Drown me in love i beg,….

Let me cup your ripe breasts at will,

And fondle you like an Arabic prince.

In this day and all tomorrows i do belong to you dear maiden,

Like a prophet that utters a prophetic fate.

Let me slumber in your arms,

And let loose my passion till we breath heavy and hard..

 

now that we have wedded,

please let me.

Then there was sin.

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Men tameth wild beasts to draw ploughs,

Tealing virgin land

and the land bore sweet cottage apples and vines.

He tameth wildlife and out of it made pets,

That cuddle and roam our soft spots.

Rivers and sees by men’s hand  were tamed ,

and there volts were born.

Men tameth the wind, water, fire and ice,..

And yet he tameth not sin.

The sharp cry of a war-torn orphan of Rwanda,

The lament of a raped girl of Nigeria,

The groan of a starving infant of somalia ,

The shout of an abused woman of Sarajevo,

 

The ignorance,

The end.

 

 

 

To the weaver girl in my dream.

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I saw  fair maidens in my dream,

That there  sate in line like pilgrims of Canterbury.

They wove  wreaths fresh and  fair as they were ,

Fairer than when day departs turning the horizon red.

As yonder i gazed in wonder there among-st them stood one that stole my eye,

She wove quicker and in perfection sang  a song soft.

Her lips parted in laziness as if they had a life of their own,

Her wreath shone brighter as if she plucked flowers from Eden ,

Immaculé as if it resembled not a death.

She wove like she knew no worry nor death,

The wind gently carrying her linen gown that on her gently flowed.

Would you look at her work i pray,

Her hands caressing twigs and petals that she in perfection weaved.

 

God bless her hands i pray,

And her lips that she with sings so sweet.

 

I pray that of her i dream again.

 

Knowing me

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Spend time with me,

And after please do tell me about myself.

Know me true , like cathedral hymns to a deacon.

Do tell if like a fox i am sly,

or like an Arabian dealer conniving.

Spend time with me, beloved

Tell me if the sounds of singer birds make me smile

Or if the creak of old bunk beds make me worry

A sad unforgiving reminder of Rhodesian poverty.

Spend time with me,

And after please do tell me about me.

Will i ever love true,

Lost astray in love’s ether

And like Romeo that by passion falleth be.

Immerse me in lines about me,

For i know not who i am.

 

As of now dear maiden..

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All i ask for as of now is you,

Move closer to touch i pray be in my view.

The feel of your ripe breast,

Does cradle my desire to a peaceful rest.

Pretty you are, like your eyes shed no tears,

You smile a fairy  true brighter, enslaving my manly fears.

Come this closer,

In this Eden of dreams

Till our breaths intertwine

Shutting the world outside in an arid Sahara of wonder.

As of now dear maiden,

All i need is you.

 

 

 

 

Les Yeux Sans Visage

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Cheer me up singer bird,

Bring back once more smiles i had.

Here my heart in sorrow beats,

I pray bring back to my blood that heat.

Thoughts in me coldly race,

Faster than a humming bird’s wings.

Where hides my joy singer bird that left without a trace,

Les yeux sans visage, i here lack a face.

Standing glued staring at a fate,

And yet in it i see no joy…

Sing louder singer bird,

Cheer me up.

Fruit of sin

The sad notes of a cathedral piano,

Weeping in rusted tone like an abused mistress.

Hands there twist her dry nipples,

In secrecy a covenant signed by in her growing fears.

Death she is promised through the blade’s kiss.

She cries,

Yet still the twisting behind her cries like the night comes daily.

Prayers she hums in agonizing silence

To who does the harlot’s prayer go?

To the heavens that seem too far to hear i fear not.

Indeed there shall be a time to cry,

A time for the harlot’s cry to drown in her sin’s saliva,

Sin feeds on sin,

Amen.

 

The End

May the end of time find me righteous,
The bug that feeds on the flesh of time.
May I be as clean as day
And as candid as a liar’s truth.
Wheels of sin can they roll on by
With the vile kisses of guesthouse harlots
The screams of country couples
The bark of devilish mongrels,
The songs of cathedral services
The howls of African beasts
The conflict, the drama
Can they please pass.