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Sans Sommeil - Poetry Group

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the taste swirls,
draws upon my tongue of
'la fee verte'
whom spins me senselessly
'round a turning of a path...

between the softness of your lips -
my heart beats,
a thunder of drums,
beat, beat, beat
into rapture;
unfurling the senses -
like the breathless grasp of a woman.

writhing inside,
writhing under your touch;
envious of the breath between your lips,
i am yearning for your words
in careless, tender whispers.

but you, spinning me 'round
a turning of a path,
haunting me effortlessly -
my heart beats
because i have loved you.


je suis ivre!

comme le flux et le reflux des mot
mon esprit hurle absoluement
ce que mon esprit ne peut pa dire
que "je suis ivre!"

je suis ivre sur des depouilles d'un crapule
surement alors, je dois etre folle
un ragdoll, imbibe d'liquer

je suis ivre sur la voix d'une sirene
me leurre avec sa misere aussi
rien d'autre importe mais sa chanson

un pas de fantome perce a travers tout ce que j'ai construit
mais je suis ivre
sur la vie, sur la mort, sur la passion -
je suis ivre de la flamme eternelle
qui brule lentement, tourbillonnant vers le bas
dans le feu liquide.


sunrise, my darling
we meet again at the break of dawn -
over a cigarette & coffee.
my mind is in a chemically induced bliss,
with a body wonderfully well-spent;
the coffee tastes just as bold
as last night's rendezvous.
eternally, we share this silence...
ever watching, ever listening
with the promise of tomorrow.


the lights are dim, but i see you,
your shadow under the cover of
bright lights & loud beats,
i like the way you (groove) your hips,
i like the carefree waves of your dark hair,
i like the way your lips look -
soft & inviting - tainted red; a lovely smile.
you and i,
just strangers in a crowded room,
till i hear your voice and you say "hi"
and i say"hello" back.


i can see colors in my mind,
like technicolor ink splatter; shapeless -
carved by a phantom hand amidst an ivory canvas,
and guided effortlessly, subconsciously
by the soul which lies in me;
ink is the artist's blood which gives life
to these enigmatic visions
of color & shapelessness.


the trees are beautiful,
with an ethereal glow amidst the early morning sun -
a vast shade of greenblends together without form;
separately harmonious.
branch tips high above an endless sea of treetops
sway against a gentle wind.
for a moment, i wonder what it would be like
to be a leaf, at the very top;
i want to touch the sky & feel the breeze


(i am a broken machine)
i. am. a. broken. machine,


thank you
- part of gratitude (i can profess).
pick apart from me -whatyoucan;
to fill your [cup of curiosity]
i will suffice with honesty.


thinking.thoughts are flying 100-mph unto an eternity of contemplation, dearest, dearest...
awaiting that crash.
managed to pick up ink steady enough and write what i could.
problems problems with...this, and that
this and that.
"i can hear the wind, loud and powerful" outside
"and so i tell her, you look like i need a drink, i'malittledrunk" we laugh...
one thought to another. one.thought.to.another.
(i have many scribbles to piece to//gether,love)


dark, dark hair...a lady to bare...
as black as the deepest depths of the sea -
& she stood upon that balcony
like a goddess for all to see.

i was mesmerized(petrified)hypnotized by her.
still i move closer
alone, silence;where is it coming from?
that...quiet, that quiet...that,quiet
it's deafening, frightening
& her mere form(no longer provides comfort)
the thought that "this dame could be a...fiend"

falling.i'm falling.a free fall dive.

and then ... ... ...

i can't move
that...quiet, inevitable
her presence is inescapable.
imagination rampant, reaching for
[reality "the worst hell is the one between your ears" the saying goes...]

whisper to me,
talk to me.

ain't no rest for the wicked.




you write beautifully(:


merci ma chere =]

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