the quiet fantasy,
I do feel,
I want to,
I desire, I wish, I imagine,
I find do define
if to imagine
grow a bountiful green
with desire’s energy.
Plant a seed
to know passion
will certainly have blossom,
will breathe the beauty of release.
When while our mind
compels fantasy toward time
our lives welcome the seduction,
that playful reminder rewind.
A swift garment slide surreal
precious an internal fire
will ignite all we recognize
to be climactic to the touch.
We are that readied force
of human nature in fruition
when lust intertwined create
explosive reality, soft serenade.
When now hearts
sweet summer of radiant fever her presence
form is an accentuate, a model is humanity,
curious glance condition a mind’s innocence
figurative is form, sinewy seductive reality.
gentle are shades in peace without intrusion
rose skin would any eye embellish in love
for a little while, could I please have a vision
sweet aloft dance the mind, in clouds above
I would stoop nearby, posture play purity
eyes cascade soft mountains, a sentry’s valley
would that indecision leave a mind lost sanity
insure this moment her elegance desire rally
stun my fantasy with sudden surreal release
escape talons of anxiety, cradle certain peace
When I do recall
deep blue beautiful
I was too young to realize
the lovely seas of dreams you held
sweet hands that soft might
fancy my need.
I would rather return to your eyes
the wash of real I could breathe again.
If I might return to a moment
locked in gaze,
traveling toward your center
lips part just a gasp finds you,
if I could imagine eyes that might melt,
yours when touch allows,
now speaks to me, asks me further,
as inside my world you scramble,
our passions intermingle toward some foundation,
tonight the caress of a foyer wall,
I kick the door shut,
you chuckle with me in full grasp,
I want to play within your world yet my mouth yearns
to find the silk that tease sweet nipples,
I bite, you like, I bite, you gasp, I bite,
you hold on with swift motion makes me nearly collapse
in the notion of your desire.
The doorbell rings, damn, pizza is early again
All of my world would become yours
if in an open doorway your silhouette
might suddenly suggest the next few hours
would be with me and a slow pirouette
We could dance a little while, you and me
with a setting sun nearby our glow became
a natural mingle a quiet celebration we
could experience in autumn rains we name
later on. When evening dusk beckons musk
of two souls sharing the animalistic sensuality
of humanity in throes that smooth material tusk
slide with me in our bargain beyond a society.
If when the magic of your eyes would smolder
then might my world become the shadowy wars
of a yearn, that sardonic wisp of Eve’s nature
– – all of my world would become yours.
She would move in puzzles
the sort that might twist my mind,
sinewy legs, rambling arms,
her breasts alive in silks
meant only for my eyes
in a crowd of many,
yet my eyes would find hers,
search inside her world,
where her hips would move
my loins as the sweat would pour
our bodies in unison
moving on marble floors
we could do it right here,
if only for a society that
might allow sweet liberties,
the sort you write home about.
move with me please would
her shoulders plead my hands
her thigh inside my own legs
her hips gyrating to the blues.
I would watch her in a moonlit sky,
move through the breeze with a need
to only release a lovely energy
the sort that if offered may swoon.
we may dance inside each other’s
minds, passion filled, recreating
a seductive sojourn, her sensuality.
if only the dance floor became my reality.
I have become bored with lust,
well, that reciprocity thing is the cause
I suppose it was a matter of time,
before one more eye roll
while another shift in posture,
indeed, I imagine it was that glare,
caused me to suggest perhaps
aspirations were beginning to
falter in an exceedingly
pretentious sea of sardonic sanity.
I won’t make light of losing desire,
of withering toward an aging leaf,
crestfallen and snapping as life steps
firmly upon the soil of reality.
I’m simply bored with wanting when we wander
through life with constant parameters
legs that would kill if given the chance …
‘hurt me please’
Yup, I’m a little tired of lust.