Shedding

you have taken my coat

you have torn off my shirt

you have ripped at my skin

entrails contained barely within

 

a gratuitous graze

of your sordid fingernails

in obtuse arrays

a chorus of wails

from the anguished self

 

you have emblazoned my scalp

with a thorned crown

raise me up, arms outstretched

then tear me down

 

i shed myself of you

the shards of me puncture your heels

your scars rest subcutaneous deep

yet my soul bears cavernous

weals

 

 

Centrifugal

you are attracted to my shine

watching me twirl

trying to define

such an essence, sublime

a diffident whirling dervish

divine

 

with speed the sparks fly

and you stand closer

intoxicated, i so spry

warm becomes …

well … let’s just say “deep fry”

for such spectacle

none may decry

 

but

such revolutions as they daze

shall never fortify the ways

of your haphazard, gloating gaze

 

and I slow

tipping to fall

my spinning top

a fizzing fireball

 

ignite me again

Fruit

you hang low, plump …inviting

sumptuously spawned in summer sun

fleeting fruit so tempting

luxuriant on lubricious limb

the one

should I pluck you now?

anticipating viscid juices, trickling down my chin

should I wait for fuller flavour?

as it intensifies within

i hesitate with such a thought

i spin you, stem spliced with spiral strain

observing the peachy pirouette

seasonally engorged

to please again

The Bookmark

i am a tattered bookmark

nestling between feathered pages

the best time of your day you say

with coveted book, to read in stages

..

but alone in the light of day

to leave this worded catacomb

i’ll edge away from threaded spine

seeking freedom from paper home

..

so many of your transient reads

have evoked smiles…private tears

i’ve watched them come and go

i the constant,through the years

..

but these pages are not my friends

they constrict with musty damp

so rest me on your bed time lap

there us both, by oiled lamp

The scent of morning

you are succulent, sublime

a titillating triumph

worthy of rhyme

presented to bewildered senses

..

oh, if i could but breathe you

..

but your scent has been lifted

in flagrant defiance to my need

a fragrance deified with floral emollients

into a crystal vial

lush, concentrated

tucked under Raziel’s wing

contents sealed, angel warmed

to wait

until our empyrean dawn

..

for, on that day

mere misted drops of you

melding with the amber morn

shall rhapsodize

such a horizon resplendent

with dawn’s resonant sighs

 

Vinyl

 

placed on the platter

i reach for your tonearm

..

i’m your one hit wonder baby

i’ll spin faster, frantic maybe

 

in low light, dimly see

label blurred

giddy guarantee

when you play me

r.p.m 33

 

 

..

eyes closed, now listen

every lubricious line

Carla Bruni style, soft gasp

honeysuckle ooze, sublime

..

diamond stylus tips my grooves

undulating, rise my moves

do you like what you hear?

close your eyes…

hum me near

 

………..

before streaming, before CDs …. the raw analogue imperfection of a vinyl record spinning on a turntable. Tonearm, platter, stylus are all turntable components.

Image courtesy of Google.