Le Parade de Vers

The big-tounged waitress calls out my name

Pours a glass

“Le Parade” into a street wide Picasso

I slump

a fresh lust across

her cheek bone

Now checkered floor

Her voice slides deeper

into the tiles,

Here is where I find my world

seductive as I

Slip

into a trillion pieces

Becoming slowly

unaware,

Every day passes through her lips and breath

Reminding me

always that

she is

my last glass of god.

Reviews

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

Why are you going backward in time?

[Perdition]

Ediitng...Sometimes the action of moving forward is all about the process of working backwards. Thanks for stopping by and reading.

[softlyfall]

Its perfect..there is a good rule of thumb, no more than one edit a day or you make hash instead of succulent tournedos with Bearnaise

[Perdition]

A wise and very good rule but does that apply to the poems that slave into and up your sleeves to tear at your very mind, because I think some exceptions must be made and certainly a very wise poet as yourself would be an incredible advisor at that point so I might maybe stop by to ask if it is okay when i feel the madness at that point... but in the event that you are not available I must add as I feel that the poet must go with their instict, less you lose the very blood of your wrist and pen. Thank you so much once again for stopping by and also for the great advice...I cannot begin to tell you how incredibly important your soft but noble input is at this junction of my writing. As always~

[softlyfall]

Terrifying, and smart.
Sardonic genius, very Baudelaire-esque

[Perdition]

Fleurs Du Mal ? One on my favorites...You are again this poet's poet. Thank you so very much once more "softylyfall". See you in the "trillion pieces"~