My Bell, My Jar, My Naked Mind~

~and the interviewer spoke thusly "I swear you're the love child of Plath and Kerouac"~and in eloquence I responded "I (insert bad word here) WISH!"~ ;)~

I inclined my head alongside the window of the train

impression of my body

compressed deep the twists and curves

the rush through your habits

my cure, climbing

arcane, beaded night

rimmed

around your glass

of Chablis

 

I teased the packet of wildflower herbs open

with the tip of my tongue

bracelets whispering against the muscle of your forearms

and, as you pressed your mouth into the bend of my elbow

I declared my love

with jewels edging my nails

delivering 

fine streamlets along every inch

of your well defined cheeks

 

You said you wanted to paint my brighter side

however, I ended up crawling 

brocade trails

strewn

with rose petals

you'd spill around noon

of everydays

from a pouch of romantic ideals

encircling my sleep

as I escaped your hugs

pouring the girl of me

shadows into sheets

and drew my woman arch

around my hips

into faded denim 

an old address folded

in the back pocket

 

You extracted my smoky soul

coaxed through doors of the museum

ran me down corridors

into the chambers of gold sarcophagi

where we played

dice

on a Pharaoh’s trellis of rich golds

laughing as we lost rounds to each other

as clothing fell to the floor

the sound of rustling leaves

dreaming bindings

filling the room

 

I dug my hands

into the back pockets of your well cut pants

my indiscreet laughter

tucked in a piece of origami pie

symbolic

in float

through penetrating air

my proud demon tips

teasing artifacts out of your diamond earring, carat by carat

until they popped like candy

seeding my red dragon plum tongue

your voice undulating in my throat

I poured laughter over its depth

ate your songs

without a second thought

 

The fires were the color of blood

behind your  beautiful body

of well defined male contours

my screaming notes

pearl bubbles

exploding through the golden air

as we pulled

glimmering Temples out

of a pleat of reality

rolled through catacombs on a poppy high

naked and adorned in beads of sweat

past Bast and Sekhmet

into a desert moment

where the nomads paused

on their silk travails

to gaze back at a mirage

of brave you and bold me

screaming the future into the melodic silence of the past

 

I knelt in the product of your thirst

swallowing

amorous swells of prismatic rays

unwound from coiled light

pouring the lady out of me across your animus

my sway made of moonlight

my eyes filled with my secret mind

dipping into

the fluid beauty of your creative sparks

behind the bones

of the fine skull you wore

 

I peeled back my soul

to feed you on the mysterious glamours

of fabled bones

ingesting you raw

naked

going down in all directions

while porcelain winds

shattered

against the windows of the pool hall

as I laid my features into your groove

turned my branded woman inside~out

into a cheap bend against your hips

pressed into the jukebox

in the ancient dive

while the velvet Mona Lisa smiled above the bar

and Ricky Nelson spilled the wine of his beautiful voice

into the lonesome town of a future

where the poets shivered, naked, in the glare of a woman

made of diamonds

dragging

a spectacular man of gold

and bronze

through a picture frame

 

I permitted

my gown of silks

crumble to the floor

shivered into skin

dress 

within the woman with killer eyes

and, as I ate the gold out of the throat of the godling

he tripped me up with shallow love

pulled me above his private life

filled me with rubies

black credit cards slipped between my breasts

swelling

against my murderous brand of erotic slices

with no redemption

 

The birds brought the dawn through the curtains of the suite

I rolled out of the delicious, sticky reds of the bed

for the cool sparks of the shower

naked and pounding each stride of hip into the woman

with the killer eyes

dancing just behind the emerald worlds

of my heartbeat

 

The bells waltzed  the skye from St. Peter's Cathedral

I pressed the arch of my spine

into the iron backing of the chair

while dead poetess leaned across the marble, asking

"Did you feed well, my Belle, did you find what you were looking for this time?"

I shook my head, smiling, whispering

into the past

where her body once reclined

over paper with ink in just these chairs

"No, my perfect breeze.  They worship and they bless and so I take their nakedness and bleed."

the dead poetess smiled

inclined her well coiffed hair of mahogany reds

"Eat them." she whispered, "Eat them like air."

 

 

 

 

 

copyright:2010vssmd/amusemusepress

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Reviews

[Pax Analog]

This poem especially touches my heart. It elucidates the interstice of recurrent rage, where love fails to reciprocate in full kind, because it is still stapled to egoity and simply does not grok sublime seamlessness at the root of all experience. This romantic interlude delineates precisely the universal situation. When Love between a man and woman runs to the depths without shallow compromise and manipulation, the Kosmos smiles.

And the comparisons to Plath, Kerouac, whomever, are tired. These are brand names. They wrote, suffered, died, as do we all. But they have nothing on you. You are the pure heart's flame, the naked mind dancing sublime.

At the heart of the turning worlds, poetics is the work/play of divinity, the Only-ness that is ours when we see through all personal and collective acculturations.

Recognizing the God and Goddess in Man and Woman is not a matter of worship-ful iconizaton. It is a matter of the living, dissolving, annihilating TRUTH.

After we eat these phantasmal letdowns, let us allow the a priori Spirit to breathe all that is or ever will be.

[Celeste21]

"Ingesting you raw" echoed through my mind after reading this. Receptive people do this inevitably.. We inhale, taste, devour eachother till their pain and our pain has no beginning and no end. Full circle. Raw. All natural, no enhancements. No more fronts. Negative, positive conglomeration.

[alan peter kelly]

you take me to a place where nothing else matters except the rich and lustrous world within your most fertile and enlightened mind...cascading rainbows widescreen/high definition/technicolor bursts that fall to earth for someone such as i to souvenir like shrapnel from some star burst in the skye

[Larry Dyson]

What an inticing Image this creates .."The fires were the color of blood

behind your beautiful body

of well defined male contours

my screaming notes

pearl bubbles

exploding through the golden air

as we pulled

glimmering Temples out

of a pleat of reality

rolled through catacombs on a poppy high

naked and adorned in beads of sweat"

So visually vibrant!

[Joiedevivre]

ooooo wow what an experience this poem, really! I feel like i became your brain and lived a life of poetry for a while, gazing through those killer eyes, eating these men, feeling the passion and the disappointment. Another death, another birth, another search where nothing is to be discovered but momentary pleasure, even if it inspires such glorious words from you, who needs no comparison even to the greatest of poets because you stand out well on your own between them.
Incredible read.

[Jūdan FyreHeart]

Wow! This was just absolutely stunning! The story you take us down through here with all those incredible images. Absolutely incredible =D

[Seshat Nidaba]

This is epic and plath-like and moreover I liked the tone :)

[No use.]

favorite x10000+++ ~ irresistibly powerful, i would willingly surrender myself as food for the tearing, if it is your mouth that should swallow me like whole!!!

[Sweet & Tender Hooligan]

My kind of poem, I love its depth. Its a scintillating twisted kaleidoscope of emotions and imagery. A poetic mindfuck.

[OT]

ooo I love coming across a poem of yours I've not read - this is brilliant!! the descriptions hit you at every turn - just you at your strongest here - just each stanza could be extracted a poem within itself - "You extracted my smoky soul
coaxed through doors of the museum
ran me down corridors
into the chambers of gold sarcophagi
where we played
dice
on a Pharaoh’s trellis of rich golds" - I love that one - and also "skin dress" - and so many others - there are loads here that just make my eyes pop!! bravo, encore!!

[Marie Harrison]

I'm glad I read this on Valentine's Day!
Very romantic poem.