My Bell, My Jar, My Naked Mind~A Poem by NoneOfYourBusiness akaKITTY KUTABAREakaCandyPole~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 © 2010 NoneOfYourBusiness akaKITTY KUTABAREakaCandyPoleFeatured Review
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Added on December 12, 2010Last Updated on December 12, 2010 Tags: poetry, dead poets, Sylvia Plath, Jack Kerouac, blending, bleeding words, eating soul, story in unfold, selene skye, surreality, girls with red hair, on cherry cadillacs, with bushido swords, books AuthorNoneOfYourBusiness akaKITTY KUTABAREakaCandyPoleAsIf, Trippy Cottontail, JapanAboutVictoriaSelene Skye Deme Author of. . . . ~CrowWoman & MudGirl~ ~Eve's Rib~Jezebel's Hips~ ~The Raspberry Girl~ ~Girls With red Hair On Cherry Cadillacs With Bushido Swords~ ~From The Gutte.. more..Writing
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