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891 · Oct 2014
Halloween
Dark is the night that woke you from your dream.
Dark is the cause of that frightful scream.

Fear comes knocking on the door.
Fear crumples you to the floor.

Silence is the reply.
Silence means they're nearby.

Softly creeping toward your room.
Softly heralding your doom.

Heart beats loud in your head.
Hearts that are no longer needed by the dead.

Dread and sweat pain your body.
Dread that you might 'see' a body.

Halloween that holy night.
Hallowe'en so full of fright.
© JLB
31/10/2014
02:28 BST
885 · Apr 2014
Naked firework
I awaited naked on the bed
Waiting for the fireworks whilst
Fragrant jasmine clung to the air
My heartbeat hastened
Waiting for you to come
Chastened by my wanton ness
All the while awaiting you
Waiting to be cradled.

Elated by the night's promise
I sparkle in anticipation
Overstimulated I fantasise
Fireworks bang, clash and crash outside
Untranslated lust leave me and
The fireworks illustrated.

You, are finally here
My need to be consummated takes hold
You dominate my fire worked state of mind and nakedness
I shake and convulse like a sated rocket
Assassinated on the bed, we culminate
Wasted, elated
Blazoned lovers out animate
The fireworks.
© JLB
877 · May 2014
Maleficium
Bewitched by your soul
I crave to know your gift
Your gift of knowing me
Owning me, filling me
Did you glamour me?
Or did I entrance you?
Your leadership of me
Makes it hard to resist
Your charm, your craft
I'm charmed by your knowledge
Enraptured by your mask
What are you?
Should I feel horror?
I feel so at home in your arms
Which of us is the witchery spirit?
Are you a warlock?
One that has locked me in a battle of need,
need of you?
Or am I the enchantress that has hexed you?
We cannot be parted, we are one
I am undone
Sorcerer of me
What is under your cloak?
© JLB
Cigarette smoke curls upwards,
spiralling into the ether and downwards into my lungs.
I sit looking at the cigarette packet
reading the warning:
Smoking seriously harms you and others around you
How true.
Except, it isn't the cigarettes that have harmed me, it's your lies.
Did you think you'd be able to keep me in the dark?
Did you think me that stupid?
Tut tut, lending me your car, not emptying the ashtray,
didn't think you wore lipstick whilst driving, just sunglasses.
The colour wasn't mine, too brash.
I take the last drag, watch the tip flame orange, and feel the nicotine calm
I pick the Marlboro's up flip the box over, and smile at the irony,
there in bold reads Choose freedom, we'll help you
if I rang the free phone number will they help me dispose of your body?
Your staining my kitchen floor, the nicotine is staining my fingers.
© JLB
25/06/2014
869 · May 2014
Ira (Wrath)
Hate not blood course through my veins
I want to laugh in your face, when you feel the pain
My fury is my story not yours to tell
Mine to yell, demonstrate, remonstrate
Wrath, in its purest form, presents with self-destructiveness, violence, and hate that provokes feuds that go on for centuries.
Wrath persists long after the person who did another a grievous wrong is dead. But, wrath is mine to feel, to touch, to taste.
Feelings of anger impatience, revenge, and lividity.
Wrath is allowing my revenge, call it self-destructive, call it
bad behaviour, my sin of wrath is directed internally toward me.
Suicide, deemed as the ultimate, albeit tragic, expression of hatred directed inwardly, a final rejection of God's gifts.
But,you made me angry so it's you I reject.
When cold tempered steel,
meets hot vengeful blood
© JLB
Dante described vengeance as "love of justice perverted to revenge and spite". In its original form, the sin of wrath also encompassed anger pointed internally as well as externally.
863 · Jan 2015
Shroud
When I walk by, do you feel the tension in the air?
Do you notice that I'm even there?
I'm waiting for you to notice me.
I'm watching whilst you go day by day oblivious of my stare.
I walk so close you must feel my breath
Hear my steps
Smell my scent
Feel my need to be by your side.
And, yet I'm continually denied my presence by you.
Others notice, they look at me, through me.
They ignore me.
The woman in the grey shroud, blending in with the crowd.
Soon, this shroud will lie in tatters, and all who matter will know
How enticed by your paradise I paid the price
Seeds sown, Ploughed and rooted
The child within was muted
Know how you denied me twice and left us to die, sliced.
© JLB
02/01/2015
04:08 GMT
862 · May 2014
Spirit (Zeitgeist)
Spirit of the age.
Which age?
Indifferent?
Explicit?
Aesthetics?

Art
Beauty
Film
Music
Li­terature

Modern
Classical
Ancient
Medieval
Contemporary

Greek
Chinese
Arabic
African
Indian

Limelight
Sun­light
Moonlight
Twilight
Candlelight

My spirit straddles two ages
20th and 21st
Can it be that I've surpassed my
own time?
Alas,

Goodnight from this plebiscite
Sleep tight
Don't let the zeitgeist bite.
© JLB
"no man can surpass his own time, for the spirit of his time is also his own spirit."
Her body was her success
but, her intellect was just a guest
that came along to the photo shoot.
Undressed, she was perfect,
alone she was fragile,
a child looking for love.

Her effects were legendary.
Many have tried to capture her
essence, they've failed
Marilyn Monroe
a fake name for a real
person.

Norma Jean Baker
Brunette to Blonde
As her two personas intersect
it's hard not to feel regret
for the child with a smile
so wide, it reflected the sun.

We , the adoring fans made her public property
forgetting her individuality, sensitivity and
vulnerability.
We used and abused the sunshine
she brought, she lived a lie
We that supposedly were in love with her
killed her beauty, without and within.

Nembutal, overdose, suicide,cover up
believe what you want.
What's true is she had a
luminous quality, wistfulness, radiance, and yearning
that set her apart.

And, in her own words
"Give a girl the right shoes,
and she can conquer the world"
That she did, and still does.
© JLB
“A l'intérieur de ce corps vivait l'âme d'une intellectuelle et poète dont personne n'avait le soupçon.

Within this body lived the soul of an intellectual and poet, which nobody had suspected.”
― Antonio Tabucchi
861 · May 2014
Twin
Let me begin by saying
"I was a twin"
That's right was
I ate it in the womb.
Now it's not all doom and gloom
I had other siblings
But, one could say, that,
before birth I was a
murderer.
The evil twin.
Or, just peckish
Lecter had nothing on me!
Now, yes I did consume
my twin, but in my defence
(And my chagrin)
One of us had to win.
Imagine looking at a
being, your doppelgänger
from the room of the womb.
There wasn't enough elbow room
(or legroom)
for that matter
So, to my mater I apologise
that I cannibalised
myself.
© JLB
853 · Oct 2014
Slumbering black
Obsidian black blankets my thoughts and the night.
What lurks in cracks?
The cracked cement.
The cracked psyche.
Bats flutter in the belfry.
Madness takes hold, or is the madness masked as sanity?
Erudite my words may be tonight, but tomorrow I may babble.
Like a brook, black as a rook.
Why do these thoughts become clear in the dark?
Darkness leads the way onto a path.
Juxtaposed by the black night, the light is dimmed
Feelingly, gropingly, groggily I'm frightfully led.
To where?
To bed?
To sleep?
To dream jet black thoughts?
Oblivion, delirium, lithium.
Crow black is the deepest part of the night.
Inky pools of forgetfulness abound the sleepers tonight.
© JLB
25/10/2014
02:11 BST
853 · Sep 2014
Her
Her
I hate her.
I loathe her.
I despise her.
I abhor her

Detest, execrate, am repelled by her.

I am aggravated by her breathing.
I am repulsed by her being.
I am dominated by my hate for her.
I am filled with hatred for hating her.

*I humiliate myself by hating her, but it feels good
These are my feelings towards my mother in law.
© JLB
12/09/2014
00:25 BST
849 · Apr 2014
Recognise
I recognised you as you stood with your back to me
I tried to verbalise a word for you to hear
Yet I was too hypnotised to vocalise a single sound

To call to you would send lullabies your way
It would have solemnised the moment
Pantomime like I stood stock still, not ready to eulogise.

I wanted to maximise the moment
To sacrifice the past, to address this big occasion
To strive and entice this surprise, but

I didn't call, too many butterflies interceded
My desire to shout out to the me that I
For a brief moment recognised.
© JLB
846 · Oct 2014
Very not well
Today, I am very not well.
I feel like there's a bell tolling in my head.
I don't want to get out of bed
My ears don't work
My mouth is dry
My back is old and bented
My stomach is churning
My throat is gurgling
My eyes are crusted with crap
A whisper's too loud
The toilet is full of carrots
(When did I eat carrots?)
My nose is running, I better go after it
I'm sniffing, I'm sicking, I'm chilled then hot
I'm telling you lot, I'm very not well
I'm glad I have no sense of smell
What's in the bucket, looks like it might have rights
I'm telling you lot I'm very not well.
© JLB
04/10/2014
12:33 BST
839 · May 2014
Silent Demon
My demon stays silent
He has nothing to say
If I allowed him to speak
You'd only run away
So when I'm asked "are you ok"
Silence is the stern reply.
Quiet, peace, dumb, mute
Blank, impassive, soundless a
Demon tamed by having nothing to say
© JLB
837 · Feb 2015
Awake
I've stayed awake all night
All that's changed is the light.
I'm still me, you're still you
Together, two people who've changed
yet remained the same.
Like a photograph caught forever in time.
The beat of our hearts mark seasons and milestones.
Our pulse is the ticking of the clock.
I've stayed awake to watch if sleep brings change,
It does, it brings the dawn.
© JLB
22/02/2015
08:45 GMT
833 · Apr 2014
Scent (10w)
You left, and I
lament the
remnants of your
scent.
© JLB
829 · Apr 2014
Cloak
Cloaked in anonimity she walks the halls
Cloaked in solitude and an aura that repels
She walks in heels, clipping the wooden floor
She is an enigma, she is known, she is the girl that no one knows
Knowing her is a privilege, it means she acknowledges you
You, look at the long hair dyed to hide, her lips painted to entice and repel.

The blood red lips, black hair, heels and sneers, cloak her
Talk to her and she may answer, she may just walk on
Ignoring the occasional stare she melts into herself
*****, is whispered, she inwardly smiles, searching for a face
She wants to be new. She wants to be herself.
She wants to be alone, she wants to be in a group
She wants to be somewhere new.
She wants to be with him, but, she never will
She knows the meaning of being lonely
It's her cloak.
© JLB
827 · Jan 2015
Gothic
"Tales of gothic horror and romance feed on our darkest fears and desires"
said the dimly lit figure.
Sat by the fire, obscured by shadow,
I would have sworn it my doppelgänger.
Tell me your darkest secret and I'll tell you mine.
Tell me your story before the bells chime.
For when the bells ring we'll be out of time.
What is your darkest fear?
What is your darkest desire?
Pray tell me so that I can put out this quizzical fire.
I'm not a threat, neither good nor bad,
just nosy is all, looking to learn
seeking a spirit to join mine, I just yearn.
Damsels in distress, ruinous castles, cathedral spires tall
I've seen them all.
Brooding heroes, twilight trysts,
even the odd slick, slit wrist.
But hurry tell me what do you yearn?
For your telling I will return and I promise you life eternal.
Just sign your name binding our game
© JLB
10/01/2015
03:07 GMT
815 · Dec 2015
Options(10W)
You reap what you sow,
even if that's only woe.
Copyright © JLB
05/12/2015
02:24 GMT
813 · Dec 2015
Outside, In.
I've not been outside for 100 days.
100 days of self imprisonment,
like a bird in a cage, though the bird was forced,
I have sentenced myself.
I try to go out but the outside wins,
it whispers warnings on the wind, it rustles its rudeness in the trees leaves, it sends a crow to caw, telling me to close the door and stay in.
Copyright © JLB
05/12/2015
14:34 GMT
811 · Mar 2016
Queueing
The line is long.
Am I in the right queue?
Why do they use those stretchy barriers?
Why does the queue next to me seem to be moving faster?
Security checks. Everywhere you go, look or turn, a security check.
Look at the cameras and the border control officials, do they have to queue?
Shuffle movement up ahead.
Tinny old time music playing on a loop.
How many times do I have to hear "The wheel of fortune"? It goes round, I get it. Unlike this **** line, it's not going straight, curved, zig zag or anywhere, I swear if Kay Starr doesn't shut up about that ******* wheel I'll staple her to one and roll her down a hill.
No, wait, she's dead, ******.
Wait, the line is moving, yes!
End of the queue coming up, oh look a poster "Anything to declare?"
Does boredom count?
If yes follow the red line,if no proceed through the green exit.
Yes, finally, green for me.
NO, I've nothing to declare, stop, take me back to the green exit.

The wheel of fortune goes spinning around
The music stops, a tinny voice is heard
"Welcome to purgatory. Your stay is dependent upon truth, honesty and atonement. Please conduct any queries or questions via your religious belief system and representatives"
Copyright © JLB
12/03/2016
03:03 GMT
811 · May 2015
Hello (10W)
'Hello', said the voice from the darkness.
I'm back again.
Copyright © JLB
22/05/2015
04:23 BST
810 · May 2014
Moths and Butterflies
Is it natural to dislike a moth yet like a butterfly?
Mojito flavoured beer helps the spring birds sing
I'm sat yet floating in the last rays of spring sunshine
Remembering when I was yours and you were mine.

Memories gratify, whilst faults grate
Did you love me or the butterfly within?
I hear my scoff at this thought, I'm more moth you see
Butterflies capitalise on their pretty lies.

You fell for the pretty lies
You fell for the pretty wings
You fell for the notoriety being with a butterfly brings
You fell for the purposes of the accident report

So, I guess I dislike myself, since I am more moth
I froth at this revelation, come late this spring sun
Applesauce faults gloss over the fact that I the moth
Will morph into butterfly come summer.
© JLB
795 · Jul 2015
Reflections
Where do you go when you stare?
Am I there?
What are you looking at?
Is it me?
Why are your eyes vacant,
and your mind so full?
Do you remember?
Do you want to remember?
Are you in the past?
Are you in the present?
Are you remembering?
Are you forgetting?
Remembering running, walking, playing.
Remembering loving, singing and dancing in the rain?
What are you looking at when you stare?
I can't answer I'm not there.
Copyright © JLB
02/07/2015
12:53 BST (Spain)
793 · May 2014
Addiction
Consider the individual differences in the experience of pleasure.
Reason that certain individuals may be more sensitive
to the pleasurable effects and thus experience them with greater intensity, resulting in addiction.
Therefore,
I am an addict.
Addicted to words
Addicted to expression
in all formats.
My positive urgency to write
is a dependence on viewing
words, sentences and rhymes
of descriptions forming,
magically upon the page.
Behavioural addiction.
Not, gambling, ***, drugs or
Rock 'n' Roll but of
Ink,paper, pen, iPad, tablet
the format has changed over the
centuries, the need has not.
Fiction, truth,lies and promises
all end up in that icy part of a writers heart,
tearing, souls and breaking hearts,
soul shattering truths held in shadows
of the soul
© JLB
“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.”
― Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets
790 · Dec 2014
It's because I love
It's because I love that forgiveness reigns.
It's because of love that I forgive.
Yet,because of love I cannot forget.
Because of love I am filled with regret.
Regret that I have hurt you.
Regret that you hurt me.
Two wrongs don't make a right,
and try as I might love always wins.
It's why my forgiveness comes in the form of a knife,
after all it rhymes with wife, and this wife ain't afraid to slice.
© JLB
19/12/2014
02:15 GMT
788 · Sep 2014
The Unsealed Kiss
Put your arm around my waist.
Let us share a kiss so chaste
that even sinners will be vouchsafed
by its purity and be graced.

I am debased by its foretaste,
encased in the sin of lust.
Lips interlaced like a corset yet undone,
enslaved by your lascivious tongue
.

Come hold my hand and retrace our steps
back to where we first embraced,
unscathed by want, need or disgrace.
Where we raced into each other with haste.

Crazed with passion made brave by fate,
seal my end with this misplaced date.
Ignore my complaint and acquaint yourself with me.
Debase the chaste kiss that started this greedy need in me
.

Forgive me for I have strayed, half crazed,
into a kiss that coursed and raced through my soul
like poison not yet sated, straight into craven depravity.
Engraved upon my heart forevermore, is my last kiss.
© JLB
09/09/2014
23:37 BST
782 · Dec 2015
Untied
To be free would be fine

But then we write a line

And we are tied to ink

As babies are by milk

Images dance behind eyelids

And words are formed, onto paper they slid

Slid through the ink to the nib of the pen

Not knowing when images and words are unbound again.
Copyright © JLB
11/12/2015
16:18 GMT
781 · May 2014
Bleach
The smell of bleach stings her nose
And waters her eyes.
Clean and purifying, whitening her darkness,
the bleach is cleansing the beast.
She's lost count of how many scourers
she's used on her skin, just to get the taint of him
off of her.
His actions were well concealed that night,
her pleadings fell on deaf ears, so intent was he.
He made her feel like a piece of meat,
cheap, and at fault
time after time he forced her to kiss him,
to smell his closeness
his alcoholic breath, his sweaty hands, his rough hold.
Finally, a friend appeared, he grabbed her from
the monster, then rage, fists and threats appeared.
She ran as fast as her heels allowed,  
through the maze of crowd, oblivious to the monster
lurking in the corner.
The monster's name was John.
Her saviour's name was Rhys.
Yet, still no peace not even today, just the cleansing smell of bleach.
© JLB
@18 this happened I owe Rhys a lot, I owe my husband an apology as to why I couldn't kiss him for almost 2 years.
781 · Jan 2015
Goodnight
A good thing happened tonight
I didn't take flight when you caught my hand
I felt your skin, warm on mine
It sent shivers up and down my spine
This wasn't a friend catching your hand and pulling you to play.
this was a love hold, that made me catch my breath.
I saw your eyes twinkling in the rays of the dying sun,
and caught the gleam of wickedness, drawing me in.
I spun to run but you held my hand, it's softness drawing me close,
I looked into your face, saw a deep blush and realised,you were afraid,
just like me. I caught your scent, clean, outdoors, shampoo,
even the faint hint of your gum, minty and fresh.
My head spun, my smile widened, my arms took hold.
We held each other for just a while, then with a smile we kissed.
That minty gum was like a cool spring, cold yet invigorating,
and like spring water we drank deeply.
We touched, we stared, we gasped, we laughed.
When we let go it was time to say goodnight.
We walked our separate paths, but before leaving we made sure
to adjust our dresses.
What conclusion would the neighbours come to?
Two teenage girls, clothes askew and florid faces,
whatever conclusion they came to, the truth would make
their hearts need pacemakers!
© JLB
17/01/2015
01:10 GMT
779 · May 2014
Poet(ess)?
Poetess, rare in contemporary usage
yet, not rare in actuality.
Am I a poet? Or a poetess?
The word "poetry" derives from the Latin feminine noun poetria, meaning not "poetry" but "poetess.
So, confusion reigns in my mind as to what I am
but not what I do, or why I do it.
Do I write because I want recognition? Fame? Accolades? No.
Do I write because I need to? Yes.
Words soothe my soul, whether they be dark words or
words forged in the light.
Poetry allows the poet and the reader to visualise
nay experience all forms of love, hurt, pain, madness,
and suffering, the poet, the poem and the reader become as one.
© JLB
Marianne Moore famously described the poet's job as creating "imaginary gardens with real toads in them".(Poetry)
777 · Jul 2014
Voices in my head
I wish for silence
I wish for peace
I want you all to be silent
I don't want to hear you any more.
I feel awashed with voices talking at once.
SHUT UP
I'm begging please just one night of peace.
I don't want to care
I don't want to lay my heart bare
I don't want to bare my soul
SHUT UP
I'm sorry your dead
I'm sorry you left things unsaid
I'm sorry they can't see or hear you
**Just get out of MY HEAD
© JLB
28/07/2014
774 · Aug 2014
Adulteress (10w)
A
Desirous
Unfettered
Loose
Trollop
Exhibit­ing
Rampant
Elevated
Sexual
S**trains
© JLB
17/08/2014
01:40 BST
772 · Jun 2014
Melt into you
Sunrise, and with it the heat of the day,
I lay beside you watching your eyelashes flutter
your eyes roaming under their lids.
What are you searching for in this sleep so deep?
I'm here if you're looking for me.
Open your eyes and gaze at me, see me, want me.
Sweat rests on your exposed skin, tiny pools of salty water,
like seawater I want to dive into you.
Disappear under your thrusting waves.
The east has woken me, yet still you dream.
Hurry, wake up soon, I want to melt into you and this sunrise.
© JLB
30/06/2014
772 · May 2015
Heal (10W)
I
Heal
Very
Slowly
And
My
Heart
Heals
Slower
Still
Copyright © JLB
11/05/2015
00:07 BST
769 · Jul 2014
Ennui
Listlessness enshrouds me.
Nothing enraptures me.
Boredom prevails.
Still summer nights lead to a lassitude
so entombed, even retiring to bed is exhaustion.
Too much time on my hands
holds me in a torpor.
Indolent indifference infects me,
and all that I touch.
I'd like to find excitement but even that
is too much hard work.
I sit by the river, watch it sluggishly move,
dip my toe, then my feet, soon I'm almost submerged.
Ophelia like I dance on the drifting water.
Wearily I watch the shore disappear,
under a moon that is now my chandelier.
And an ennui now lost, to a drowning reverie.
© JLB
11/07/2014
765 · May 2014
Anger
Fight or flight?
I'm not a bird, so fight it is.
But, I fight with words
they hurt more
they stay, like parasites,
every little
syllable repeats on a loop
until you not I give up.
Fight me I dare you,
that childish rhyme
"Sticks and stones may
break my bones but
words will never hurt me"
Total *******,
a platitude given out by
elders that know words
hurt, take longer to heal
leave mental squeals
of pain.
******, alpha, grammar
Will break you mentally
will return at close of day to
torment you.
There are no monsters under the bed
they are in your head, planted by me.
© JLB
Anger is an emotional response related to one's psychological interpretation of having been threatened.
764 · Aug 2014
No one observes
Pay attention to detail, for as they say
"The Devil is in the detail"
Pay heed to that small voice inside,
warning you to an unseen force.
Don't shrug off the feeling of being watched,
don't put a shiver running through you down as a breeze.
Take mind, that sometimes our sixth sense is our
safety sense. Don't shrug off a feeling, be guided by it.
Embrace it, learn from it.
Modern fast living has blinded our senses,
negated our intuition, enfeebled us to spiritual guidance.
Science does not hold all the cards.
Nature revers life and should in turn be revered.
You return to the earth, our first mother.
And mothers can be kind or harsh,
so observe kindness to all creatures, plants and people.
As above so below. Note that magic and religion are akin: both require belief that a miracle will occur.
And, remember when you sup with the Devil;
Use a long spoon.
© JLB
24/08/2014
14:13
756 · Apr 2014
Green
A colour of the spectrum
Located between blue and yellow

Poor, green, not as fresh as blue
Or as pretty and bright as yellow

Yet, it's the colour associated with
Springtime, youth, hope and envy.

Ahh, beware the green eyed monster
Jealousy, verdant grows within.

Green the most important colour of Islam
Celtic Ireland, verdant paradise

Camouflage, hide, conceal, all green
Youth hides it's innocence

Innocence, shaken on the boughs
Malachite, verdant, verdigris

How odd this colour means so much to so many
Europe and the US attributes the colour to the Devil sickness & death

But spring is life
Not death

Green for go, green for environment,for
Death, malaise, poison, British racing green

Such a small colour
Such large meaning

Beware the colour green
It has too many meanings, to many connotations
© JLB
752 · May 2014
Urge
Tonight I have an appetite
I want to merge my body
With your soul, and become whole.

To converge upon each other and
discharge our urges until spent
reemerge, renewed, unhurt, purged.

With sleep slurred words
I tell you that I love you
You stroke my hair, and murmur

I love you too hummingbird
Content we fall asleep entwined
Our urge confirmed in love.
© JLB
750 · Apr 2014
Masquerade
To the people that love you
You are perfect
In order for you to see what they see
Takes more than a mirror.
All you see is a reflection
A copy of you caught in time.
You see the flaws
You remember the hateful things you've done
You hear your past crashing down on you
You understand that your face is not the face they see
Your face is an ever changing mask, a lie.
© JLB
749 · Sep 2014
Mirror
I can feel it in the very air I breathe.
I can see it in the blackest night.
I can touch its coldness shrouding me in silk.
I can hear its suggestive words, constantly whispering.
I can taste its need to feed on my fear.
I can and will ignore this monster.
After all,
Its just my reflection.
© JLB
02/09/2014
01:28 BST
748 · Aug 2014
Appetite
Tonight has given me an appetite,
desire craves at my soul, an itch needs scratching.
I desire no food or water, just your body next to me,
in me, your tongue Salaciously squirming in my mouth.
I yearn for you to see that my proclivity is not for chocolate,
but your sweet breath on my body.
I smoulder, tingle, burn at your touch.
I covet you, I long for you, I blaze for you.
Cook for me tonight a sumptuous feast of smouldering avarice.
Devilled debauchery, sautéed sin, overindulge me in you.
Boil my blood by touching me with passion,
feed my famine by ravaging my wanton soul.
I need to feed, I need to thirst, I need to purge with you.
Slake my passion, the only way we know how.
I crave you. I hunger you. I come for you.
© JLB
20/08/2014
00:07 BST
747 · Apr 2014
Dirty Epic
Unearthly longing puts a spell on me
prophetic and poetic words empty my mouth
you've done it again,
dashed and crashed my need of you in one move.
A marriage invitation. Ours?
No, yours and hers.
You'd promised that I was yours
you were mine.
But, you found deeper water to play in,
cream vellum invite
inviting me, the one that you'd ****** for fun
to be an honoured guest at your celebration.
My celebration also, alas for you.
Such beautiful flowers coo the guests
I smile, I've seen these flowers before
at my door.
They'd announce your intentions
frenetic, athletic, kinetic ***
was to ensue.
Hushed ahhhhhs as the bride to be
Stepped out
bridal colours of a ******
shame about the groom.
Numb I watch her walk to you
I know every inch of you
I know that secret quirky part of you
that perversely makes you gentler.
Will she find it?
She's at the altar, I start to feel frenetic
this is wrong I should be her
you caressed me first
you kissed me first
You were my first.
Wait, the vicar is asking for objections
You both turn, look out at us the congregation
I lock eyes with you
I look perky, your mask falters
It's all over bar the screams
You see dear I do object to being an object
who looks for a concealed pocket sized Beretta
at a wedding?
That red stain will be ****** to get out.
© JLB
741 · Jul 2014
How nice
How nice it would be
to walk into the sea
warm waters lapping my knees.
To go further into the surf
the warm sea of this earth
deeper still, until submerged
down deep until purged,
with the drowned of this world
floating and bloating in purgatory.
© JLB
02/07/2014
735 · Jan 2015
Perfect Imperfections
I looked at you tonight and I saw you.
Not the you that's in a photo, or the you at work,
I saw you.
I saw those brown eyes with lashes curled
I saw your soft brown hair flopping over those eyes.
Those eyes that wear glasses, to me a perfect imperfection.
You stared at the distance, seeing nothing at all, yet,
understanding everything.
Slowly with the hands of a pianist you ran your fingers through your hair and took those glasses off.
Yet, still the bewildered stare.
I'd like to say, that, your not seeing me let me in.
I saw your irritating habits;
(i) not pairing socks
(ii) squeezing the toothpaste from the middle
(iii) not clearing away as you cook
(iv) hating my choice of music
(v) hating vegetables
(vi) loving me
~
The list of perfect imperfections goes on,
but as I watch you staring at nothing,
I would say perfection is overrated
You are my perfection.
I'm sorry I had to go and leave you
Life isn't perfect, and neither is death.
And as I watch your tears fall
I realise I only had one perfect imperfection: you.
© JLB
12/01/2015
01:32 GMT
730 · Aug 2014
The window
A window, left open for the breeze
A passage for air, sight and sound.
Window originating from the Old Norse 'vindauga', from 'vindr – wind' and 'auga – eye', i.e., wind eye,
and what the wind sees through our many windows
would cause a chill not stopped by the closing of the Window.

Let's take a look at what the wind sees, and hears through our
open, inviting hole in the wall.
The Gothic inviting rainbow of sights,
the sumptuous smells and desirous sounds.
The sound of love, of desire, the moan and groan of fulfilment.
The sound of hate, the dull punch, the whip crack of a slap.

The sight of happiness, contentment and peace.
The sight of sadness in all its forms, bereavement, pain,
beatings, abuse, of riches and poverty.
Drunks, mothers, fathers, children and babes, lovers and haters.
The dying the dead. The hiding the found.
Those filled with dread and not bread.

The wind's oculus is many shaped.
Geometrically placed for a view to be true.
Yet, reflected in that view is an honesty that the wind carries away.
The wind has learnt to howl, to gust and bluster,
and all we do is try and obscure it's view.
We take no heed of it's keening through the lands.

We are all veiled by curtains and blinds,
but, we are not obscured from the wind's all seeing eye.
© JLB
06/08/2014
19:18 BST
The word window originates from the Old Norse 'vindauga', from 'vindr – wind' and 'auga – eye', i.e., wind eye.
Swedish,the word vindöga remains as a term for a hole through the roof of a hut, and in the Danish language 'vindue' and Norwegian Bokmål 'vindu', the direct link to 'eye' is lost, just like for 'window'.
The Danish word is pronounced fairly similarly to window.
729 · Jan 2018
Doors and their ways
I stepped through the door
Knowing you were no more
I was no more, I was less

No more in this veil of reality
Knowing there were thousands more
Of different hues, different airs, different seasons

This door leads to OZ
This door leads to freedom
And this little doorway goes all the way home

This doorway is occupied
A stranger sleeps fitfully
***** hands clutch its vestments

This door is open and singing can be heard
This door is closed, knock it might open
Open Sesame, Open says I

Duck through this doorway
A wardrobe door, is Narnia waiting?
Doors, doors everywhere and not a lock to pick
© JLB
15/01/2018
04:30 GMT
728 · Aug 2014
Decomposed(10W)
Decaying
Eroding
Composting
Organically
Murdere­d
People
Oxidizing
Souls
Eternally
D**ebauched
© JLB
19/08/2014
01:00 BST
727 · Jun 2015
LOL
LOL
Today I forgot to laugh,
instead I "lol'd"
So, technically I'm a liar.
I neither laughed, nor did so out loud.
It was a platitude
It was polite
It was accepted
It was a lie
It could have been worse, I could've ROFL'd
but that is ridiculous.
So, ***, BTT I lied.
IMHO WFM FWIW B3
Copyright © JLB
04/06/2015
02:34 BST
***=oh my God
BTT=back to topic
IMHO=in my honest opinion
WFM=works for me
FWIW=For what it's worth
B3=Blah,blah,blah
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