Members
I prefer to write it all out, not talk about it. Poetry belongs to the shadows.
Poems
Cyclone Wolfok Baltimore
Aug 2019
Pour savoir le jour et l'heure
Où tu es plus portée à l'amour
J'ai entrepris la lecture des Secrets de l'Amour, du poète Koka
Et je sais désormais que tu es femme-lotus
Volupté Parfaite comme il n'en existe qu'une sur un million
Tu me provoques, tu me charmes, tu me fascines
Tu me subjugues, tu es ma Muse, ma courtisane de haut rang
Tu possèdes les soixante-quatre arts libéraux
Et les trente-deux modes musicaux de Radha,
Amante de Krishna,
Tu es multiple de huit, ma biche-jument-éléphante
Tu es magique et ensorceleuse
Tu t'appelles Padmini, Ganika
Tu es espiègle , tu es folâtre, ma Nanyika
Avec toi je peux m'unir sans péché
Ma pudique impudique
Car tu sais tout ce qu'on peut faire
Quand les lumières sont éteintes
Et les passions enflammées.
Tu sais apprendre à parler aux perroquets et aux sansonnets
Tu pratiques les combats de coqs, de cailles et de pigeons
Tout comme les combats de la langue
Tu sais faire un carrosse avec des fleurs.
Je ne sais encore si je suis homme-bleu, Homme-lièvre ou homme-cerf
Moi qui me croyais homme-raccoon,
Homme-orphie et homme-mangouste
J'ai baisé l'image de ton ombre portée
Sur l'oreiller rose ce matin
Un baiser de déclaration
Un plaisir sans merci et sans trève
Que ton ombre m'a rendu
En me besognant
De la langue, des mains et des pieds
Et de toutes nos parties honteuses comme honnêtes
Baiser pour baiser,
Caresse pour caresse,
Coup pour coup,
Corps pour corps,
Yoni pour lingam !
Que d'égratignures tu m'as infligées de tes ongles acérés
La patte de paon et le saut du lièvre
Me marquent à jamais
Et je t'ai imprimé sur ta chair la feuille de lotus bleu.
Et de morsures en morsures
J'ai saisi avec mes lèvres tes deux lèvres
Tandis que tu jouais à me saisir la lèvre inférieure.
Si tu rêves comme moi d'impudiques amours
Si tu rêves comme moi d'écrire un nouveau chapitre
Aux huit cents vers du Ratira-Hasya,
Les Secrets de l'Amour, du poète Koka,
Retrouvons nous en congrès, veux-tu,
Avant que l'été ne s'achève
Au congrès de la femme-lynx-lotus et de l'homme-raccoon-mangouste
Si tu rêves d'impudiques amours
Si tu veux que je chante ta semence d'amour
Ton kama solila, mélange de lys et de musc.
Où tu es plus portée à l'amour
J'ai entrepris la lecture des Secrets de l'Amour, du poète Koka
Et je sais désormais que tu es femme-lotus
Volupté Parfaite comme il n'en existe qu'une sur un million
Tu me provoques, tu me charmes, tu me fascines
Tu me subjugues, tu es ma Muse, ma courtisane de haut rang
Tu possèdes les soixante-quatre arts libéraux
Et les trente-deux modes musicaux de Radha,
Amante de Krishna,
Tu es multiple de huit, ma biche-jument-éléphante
Tu es magique et ensorceleuse
Tu t'appelles Padmini, Ganika
Tu es espiègle , tu es folâtre, ma Nanyika
Avec toi je peux m'unir sans péché
Ma pudique impudique
Car tu sais tout ce qu'on peut faire
Quand les lumières sont éteintes
Et les passions enflammées.
Tu sais apprendre à parler aux perroquets et aux sansonnets
Tu pratiques les combats de coqs, de cailles et de pigeons
Tout comme les combats de la langue
Tu sais faire un carrosse avec des fleurs.
Je ne sais encore si je suis homme-bleu, Homme-lièvre ou homme-cerf
Moi qui me croyais homme-raccoon,
Homme-orphie et homme-mangouste
J'ai baisé l'image de ton ombre portée
Sur l'oreiller rose ce matin
Un baiser de déclaration
Un plaisir sans merci et sans trève
Que ton ombre m'a rendu
En me besognant
De la langue, des mains et des pieds
Et de toutes nos parties honteuses comme honnêtes
Baiser pour baiser,
Caresse pour caresse,
Coup pour coup,
Corps pour corps,
Yoni pour lingam !
Que d'égratignures tu m'as infligées de tes ongles acérés
La patte de paon et le saut du lièvre
Me marquent à jamais
Et je t'ai imprimé sur ta chair la feuille de lotus bleu.
Et de morsures en morsures
J'ai saisi avec mes lèvres tes deux lèvres
Tandis que tu jouais à me saisir la lèvre inférieure.
Si tu rêves comme moi d'impudiques amours
Si tu rêves comme moi d'écrire un nouveau chapitre
Aux huit cents vers du Ratira-Hasya,
Les Secrets de l'Amour, du poète Koka,
Retrouvons nous en congrès, veux-tu,
Avant que l'été ne s'achève
Au congrès de la femme-lynx-lotus et de l'homme-raccoon-mangouste
Si tu rêves d'impudiques amours
Si tu veux que je chante ta semence d'amour
Ton kama solila, mélange de lys et de musc.
Sarah Margaret Nov 2013
Jefferson Air;lane
Sarah Margaret
Nov 2013
I've been hunting
In the forest of dreams,
Getting drunk and
Listening to Jefferson Airplane
For the very first time.
It's a night for dreaming I suppose. I've just broken the barriers of love for a man I've known so long that I've nearly forgotten who he is. A piece of furniture in my strange little room.
I'll make a list
Of the things I see here
Apart from his lingering eyes:
A musc stand
A jewelry box
A chair
A dress - Not mine, though it was once
Young girls and their blues
Come to me from the feather in the meadow.
Listen for the ticking of my footsteps.
That's poetry.
God that's poetry.
Why can't I write like that?
It's like looking my enemy in those bright, tremoring eyes
And facing my envy with my ego and my ahmmer
That's beauty.
God she's beautiful.
Why can't I be beautiful like her?
Why can't I appreciate Jefferson Airplane like she does?
I've convinced myself that I hate her for her moral depravity.
For so liberally spreading her character and her legs.
I know I hate her because I hate myself.
And because everyone loves her, not me.
. Ad were I half the human being I portray, none of this would matter.
Understanding is a virtue hard to come by.
You could teach me how to love if you try.
My husband will sleep with his head all buried down and at the foot of his bead.
I'm certain I'll abuse him, emotionally at least
He'll have to be the hardest or softest poor ******* tht ever lived.
I tread on everyone's good emotional graces with my obtinance and determination in being obstinate.
It is, as it always will be, about my happiness.
I'd rather have my country die for me.
Stream of confidence:
Consciousness and the problem with it is that my mind moves faster han my hand can crsft
Door, bell, whistle, heart, *****, therapy, tea, love, mint, ice cream, mother, father, ring, matrimony, and there it ends.
Matters only of the heart.
I'll eventually ***** all of the rest of the things that I haven't wanted to say to anyone anyway.
I feel as though someone is in this room with me
Maybe that's just the distortion pedal talking.
Listen to those drums
Like a heartbeat
Like a war cry
I swear the Earth just moved from beneath my soul.
Once, I bet, I;ve had that kind of primal instinct
A hunter
After his dream game
A drunken huntsman never misses his mark
In the forest of dreams,
Getting drunk and
Listening to Jefferson Airplane
For the very first time.
It's a night for dreaming I suppose. I've just broken the barriers of love for a man I've known so long that I've nearly forgotten who he is. A piece of furniture in my strange little room.
I'll make a list
Of the things I see here
Apart from his lingering eyes:
A musc stand
A jewelry box
A chair
A dress - Not mine, though it was once
Young girls and their blues
Come to me from the feather in the meadow.
Listen for the ticking of my footsteps.
That's poetry.
God that's poetry.
Why can't I write like that?
It's like looking my enemy in those bright, tremoring eyes
And facing my envy with my ego and my ahmmer
That's beauty.
God she's beautiful.
Why can't I be beautiful like her?
Why can't I appreciate Jefferson Airplane like she does?
I've convinced myself that I hate her for her moral depravity.
For so liberally spreading her character and her legs.
I know I hate her because I hate myself.
And because everyone loves her, not me.
. Ad were I half the human being I portray, none of this would matter.
Understanding is a virtue hard to come by.
You could teach me how to love if you try.
My husband will sleep with his head all buried down and at the foot of his bead.
I'm certain I'll abuse him, emotionally at least
He'll have to be the hardest or softest poor ******* tht ever lived.
I tread on everyone's good emotional graces with my obtinance and determination in being obstinate.
It is, as it always will be, about my happiness.
I'd rather have my country die for me.
Stream of confidence:
Consciousness and the problem with it is that my mind moves faster han my hand can crsft
Door, bell, whistle, heart, *****, therapy, tea, love, mint, ice cream, mother, father, ring, matrimony, and there it ends.
Matters only of the heart.
I'll eventually ***** all of the rest of the things that I haven't wanted to say to anyone anyway.
I feel as though someone is in this room with me
Maybe that's just the distortion pedal talking.
Listen to those drums
Like a heartbeat
Like a war cry
I swear the Earth just moved from beneath my soul.
Once, I bet, I;ve had that kind of primal instinct
A hunter
After his dream game
A drunken huntsman never misses his mark