head to toe kissing


I   the mundane

moonlight madnesses, a possessive noun,
commissions gravitational pulls that disobey and obey
laws of interstellar loving. The antique modalities once and forever, forever laying still, stilled in places of antiquities and historical need, are thundershower and hail rudely reawakened, the undertow of
pull and push, the yanking hands  of need for others, for others,
it’s the explosive-knowledge, the opening of the old kitbag of perpetual principles, that crazy head to toe kissing is no less necessary, more so, than the computation of the total breaths mundane, unnoticed even now as I write of them, that we will count from that very first, in deed, they are one and the same, like the same
kisses given from head to toe

II   the profane

at the first, the body insists, I am but a long haul trailer, no taxi me,
cargo and passengers, are my quatrain accompaniments,
traveling companions boon, my own toons, too soon disembarked,
songs of parents and lovers, children and others, your visage passed
without your permission, but with your happy encouragement,
to generations that will see things that futurists dare not
even mention, but the profane urge to warn them all, kisses from head to toe, elevates, and overcomes...so when most of my names dusted with forgetfulness, lost in the waves, my scorching soft lips will be recalled just as an airy flight of light brushing upon a newborn’s eyelids just at the moment of birth.  A rustling more felt than heard, the ****** and bruised carrying body will sensate and instantly forget, but nonetheless transmit genetically, that the profane of birth and life renewing can be only washed away, when past and future, recalled and recreated, kisses from head to toes, dripping with softening saltwater tears, a chemical organic reagent of creation,
inside the histories of head to toe kissing

III  the insane

so when, somewhere, some place, a man’s body prepares  
tous ses adieux, his memory foolishly sane and strong,
his wasted paper bag container ship, rust bucketed,
crinkled and wrinkled, skin folding in on itself, hanging to bones
by stretched sinews and tendons that no longer tend to business,
loosened and gangly, they hang on barely to the bare nakedness of
evolutionary processes, mostly not, offset, by the tenderizing effects of kisses, from invisible attendees,  unconscious they,
willingly and unwillingly, offering farewells in actuality...
head to toes, noses to belly buttons, tatted, tattered, and still tasted by dying cells.  It’s insane to think it’s even possible  one retains each and all, but he does, those few given, those few  millions he gave away for cheap belly laughs and poems, decade upon decade accumulated are the totality of him, all of them free and sealed in kisses from head to toes

Gin and tonic please
Gin and tonic please
I just want to bathe in it

She gets hypnotic

At the bar


Away from the
Bar

Actually,
IN the bar,

Just mindlessly staring at
The shapes of a woman sitting on the wood

En

Stool



I can feel it now
like a ****** toons character,  getting hit really hard
The little stars circulating my head...
There’s stars in my eyes, a glow of the iris and a pupil that looks like a freshly polished shoe
I know how I look when I’m drunk okay?

Do you?

I know how I look when I’m drunk, okay?
Do you?

Do you ever look in the mirror?

Do you see your subconscious suddenly rise out of you?

Like a magic trick
Like a witch being summoned,
Accidentally
Because a naive ****** lit
The wrong candle

Sorry I’m off topic now, I can barely focus
But I love hocus pocus
The idea of three sisters being reunited
In the midst of a beautiful ,crisp, purple, nocturnal place
On Halloween....



Do you see your conscious slipping deeper into you though?
Do you?
So now your subconscious is your conscious
The thoughts we could control end up tying us up
Wrapping our mind around everything
A little too tight
Don’t you think?

And sometimes when your conscious is sleeping....
It’s the best feeling, yet at the same time so unnerving, just the worst.

Your sloppy, standing on a slippery *****
Sloppy *****
Lost in sudden, intoxicated hope
But your cheeks are burning
And your hearts on fire
Yearning
You have a sense of clarity
And freedom,
You think you do, at least.


Now I lose control, I knock over a shot glass
And it splashes on her lap
She licks her lips

I don’t like girls.


I start crying because I think of people and diseases.

I don’t like girls.

My eyes well up with tears and she says you look like a ******* baby.
You’re sad and your beautiful.
And your cheeks, so soft and full.

I don’t like girls.

Her lips lock mine
So lightly like a piece of pollen falling in your hair
I could barely feel it
Yet my body responded so swiftly

Gin and tonic
Gin and tonic
As she pours hypnotic

I don’t like girls

But what’s anyone going to do
Without the soft cradling touch of a lady
Who can hold you to her *****
Keep you close like Allie and Noah in the canoe
Let you rest like a cat cradled up unto a crescent moon

And give you the comfort and the freedom to feel peace
Like
A gin and tonic
Gin and tonic

Beautiful, strong women
So hypnotic.

Sindi Kafazi