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Tatiana Jun 2019
I thought of flowers today when I heard your name
and wondered if I should pick one so you remain
in my head for longer than a beat
of a hummingbird's wings in summer's heat
but I can't allow for the great leap
of my heart to my head
I think I'll go back to bed.
©Tatiana
How are we doing today?
onlylovepoetry Jun 2019
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
a perfect fare thee well love poem to add to the pastures lying fallow on mountain ranges of kisses from heads to toes...June 3, 2019
There’s a place on my hip
Where your hand would fit
A place on my neck
To lay your head
Nuzzling and cuddling
In bed together
Permanent satisfaction
You and me forever
Love you Romeo
Àŧùl May 2019
I dislike referring to it as my accident,
'Cause of so many reasons and losses,
I just can't stop resenting the accident.

I lost my memory & I'm still fighting,
'Cause I first had to relearn speaking,
I retrain my legs – train for balancing.

The brain injuries even made me forget how to swim,
I miss swimming elegantly for long time stretches,
It's not something anyone would usually forget.
My HP Poem #1742
©Atul Kaushal
Orion Lesneski May 2019
Their in my head,
Can’t get them out,
Headaches all day.

Happens four times a week,
Wish they would go away,
And just become weak.
np May 2019
"im not okay with it"
you tell me
and i feel my heart
sink a little.
the feelings i've built for him
creep away a little.
my foggy head
tries to clear a little.
how is it that your words
make me feel so little?
one of those cases where the cliche "the heart wants what the heart wants" hits far too close to home
Hopeless Outlet May 2019
An event
overthink
paranoia
mistrust
momentary clarity
shaken delusion

An event
overthink
paranoia
mistrust
momentary clarity
shaken delusion.....


an event.....
Victoria Edwards May 2019
dangerous is the mind
when you let it wander
sit and contemplate
but the more you ponder
the less you will find
like a lake drained of water
we do not control fate
we just push it farther
away, pesky thoughts!
i don't want you anymore
i want you few and naught!
nothing left to explore
and as i sit here shivering
on the cold bathroom floor
why, oh why, can't i escape this war?
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