Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
vircapio gale Oct 2013
some rabbit holes
go only so deep

then  mycelium


i want you in this bliss
vircapio gale Sep 2013
how comfortable it is to sit here knowing what to say,
as if this lump in my throat had a voice of its own,
or was engraved with symbols, maudlin as my eyes,
and i could read them clearly.

this artifact was found by accident
in some ancient village of self-images
   --used for chipping off pieces of self.

do i interpret my own primitivity well?

fragments glint unburied
under heavy breathing firelight.
loud, blinding,
it makes the night an iridescent one.
i rave some, dance-invent discovery, then quiet in the fade.

there is a core of me, to this accumulation ventured..
i'm afraid i only guess though,
like groping in the night.

nails in hair, the boney trail i leave behind
may cure the barrenness

i'm feeling differently now, having explored darkness
sharpness in the dirt.
vircapio gale Sep 2013
the poem is just a con.
i want you for my one.
read aloud to takemeintoyou,
taboo, taboo, taboo, taboo

the *** is just an act.
this way, that  --relax.
cry aloud and takeitintoyou,
taboo taboo taboo  taboo

this game is all we have.
make it as it is.
write out loud and shout about
taboo taboo and more taboo

that war is just a fact.
we take it, make it something else.
speak out now, or never feel allowed
taboo taboo your own taboo
vircapio gale Sep 2013
1)
this part sparkles -- like your smile
which sparks a grin in me
to heat the heart and ribbed
adore
the laughter waiting in the covers
from our wink and whisper
beds of personalities
spring and comfort, stain and dust
but love, sweet love to swoon away
and lust the anchorage of speaking
as we do each tone and syllable
a light, touch, tinge to waken flames
and dancing light
familiar of my origins
a conjured shape in what you single out
each focus frame of sentence what
to what we ought to do
what sunday shall we both approve?
in sync we dialogue
in mood of dire wrack of blah
in boon of happy overflow
our musing 'tra la la'
ideas, toys to turn and pirouette
or taunt the sun to match our beaming fun

2)
this part sparkles too,
but gives itself to me
so i might quench the burning
brightly lighting sultry flesh
i gaze, and overyearn
to tumble in the sheets
that billow layers--layer-winds of time
you tug and pull i toss and tear away
to open bare the inward soft
that peach-like drips from chin
in breathless constantly
voracious tonguing whim
an asterisk for starburst flick delight
salts deeply into savor sweet
the ****-surge powers me in your embrace
to deep, deep clenching ahh
our skin undone as with a solar flare
across the earth a flood of radiating us
lips and bones
coalescent sense
no match for 'bliss'
or moan moan moan
unending veins traverse to toetip axon
ancient crown of hugs from two to one

3)
this part Is the whole
unknown we meet again
again, again from words
to trusting vasts  poetic patience
chance to sound the voice of
yearning manifest from tips to core
and back again we plan on more
in hoping wonder possibles revised
the real of you too natural
to rebuke the care beyond
the searching for
to inhale sight of being there
to step from cab
and offer kindness
mystery of universe
transmuted into meeting once,
twice, every moment new
you bring an often baffling array
of sublime other than i knew
you reinvent me too
vircapio gale Sep 2013
(in life)

who am i to warm a cave of darkness with my lust?
or assume your darkness mine to dissipate?
as if a sacred candle burned behind the windows of my heart
and ****** its light through tip of flame beyond
,above the piercing point to spark our confirmation in a universal eye

invisible, but seen as heat you flail about
and cause to quake the melting, sliding crust i am

you have wandered by to rupture me from my serene espy.
to quarrel with mycenterself i turned into myself i am a fool,
how can a taint intention claim essential gravity to good?
encumbered with a blinding zeal
i almost rage amid to satisfy
irrupt, and only drape with words i barely see defined

to justify the greed
in unknown passions gathered out to sun,
eyes aglint of golden maxims worn
by public distorts, magisters of lies
spilling over paths..the voyeuristic farce of virtuosity and virtue mating there
commodities of ****** pride and shame
that cater to ambition's lurid lure:

massively conjoined our worlds, aswirl
transform the pulsar-vortex at the base of me
from threaten-fount to million-twiching node
it sears the face from all our superficial doubts,
gluts us writhing mercy in oblivion.

...transparency collects an inner soot
as we devour red-tip wicks in wax we puddle with our sport--
the outer glass respires steam into the winter nights
--hot against the skin
in flesh embarking in that window *** at last,
we smudge our bodies over every icy pane
--entwined, concupiscent flames
to blacken out the world we claim as only there for us




.
vircapio gale Sep 2013
(in death)

hard muscle, lacquer-dark ..yearning, did she swoon?
did she think it was for her?  
what form  her yielding
to feel her limbs  so soft
lightly stroke  each  single  dead  hair  of his
kiss his toenails wet with tears
knees, hips and stiff  tasteless *******
interlace his wooden fingers
scream her teeth on his?

did she stare for long?
see her soul reflected  
past his lashes
in those brilliant  lifelike eyes
and clutch her aging breast
as if the glass of Masakichi's lasting mien would give her love again
whose decades' fashioning had widowed her before his death?




.
*Hananuma Masakichi was a Japanese sculptor who, believing that he was dying from tuberculosis, sculpted a near-identical, life-size statue of himself as a gift to the woman he loved. Completed in 1885, it consisted of thousands of tiny wooden pegs and dovetail joints, connected with glue. No joint is visible on the statue, and it is lacquered to show every detail of Masakichi, including muscle, bone and vein. He manufactured anatomically correct glass eyeballs for the statue, drilled individual holes to represent the pores of the skin, and inserted his own corresponding hair. He also gave it his sculpting tool, his own clothes, spectacles, fingernails, toenails, and teeth.
vircapio gale Sep 2013
(history)

Quell the bard was silken-clad and ever young.
her flute connected earth and sky,
tamed lightning in the higher notes..
her ancient horse would winnie to her song
of endless breath she blew her story even into stone.
having borne the stigmas of a *****
her martial prowess struck,
trampled disrespect to cacophonic dust
while over hills and vales he carried her--
a love-sick equine heart at peace at last upon the road
between her thighs, commanded loyalty of beasts and men.
none claimed her for their own,
though some risked instant death to try

..stirge beaks tap on bones and rock
to seek corrupted blood of elven kings,
who having reigned and fallen
to a royal troglodyte of dragon times,
paint each eon with ambivalence...
i conjure what my heritage beholds
--reclusive double-tongue to hoard all words,
reinvent religions for a lark

what legend am i privy to the making of
that hasn't had its underwires stripped,
hung about a square in lewd display of Fact
to purge a sense of mystery awry?

i am alone within my fantasy.
its symbols still mythologize my i.
i will not bare it here, or anywhere--
concealment is its freedom, and its boon--
in which a frame of tenuous material appears

where antidote addictions cycle musically,
the timeline's summoning
a game of recompense, compensating wanderlust
won by whim and licorice for thought;
it finds familiarity untamed--
adolescent anchorage aweigh--
adventures into wildernesses lost




.
*stirge: a bird, bat or mosquito-like monster with a long proboscis which ***** blood from its prey
Next page