Aphrodite's recipe for idyllic relations
contains:
cranberries and blackberries
Chia Goji
one whole Vanilla bean
three quarters cup of Macadamias
of course, coconut milk
maple syrup and oats
pumpkin seeds
nutmeg
that's why I
cant make it.

was an aperitif to an aphorism,
an apothecary of aphrodisiacs,
an apiary of my ever-buzzing thoughts.

She slipped streamline as maraschinos
into a Manhattan, that strike of sugar
staining the most bitter days a color no chemical dispels.

She was an enigmatic row of beakers
shelved in an ancient pharmacy
at the base of the Janiculum.

Her shape was incense wisps, her
touch a song sung in 1940s noir,
her locking gaze acrophobia itself.

Alliteration ran thick through her blood,
she painted like Debussy composed.
No single organism in the universe could’ve imposed

anything on her – well, maybe.
Maybe she’s just a girl, the way that I’m a boy –
no air of denigration here.

She was intricate, but altogether simple. Empathetic-yet-
tangible, her character was incredible.
It was not the beauty of her face, the body

that held her mind and laughter,
not the dazed sting in my hand as it cupped
in hers – it was her autotelic way and her hope.

And now her imaginings hang,
framed in my house; little landscapes of the heart she left;
retreats that prove I’ve loved and been loved.

flipping through pages of his mind,
caressing unspoken quotes; I whisper
slang of lust in his ear, ******* his big
ego to the bottom of his page, while his
drool trickles between breast; uttering
syllable after syllable as I re-write his script.

his hardness speaks fluently, inking
parchment with liquid tipped quill, oh! the
thrill as I bend his will, to fluidly flow; dipping
in inkwell of thoughts, penning desires and
want in liquid diatribe of lustful pleasures; like
a moth to flame flickering, as I lick verbs in
hunger to peruse his re-written script;
gripping sheeted pages to uncover his
beguilement; drinking in acknowledgment
of his golden chalice.

I want to decipher his member in autographed
curlicues of calligraphic swirls, teasing and
taunting as he watches, awe-struck; as tongue
etches each throbbing vein in ebonized charcoal,
sketched upon pages of wanton verses making
him scream with passion in prose; on bended
knee tasting my rose, penning his moans in
quotes against throat.

in heat of our passion, pages and scripts are
flipped allowing him to drip ink upon lips as I
whisper softly to his mind; want of him to grind
his neb of ache within my archive, articulating
history of hunger; as limbs mime each cursive
letter, insinuating one vowel at a time; licked
against silken parchment in tender stroked
consonant utterances; shuddering inside  
walls as nouns clench and moans escape
in adjectives shattering mind as wet tendrils
slide down firmness, fore, only she can do this
to me; making me flip volumes of pages while
inside wetness she drips ink all over in
chaptered stages.

each chapter I lick her spine; cornering her
in my mind as a sensual adversary; claiming
her as I untie her collection of copious sighs,
my mind tries to deny copyrights to her library;
as I place her upon my shelf, while against the
wall; ravishing her like the wild section of animal
kingdom, lusting while I watch her body fall
prey to breathless hunger, devouring
and savoring her bookmark; paying full
attention to her glossary of delectability,
that melts upon tongued bilingual text;
her nectar leaves its imprint upon
our handbook of worded aphrodisiacs.

cherishing our artistic volumes in ardency as
we're ready to publish our first draft, but not
before I slide her lubricious cover upon my
shaft; we begin to lay strokes of signatures
against our first editioned copies belonging
soley to us, as we scream in accented jargon
every second I tease; easing in and out,
shouting out in voweled ecstasy; gliding
thickness, gently against taut bookmark.

turning each page with deep thrusts, into her
inkwell; as I swell with friction, speaking in
fluent diction, of addiction to her sweetness;
dripping, as I'm slipping in tomes; thinking
about how she begged me to re-write our script,
spilling ink in delirious closure, in *******
exposure while losing our artistic composure;
writing manuscripts as ink spills upon volumes
of pages in disclosure.

Exercise like Billy Blanks
Then punch it like Anthony Joshua
Meander like Lionel Messi
Drive it like Chrisriano Ronaldo
Play around like Neymar da Silver Santos
Swim a d swim like Michael Phelps
Whatever you do?
Never loose your mojo like Zlatan Ibrahimovic
Eyes on the ball like Serena Williams
Hit it hard like Rafael Nadal
Or do you prefer Tiger woods?
Until you hear her sing like Beyonce Giselle Knowles
Twerk like Cardi B
Don't stop cruising like Michael Shumacher
Except you are in a hurry to meet your ancestors
No need for aphrodisiacs
When you have natural smoothies
Above is how to keep her
Repeat these lines over again
And she'll love you forever

Last night I watched in silence
At the end of the road in forest deep
I hid amongst the trees watching in awe
As gypsies dance while others sleep
Under the violet hue of evening sky
Haloed by evening's golden moon

I watched gypsies dance and sing
As flames from bonfires leaped high in the air
Dark haired women in shawls and beads
Happily dancing and twirling without care
Casting their spells of magic and enchantment
Performing their honeyed seductions
Blended with aphrodisiacs of scent and sound

Gypsy men with kerchiefs around their necks
Hoops of silver adorning their ears, singing joyful songs
Children laughing, dogs barking
As if they’re singing right along
Oh, I so wanted to join them as I stood watching in awe
Envious was I of their freedom and joy

Caravans painted in bright images and colors
Tambourines jingling as velvet shadows danced in the night
Skirts swirling, gold and silver bangles on their arms
Dancing 'round the bonfire's fiery light
Accordions singing, with happy notes from a fiddler's bow
As they sang and danced barefoot under evening moon

In the coming dawn once again...
It will be time for them to pack and move on
With a last meal served...
The caravans are readied to make another journey long

"Gather yourself up gypsy girls
Wonderful as it may seem…
A gypsies’ life is never their own
Time to move on
Time to find another home
You must have gypsy blood
In order to survive"

As their wagons move along dusty trails
They'll be looking for a place to camp
A place to call home... at least for awhile
A place to hang their colored paper lamps
Until...
Suddenly- a cry rings out

"Stop the wagons, ring the bells
We've found the perfect place
The perfect place for magic spells
Tomorrow brings a brand new day!
Let's feast, dance and make merry
Come on let's get things underway"

And so...
The journey goes on
And never ends!

"Gather yourself up gypsy girls
Wonderful as it may seem…
A gypsies’ life is never their own
Time to move on, time to leave
Time to find another home
You must have gypsy blood
In order to survive"

Oh, planet of the azure,
Cypriot sands,
Nordic beauty,
Amazonian lands,
Nile river plains,
It’s plain to see that our world
is a paradise for the
paradisiacs and the aphrodisiacs,
The business suited men,
The wedding dressed women,
The children of the soil.

But also plain to see are the
oil-stricken sands,
Viking battlegrounds,
Deforested lands,
Dry river plains.
Unknowns and ****** deviants,
Power hungry animals,
Divorce cases to be,
Already dead.

Oh, land of the azure,
Strike up a match and burn us all down,
Won’t you?

Oh, paradise world,
A giant floating blue pearl,
Cut us all down and burn our ashes?

Let us make amends,
Blue and green marble,
For we have doubted your sands,
Lands, and beauty,
We have doubted them whilst we have stood upon them.

For we are too tall to see what heaven lies beneath our feet,
And we look to the skies for heaven whilst we are among angels.

Can you taste them?
Those slow melting morsels of sugar,
just lingering on the corners of your mouth...

You let them drip from your spoon,
let them roll off your tongue
and dress your intentions.
As they try and undress me...

Everything's inviting,
the presentation, the flavor, the texture...
Like Bartlett pears:
"Granules of sugary sand, made to melt and fill every taste bud."

The warmth of your phrasing,
reassuring with their momentary high
and their lingering desire for more...

Heavy with mood,
rich with aphrodisiacs'
and smooth like that cocky-*** grin...

These words are like ants,
attracted to the smell of decadence...
Sweet rotting decadence...

Watch them decay,
as the truth beneath...
Reveals the lack of sustenance.

Live on these words?
On these hollow, sugar-coated statements,
and be satisfied?
*******.

I need more than that.

You left me nauseous,
and filled with this stain...

Keep rolling those lines,
make them smooth and inviting,
make them enticing,
make them all yours....

Never again,
will I indulge you.

I need a tall drink of water,
the wind wiping through my hair,
and this pavement,

To guide my sullied feet,
as I "beat on against the current..."
of my self-indulgent past.

Shaman's see visions of heinous onslaught,
No pormonteaus of buried boon!!!
Priests and rabbis lick thine clothe,
Ebbing closer to emptied rooms!!!

Young girls and boys burlesque in their costumes,
Mother and father do buck,
Living in hell in thine own living room,
Fast lives, cars and trucks!

Aphrodisiacs they put in their vein,
Tears dry the carpets,
Entertainers dance in thy rain,
Moribund, still a lonesome carcass!!!

Covetednous, they've made as their gods,
Fast foods, no life,
Intimance gone!!!!

A band to wear with crested jewels,
Yet what art they with no meaning?
Say thy affiance all that thou wilt,
Still stuck in the land of the dreaming!!!!

Mutagens and fabricators to selves,
Clouds come with no pour down,
The poor line the street for the corner spells,
Doeth you giveth them love?
Or throw them in cells?

Devotee to Christ,
Hath thou given advice?
Yet still taketh not thy own?
Your bloods spilt to the mass of drules,
Still dont want to be alone!!!

Trammels your in,
In trammels you'll sin,
In trammels you will die or awake once again!!!!

1.20.

I wrote my
own artist
agreement
Blending the
four primal
colours of war

I’m rewriting
the treaties
Remixes of
aphrodisiacs
My remedies
for life keep
giving me
success

Call me Aphrodite chain smoking
cigarettes
The Lone Orchid of frost bitten
sunsets

I’m the only
one in
one of
a kind
A one hit
wonder that
echos forever
with time

Mesmerizing
Gods and
consolations
I am the
Divine
inspiration

This weak
ecosystem has
made me
vicious again
I wanna see
people get
a bit more
independent

Remove their
denial
See the truth
in the ways
of survival

This is next
level chest
and I’m always
six steps
ahead
When I’m behind
that’s when I
attack at
my best

My bullet proof
**** rate
I’ll take you
out by the neck

Call me up
Say what?

I’ll always be
that crazy
****
saying whatever
it is I want

Ring.Ring.
My telephone
never stops
And I’m never
picking it up
Later I might
hit you
back up

Right now
I’m busy
getting
unplugged

The day the starfish were high,
we were swimming towards the sun
and nirvana was only a stroke away.

We carried stories in our stomaches
and let them bubble up from our throats
until we could see them wrap around
the waists of street venders.

The merry-go-round music tangled in my hair
but I never wanted to shake it out.

Your breath was in my lungs
when the citrus-******* sunshine
made your heart skip a beat.

Our feet burned black on the board walk
when we walked too far,
looking for where the ocean herself was born.

When the mermaids called our names,
we waded through tide pools,
let seaweed grow around our ankles
and promised never to uproot them.

And finally the seagulls brought us
aphrodisiacs from the Gods
so we climbed the lightning bolts
and became a new constellation.

Everything on this gelid morning speaks only dead languages.
Change your mind. Consider it a beguilingly blank canvas.
Slather it with the random pigments of your imagination.
Go for a stroll and practice random acts of sadistic charity.
Inhale the exquisite frondescence of naked branches.
Focus your neurons on everything you have forgotten.
******* incessantly to Mozart's Requiem. Honor his memory.
Unleash your nukes. Annihilate Canada. Destroy winter for good.
Make your lover a garland of cassowary feathers. Impress her.
Concentrate on growing horrifically profuse ***** hair.
Study the nonexistent texts of forgotten Uzbecki ascetics.
Raise fearsome armies of rabid Chinese lawn gnomes. Attack.
Try to knit String Theory while contemplating theoretical macramé.
Drink cider vinegar to defuse the carcinogenic dangers of politics.
Attempt to complete a peace treaty with gravity. Concede nothing.
Build a launch pad. Hurl rusting Ramblers into low earth orbit.
Collect ingredients. Home brew ******, absinthe and aphrodisiacs.
Test drive a luxury submarine in your neighbor's swimming pool.
Smash the endless contemporary Conga Line of Dumb. Think about it.
Surrender to uncommon sense for a change. Avoid the ordinary.
Give peace a chance. Endless war has left it lonely and depressed.
Admit that everyone is well and truly ******. Relax. Breathe.
Proclaim the advent of the poetry of the apocalypse,
but take care not to write any of it down yet. Go slowly.
Tomorrow is another day to be filled. Keep some options open.

I'm the reclusive wreck-loose
Who's about to let loose
And instigate and substantiate the fact that society's narrow mindedness is there for us to instantiate that we ourselves have to promote understanding and antiquate hate
Accidents happened and mistakes were made

They take a sardonic look at the schematics of a systematic syncopated symmetry    
They say we dare not deviate from the Fibonacci Sequence
But to matriculate
And be quick on the uptake
Then add ourselves to the division of labour

I make empirical claims to disarm ephemeral things
Fashion
Technology
Music
Life as a whole
But then I'm the *******
They salt the songbird's tail
Clipping the properties of personality

"Bide your time so you don't do anything foolish and bite your tongue so you don't say anything you may regret"
But this is this part of the cocoon effect  
Waiting to see all the failed racists
After this metaphysical metamorphosis
So modern
So contemporary
It's classic
Soon to be ancient
The adages and aesthetic aphrodisiacs

'Who do you want to be when you grow up?"
"What do you want to be when you grow up"

"I want to be civilization as you know it..or as you like it"

Peradam-  Something that shows itself to those who truly seek it.

Two pills later with droopy eyes,
Cinnamon aphrodisiacs,
Candles that smell like your skin when you bury your nails in my thighs and seek some greater vengeance,
Sun-kissed skin and the muscles of a lover (and a fighter,
because what is love without fighting).

Heaven in copper pools,
except I've never believed in God.

You were sitting there,
Golden like a goddess,
With your eyes wagging lazily
Between the clutter and clatter of
Four jagged edges that made up
One sticky bartop.

The piano bounced in heavy thumps and steps
Like six inch heels
On a graceless girl
Who is dragged through the streets
Only by the sweet bait
Of a lover's giggle
To a hotel room that feels
A lot like home.

Your hands and face and eyes
Are pink as they pick through the pile,
Slotting in and out of Coach and Lucky
For a little black dress.
The thinning hallway smells like burnt cigarettes
And used condoms.

Arms folded like laundry,
Hair falling like linen,
I can smell the Coco and pushed out ahs
Fogging up my sight, dizzying and sultry,
As you dive beneath what feels like a thousand white sheets.
Sticky, wire-lashes sink
Under mountain-high, colored-cotton threads.

Your eyes are the glow of a casino.
You look right at me,
And I've won the lottery.

We see each other time to time
New recently, old friend of mine
Each separately caught in a vice
Having same goal; make the world nice
And neither man would be naive
or gullible that he'd believe
Our World is Just, and a fair place
While living lives that are disgraced

If ears I've bent; a tale for thee
Crooked it's not or make believe
Beginning of a good tale goes
'Twas once upon a time or so'
In kingdom far as eyes could see
There lived two sets of Kings and Queens
Empires reaching far and vast
Not once before had their lives past

Each King sat high upon his throne
Great charity; for this was known
So much so that they were renamed
Not shying from spotlight and fame
"King Midas"; the title given
A moniker by far fitting
Not hands held out but standing near
Closest of "friends" quite insincere

Always there was one if not two
Surrounded themselves with a crew
On shoulders they would carry him
That's when the ending would begin
A life that's full; would self-indulge
Within his pants they'd spot the bulge
Eyes growing wide; hearts filled with lust
And with each other fought and fussed

To surpass this, nothing exists
Not one thing higher on the list
Of aphrodisiacs is known
Gets them to beg and wail or moan
The thickness almost splits the seems
Allowing one to see the green
No, not the Hulk but it's a beast
Maker of wars; killer of peace
In their hands wanted, once they see
The thick stack of luscious money

But once the tide begins to turn
Since through that money they had burn
They're quick to leave or toss him off
If he needs them, replied in scoff
A man of wisdom, thought he was
Life filled with pain, so get a buzz
For you numbing will guarantee
All of the hurt will quickly leave

Not many pains greater than this
Seductive is betrayal's kiss
There's strength in numbers; that is true
In time of need they will leave you
To foot the bill; To pay the price
Not just with money; With your life
As struggles hit and hardships fall
No one will help ; No one to call

Oh how the mighty have fallen
Coyotes lunge; Vultures mauling
When tripped up started to stumble
Offering help? Instead they pummeled
Never thought life would be this
If only one answered his wish
They saw him fall; they could have helped
Instead they kicked him as he knelt

He staggered, trying to get up
Himself gather; that's when they struck
And pushing him much further down
Each strike drove closer to the ground
They were his friends or so he thought
But wasn't real; short time was bought
A shattered man left in their wake
Cause not one minute they could take

There was a chance he could bounce back
Changing the course; get life on track
Instead he can't cut from himself
The concrete block that was his wealth
Tremendous love that he had once
Family and friends; played for a dunce
He was a fool for he believed
Was innocent; Somewhat naive

Thought people, by nature, were good
But found evil in its place stood
If warning received at the start
Could stop them from breaking his heart
As a blind man, kindness he dealt
They took advantage; Stole with stealth
A hard life but there's no amount
His values would never discount

No dollar sum he would receive
Where morals or integrity
He'd have to waiver; Put on pause
These are the most important "laws"
Dictating for the world to know
No matter what you say or show
This "takes the cake" and it transcends
Can't justify or spin and bend

His character; What makes a man
Can knock him down but he'll still stand
It doesn't matter what's served up
All might be gone; World takes your stuff
But no way for these to be stripped
Naked and starved with heart that's ripped
He goes forward with smiling face
"I am not them"; The ones disgraced

Her accent, an aphrodisiac brings that torment back of long ago,
I know rage in every hormone when I hear her on the telephone and when she speaks it feels as if her body's leaking words that only she knows I've been seeking.
A latitude, degree or two and she always knows just what to do.
I'm pinned on strings and don't understand whose hands go where and what and why
**** or cure and curse the poor she knows exactly who I am.
Crack me open, look inside, here is where I figure out the places I can hide.
She finds me, attacks me with her aphrodisiacs and I am lost to pheromones and her voice when I'm the telephone.