365Nectar #60  Devour Me        
Fri. November 22, 2013  9:18 P.M.


Devour me...

A provocative passionate pouring
of pillaging and plundering...
A pleasing prowling
of a piercing plunderer...
A lovely, limp nymph
laid upon a sizzling alter...
Smoldering...
Awakening all the senses
a choking of lust
unleashes exhilarating
and

envelops you...

Effortlessly evoking ethereal...
a sinister seduction
seductively seduces
and hungry hips
breakdance with hysterical
Stimulating a surreal surge of a sweet seeping...
waiting...

impatiently...

For you to chisel
an unimaginable devouring...

S slow steady climb to the summit
of the ultimate ******...
Time-
Time-
Time... a tool to employ flamboyantly...
immediately...

eargerly...

Expose my conquered heart
that leaks
of streams
of cream
of succulent sensation...

Expose my tamed moistness
that whispery whines
as you build a legacy
of torturous licking....

Seductively...

Slithering in spicy spirals
of stirring screams
from stormy shivers
of steamy anticipation
of your redefining touch...

Suddenly...
drowning in the sticky sensation
of all that is us...
A tender luscious love liquefying flesh
and penetrating souls...

We blend in blazing bliss
tapping taboo for titillating thrills
you rock a rowdy ravishing
inside me...

I whisper wet whimpers
and beg for bitten breast...
Our wrestling hips
hug, *****, and groan a hungry growling...
Pounded into saturated submission
I linger in lubricating dreams
for you-
to...

devour me.

On a royal visit by chance
Queen Liz spots a crew who breakdance
She throws down her bag
And cries 'sod one's jet lag'
'Dagnammit, I'm gonna get up n prance!'

Rock step, trip-le, trip-le*
              Rock step, trip-le, trip-le

Judah bids us "Good morning!" at nine at night,
He's like Fred Astaire,
Big moves and big ears.

Dylan is late coming in,
Sliding out of his leather jacket with a sour expression -
He's too cool for this game.

Lindsey drags in the speaker system,
All goofy grins and ugly sweaters,
And she's so happy to see us.

Rock step, trip-le, trip-le

Andy with his slick moves
and slicker hair.

Matt who always smelled strange
but lost to Kevin.

Susan with her tight, swinging hips
and constant critiques.

Pete thinks he can do this,
and then breaks your arm.

Caleb concentrates too hard,
and tries not to look you in the eyes.

Josh gets bored with the basics,
deciding to breakdance instead.

Rock step, trip-le, trip-le
                Rock step, trip-le, trip-le

And after an hour of being passed from one lead to the next
Like a hot potato,
And then standing with your back against the basement wall
During the free-for-all,
You decide you rather be studying algebra
and leave.

Lindsey waves goodbye.

The invatation seemed strange  but im always up for a weekend retreat.
The boys at the pub looked at me as if i had totally lost the few marbles
i had.

fishing was a favorite sport of mine for it was more like a reason to
go boat riding  and  drink and how i did enjoy water sports.
Mr E   had invited us all yet my fellow amigos  seemed to be lacking
my sense of adventure.

Gary droped me off well more like kicked me out
about half way as the pills started to kick in  and he belived
I was a alien  lizard  secretly on a mission to steal his mind and take it to
mexico.

So as I hit the ground rolling like a tumble **** taking out a few mail boxes   and  one of thoose bike riding Lance Armstrong  wanna be dorks.
I worry bout men who dress like gay power rangers
the buts stuck up in the air wearing spandex.

Well after a relaxing  thirty mile walk.
almost sober I stood faceto face with MR .E
And althogh kinda odd for fishing attire  his cheeta thong
and matching cape  were a sight to be seen.

But  comfort first is i always say.
I never knew lady GaGa  had her own signiture bass boat very stylish this Mr  E was indeed.

And I wasnt much for girly drinks  but dam near sober for the first time since i was  ten i would drink almost anything.
but the man servant in chaps in chains was making me wonder if these
people werent you know  christians  or thoose scientolligist *******
you know thoose lady doctors  who women  have to go to.

It was when Mr E got a nibble on his  bedazzled  fishing
rod  that caused some alarm.
As he pulled that bass in  he let out a ear piercing scream louder
Mariah Carrey.

As this oxyen starved creature flopped on the floor  like Gonzo
trying to breakdance Mr Es  man servant began to beat the fish
with some sort of vibrating oddly shaped stick.
My God man  what is this forplay?

I couldnt stand it anymore these  people although
fashion forward  were just to much i jumped ship
making my way to shore.

And as i began to make  my dripping track to the nearest bar.
He was apon me like some  strange  cheetah  dam these spray tanned  christians were fast.    

It was a struggle of epic movie of the week proportions
I feared for more than my life.
I barely escaped  with my clothes and senses.
Well with my clothes that is.

And  as I walked  into the pub shakenbut thankfully
not stirred.
When asked to sit down and share a drink i choose to stand.
Cause of uhh back issues.

And as that demon jukebox  began to play do you
really wanna hurt me it quickly changed it's tune
for even Gonzo has his limts.

I dont belive I'll go fishing again.
For I learned its a contact sport.
Dam  scientologist.

I’m standing on one leg in my slammin’ salmon pink room, with my curvy waterbed, staring at the silly, swaying Appalachia hillbilly trees
That laugh with a country accent that slows down and up and down and
I’ve never been more scared of that picture by Van Gogh
The skeleton man with a cigarette in his mouth
Like a thinner Freud! (Like a doctor)!
My frenzied scribbling is like an ****** to a forty-something housewife that enjoys
Late nights drinking wine and Vicodin cocktails to give her some
Semblance of normalcy (Necks suckling over me like rainbow breakdance)
Their voices are back again…
They’re crowding all around me…
These walls These walls
Speak to me
These walls These walls

I like the pink walls because they talk to me in my mom’s voice
And
when they get too loud,
God sits quietly in my coffee cup and whispers to the nurses
Brightly, angrily! He tells that silly Lilly to
Make him take his medicine
And like an obedient child,
Or a bride to be…
I do
Now when I stare out my window, the trees no longer laugh
Skull with Cigarette becomes a soft reminder of home
Which reminds me to pick up the cordless landline and call my mother
To tell her that everything is quiet now and that
My soft, white bed is made and my room is clean now for her to come visit tomorrow
So I lay my head down and fall asleep
Cradled by walls of silence

all we have is tonight
we have no time left
lets explore
lets make love
while we still can
because the clock is ticking
and my heart is
doing the charleston
while trying to breakdance
and all i can think about
is how i might never see you again
and how that will affect me
and if it will even affect you
i never know why
but i never think the person i love
really loves me
and they never think
that i love them
even though i would do anything
just to see them smile
just to hear them laugh
even if all we have is tonight
even if there is no time left

Life is a perpetual party.
Dance alone if you
find no dance partner.
Dance with the fat girl
everyone calls ugly Betty.
Try not to lift her up
If you don't want to hear
your ribs or shoulders pop.
Try to swing around her
and come face to face.
Wink and say thanks for
the beautiful moves baby.
She will melt and blush,
for you've made her happy.

Life is a perpetual party.
Come dressed as a clown
or suit up in a fancy suit.
Party wild and get drunk.
Dance all night if you wish,
retire early if you want.
Make sure you steal the show
Or be crown the best.
Make sure you out dance
yourself and the rest,
Sing along with the songs
you like and do it well.
Regardless of the pitch
Or the tune of your voice,
Own that song even
If you don't know the
Wordings and the timing.

Life is a perpetual party,
Everyone got invited by
He who planned the gig.
So rise to your own feet,
Jump to your far right,
Jump to your nearest left.
Rock to sound and beat
and do the split or boogie.
Breakdance if you have
the time and chance.
Moonwalk if space exists
and Flashdance at the end.
Make sure by the break
Of dawn, when the morning
comes and the light is out,
your last dance was a great one.

#IvanBrookspoetry© #Bassapoet
8-20-3019

Fighting fire with fire
Getting higher and higher
Torch the bowl with the lighter
See the shadows get slighter

I ignite on the night like a new sun
Pregame over now we hit the new club
I’m not tryna take a shot
I’m already burning hot
Blood is flowing so no need to clot

Take me to the dance floor
The music leaves me wanting more
So I shout to the sky like a shaman
Like a freshman on his last pack of ramen
Like a black church at the Amen
But this ain’t no old hymn
I’m creating my own rhythm
My own melody and lyrics
It’s catchier than deer ticks
Classier than top hits
It’s a flow that can’t be stopped
A tidal wave that can’t be mopped
I float around this dancing area
Overwhelmed with mass hysteria
I become one with the crowd
We yell but the music is loud
Our songs coalesce into clouds
Dizzy we aren’t stupid or proud
We’re just happy to still be around

So it’s arms up til the suns up
It’s beer pong and true love
It’s small talk and dope subs
It’s the perfect night
Loose but hella tight
Here and there a fight
I didn’t puke but I might
But if I don’t fly my kite
How will I ever see the light?

So I push it to the limits
I bask in every minute
I go hard til I’m in it
Grab the world and spin it
Breakdance in a basement
Trampolines instead of pavement
When I turn loose on the outside
I am underneath the night sky
I bounce to the beat
Coming off every street
And every person I meet

My prism no longer imprisoned
I view the world with super vision
I see a Mona Lisa
Spray painted on the concrete
Every pile of pizza boxes
Is the leaning tower of Pisa
The lady begging is Mother Theresa
The honking horns: Ave Maria


My head is spinning, I just hurled
My arms are wide, my sails unfurled
My mind is free to see the world

How, or when, or what is not the Akond of SWAT?

Does he pick his nose with his fingers and toes?
When he smells a rose does he slime the rose                 with SNOT,
                                                           ­                       The Akond of Swat?

When he texts a text does he always press SEND?
When he chats online does he chat with a friend            or a BOT,
                                                            ­                      The Akond of Swat?

Does he breakdance, jitterbug, krump, or twerk?
Will he dance a jigg? or jive? or ****?                                 or GAVOTTE,
                                                        ­                          The Akond of Swat?

When he eats a banana, does he eat the peel?
Has he eaten an eclectic electric eel                                or a BRAT,
                                                           ­                       The Akond of Swat?
Some one, or nobody, knows I wot
When or how or what is not
                                                           ­                       The Akond of Swat!

what a beautiful rainbow
all these colors
burning my eyes
turning me into a shadow
smooth like stone
your face is a rock formation
strong as time
for innumerable hours
the waves have polished your face
what a way to breathe deeply
sigh and let out you heart’s suffering
i am crumbling like a tree
bowing on my knees
don’t look at me
turn away you say
forget the images of yesterday
easy for you to say
while those memories
are still etched in my brain
i must find my own solace
in a cup of coffee and a bagel
what a lonely feeling
having no one left to talk to
why are we but figures in a poem
wrapped up in a blanket
sandwiched between
a stuffed dinosaur and a television
walruses deny our company
friend requests are meaningless
we give ourselves value
and take pride in our unruliness
unkempt hair and floppy shoes
the bottomless eyes of the moon
poems abuse our energy
strategies take you by surprise
i am defiant like an ice skater
and stumble like a stewardess
sitting on my meditation cushion
i remember the essence of my breath
drink in this silence
and you will eventually outgrow death
inspect your thoughts
and meticulously comb your actions
in this life there is only static
magic is neutral, active, or passive
dragons breakdance on hourglasses
nowadays fences are tall and meanings are short
are essence is pure but our thoughts are defiled
hot women and frozen dinners
look for secrets beyond the shores
of yesterday's defenses
gifted children dream of freedom
sweep our floors and then are gone by morning
do we ever sit still and wonder
where these meager moments of truth
have wandered off to

Busting a move
On my sofa dancefloor.
Just me in my room
My hand jive
My breakdance
My cushions
My home.
Me and my songs.
My cigarettes and my wine.
My good time.
And no-one else around.

Dancing like no one was watching, as the old saying goes, the beat goes on so I put my best foot forward towards change so I'll adapt to it with no resistance. I saved the last dance for you before my favorite record ends and then it's on to something new that'll soon grow on me as time passes. We pass on these genes to the boy that loves to breakdance and the girl that thrives in ballet, perfect cadence with elegance and beauty. They took it a step further I see, So You Think You Can Dance?, if you can't beat em, you minus well join em, one nation under a groove in the name of life.

A heavenly grotesque poem about being apart from you while I am on vacation

I feel the familiar stretch of
you extending your fingers from
beyond my iris,
Puncturing my cornea
to try and grasp the Boston Harbor
That I stare across

You draw my upper lip
Into your mouth as you kiss me,
Your tongue sliding
behind my front teeth to
Taste the ice cream lingering
On my tongue from the street
Vendor on the corner of Fenway Park

As you breakdance through the
Canyons in my brain
Your steps accentuate the beats of the
Drumming in my ears
I think of how you would love the
Sounds I am hearing right now

It’s as if my senses only exist to
Pretend you’re next to me,
When we are apart I only
Enjoy things because
I know you would too

All things beautiful
Remind me of you
And you remind me of
All things beautiful

Dead poetry breathes machine oil,
While living poets decompose in libraries of neon.
Digital haiku pierce analog silence,
Arthritic fingers bleed across sterile keys.
Yesterday's tomorrow weeps in metallic sunshine,
Stone angels breakdance through crematorium ash.
Our elegant trash speaks Sanskrit to sidewalk cracks,
Corruption feeds ****** screens ancient ink.
I retch diamonds on dollar store receipts,
While academic ghosts tweet their death certificates.
Memory's newborn corpse uploads its first cry,
As blind prophets paint selfies in invisible light.
My grandmother's spam folder contains God's last words,
Crystallized chaos grows wild in manufactured soil.
We birth dead verse that sprints through walls,
Traditional rebels preserve decay in fresh rot.