How to make Love in Dangerous Times.


All times are dangerous,
Yet still we yearn to dance.
It’s little wonder why 
The peacock spider’s erotic dance
Sees it toe the line
Where the rapture of paradise 
And annihilation
Are mere millimetres apart,

Why the soldiers’ march to battle
Has a timely melody of its own,

Why music is powerful enough 
To rouse the comatose,

Why songs are sung
At funerals.

How do we make love
In dangerous times?

Why we dance, my friend,
We touch fingers
And dance unrestrained 
Through the dangerous sounds
And with our steps
We stomp despair
Deep into the ground,

Even if it’s all
But for a moment’s bliss.

NIGHTINGALE OF SADNESS.



Karma,
providence,
fate,
You make me take away.
Am I wrong with every step,
excuse,
breath?
Tonight, in silence,
Inside, I was crying.

It’s going to take away,
love,
longing,
dreams,
greens,
and it breaks my heart,
as crystal,
the attack of sound.

I’m falling apart,
indescribable himself,
sorry that I can not save,
our hearts,
our love,
our dreams.

Everything is going against us,
star,
words,
thoughts
parts,
fragile our base of kisses,
withstood,
could not,
we smother it with a scream,
wrapped cry,
shatter rage.

And how to explain,
I love you and I dream about you,
looking restless,
your warm touch of love.

BEAUTIFUL WOMAN

 An epitome of what we consider to be elegance. Which is not just limited to physique but inner soul; the intricacy of ones personality. It is a blessing to humanity. Just the thought of you gracing us with your presence is seldom, but worth the wait.

The way in which you try to be the best of who you are , even when circumstances rarely permits. Your persona adds the cream to what’s already intricate. Nothing in this world should have the muscles to shake your motivation.

Beautiful woman is what you are. Exotic and you aren’t far, cos intelligence is what you know, it is your rock bottom and it is refuge. Beautiful woman is what I see. You’ve got ambition, packed beyond infinity. Beautiful woman success is your birth right, your aim, it’s destine to be.

Through it all you’ve maintained your integrity. But to you “honesty ” is a carnivore. It eats at the flesh, it goes to the core. The bones are protruding, and the pain seems unending. Your strength exceeds what other expect, so you stand tall and earn your respect.

Your lovely curly hair cascading upon you shoulders. And your wee face playing hide and with the beholder. You’ve got them looking on as if they’ve been drinking all night and they aren’t sober. But your kindness is all they seek to devour.

Beautiful woman is what you are. Exotic and you aren’t far, cos intelligence is what you know, it is your rock bottom and it is refuge. Beautiful woman is what I see. You’ve got ambition, packed beyond infinity. Beautiful woman success is your birth right, your aim, it’s destine to be.

BREAK UP



Tears run down her face,
Uncontrolled and free.
She can’t keep them in place;
They pour because of me.

Her hurting, like a cloud,
Obscuring what I know.
It shouldn’t be allowed
For grief to clearly flow.

Mascara shows a trail;
A road that leads to sorrow.
Our love that’s now so frail
Will never see tomorrow.

I know I won’t forget,
Those streaks like autumn rain,
An image of regret;
Like glass stained with her pain

SANTIMA 💘

If I could../
I would…/
Grab you like I was rude…/
Strip you nude…/
Rough enough to make u feel good…/
You’d push me like you not in tune…/
And dare to leave, but u won’t…/
Coz you know we just right…/
And you like it when I hold you tight…/
Close enough that you gasp abit../
Our hearts skip a beat…/
The tension builds in bits…/
And when w feel we cant handle the heat…/
We dont retreat…/
We dont quit…/
We make love like there is no tomorrow…/
You follow…??

INTIMACY

I wanted to watch you shave

but I didn’t

It seemed imperative

to leave the room

To leave the night before and

the longing

As if it would tangle around our legs

trip us 

Surrendering our dreams 

to the sun
I wanted to put your toothbrush
in my mouth
Peirce the tip of my finger on the blade
of your razor
Watch the crimson teardrop form
on the arc of the moon
And put my finger between your parted 
lips

Pony-tailed, Never Braided 


The memory of you still hasn’t faded.
Though feminine you wouldn’t wear the stamp,

With hair pony-tailed and never braided.
Curiosity kept you un-jaded;

Serious, but playful, you weren’t a scamp.
The memory of you still hasn’t faded.
Other girls wore clothes finely brocaded;

You ignored the persuasion to revamp

With hair pony-tailed and never braided.
You weren’t one to stay where it was shaded

And though fair-skinned the sunlight was your lamp;

The memory of you there hasn’t faded.
Soon you’ll kiss the boy who’s still undated.

Last Saturday we dropped you off at camp,

Your hair was pony-tailed, still unbraided.
Though your grace was always understated

And you could dress up finer than a champ

The memory of you still will go unfaded:

Your hair was pony-tailed, never braided

#fromMyMothersSide.