(wrote this as a challenge, was given 7 minutes to complete and post it. i know it needs work, but hey, i’m posting with over a minute to spare. )


there’s a poison in you,
in us;
even if you always do taste
like cough drops.

it’s much easier for
punch-drunk lovers
and one night
pass me bys;
harder still,
for people like us.

the addicted ones.

i can’t be easy to love
i know this,

but your body warms me like
summer thunder
and mine comforts you like
a tourniquet.
(love/storm)
throbbing lightning
in a bottle.

go ahead
leave
before i do.
go ahead
scream,
loud,
in a voice only
ex-lovers can
understand.

i’ll find you tomorrow
where music and
silence meet.
where we will kiss
hard
and with a thunderous
passion
of colliding Gods
falling to earth

and we’ll laugh
loud,
as we read this note.
knowing that
in these words,
here,
we will find nothing
more
than the dried chips
of ink
falling from
the wrinkled pages
of yesterday.




kc '12

Always enjoy reading your poetry :-)

thank you, i wish i had more time for this one though.

then again, i guess i do now...

thank you sir tazz...

Awesome write.....

thanks for reading...

Just..great.
Sometimes the thoughts that flow like cream,
are everlasting and cannot be improved upon.

I was impressed! It needs no work whatsoever, in my opinion.

There are some hazy, unsure quaggy fields there, sure. But to improve on those, would perhaps mean that you go back to it when you are in a different mood, and it doesn't matter how much your mood is off, little, or by much, you can never rebuild the original tension once the mood has been disturbed by mixing in some different ones.

If you fix it as I forbode here, then you'll be forever coming back to this little piece of jewel, and you will never be happy.

Sometimes it's easier to live with a disomfort with a dress pinching here or there, or a glove being uncomfortable, than to rework the dress, which may create holes in it that never can be patched up.

And imperfection can very often be okay. Michaelangelo left some sculptures unfinished, and so did Rodin. They knew they did not know how to do continue, they knew that they got themselves chased into a cul-de-sac of their creative force, and they KNEW that that's okay.

Beethoven never finished his only opera, and it's the best in the world to date.

Marilyn Monroe left the best orgasm ever known to mankind unfinished, and she never tried again.

God knows we would be better if we ran on wheels and got our energy was supplied by a wind-up mechanism in our chest cavity, but He also knew better than to change the design.

Einstein's relativity theory could have been extended to mothers-in-law, but Albert was totally clear on the weaknesses that would create in the fabric of space, and in the cosmic world order, so he left it alone.

---------

In one thought: please don't change this poem. It is very, very good.

Within those 7 minutes you came up with 'perfection'. Love it..

well..thank you
cream has seldome ruined anything.

wux my good man, you make a compelling argument. for now, it stands as is.
as for einstein, there does seem to be debate on which came first, space or time?
thank you for the comment.

i don't know about perfection, but i do appreciate the comparison.

Sensuous/captivating
Hallmark would be jealous.

s1ow...

s.a.i.b. thank you for reading and for posting...

Dope as hell!

You keep getting more amazing, kc.

Captivating write. For real.

i think it's about time you and i worked something out together.

you up for it?

I'm down. Sounds like a good writing endeavor for either/both of us, friend.

'more'.....