i've got a couple poems I wrote...michelangeloApril 22 2009, 18:26:31 UTC
first one on wildlife...and second more on gorilla...both i used in a place to help me begin to roll ecstatically in the dirt...I could use them again now too.
Cheers!~ *********************************
Communication Through the toes of woman wild beast hair to emerald eyes widening through the organs of life birthing kindness in red thickness falling down to the toes of communion, which are the lips that speak to the ground of their presence, their gratitude, their movement. Passages. All movement in electric passages. Lighting the deads limbs to fashion their meals, Wind through winding locks in the passage of touch, Fire's passage through the core of the earth, to the core of the womb, to the sun and the stars in the sky The passage of water through the crevices of land, through the passage of body, to return to the land Floating rainbows pass again to the sky and who can say why? who can justify? The beast on her mission of vivacious non-mission cannot be stopped to question the tide and pulse of the earth and the heart separate only in illusion. Questioning the abyss to stand up for illusions is questioning the heart to translate its bounty to mathematical formulae for scrutiny. In surrendering to a fretless Now, I open to the infinite possibilities of experience, the vastness that cannot be contained in everything vast and imaginable, within the confined illusion of definite physicality. Releasing the need to understand, to make room, roooooom for the opening of the petals of gratitude and generosity within which life and friendship come. This, is wildLife.
**********************************
Savage energy milked with open comfort comfortable enough to raise both these arms in primate fur strong and wild undirected and reaching touching the nature that asks for its touching sexually gorilla untamed innocence purely free sensual risk texture of plant awakens the fingers laughter excapes roars of no boundaries breasts open light beams under the dark romance of where is it okay to be this free... this me. Moira May in peaches bleeding juicy fresh she sings the jungle song thin green leaves shading the sweet head of the mistress hair in unrestricted motion...
This is the real face of her happiness. That is mine. or perhaps, ours. ******************
Cheers!~
*********************************
Communication
Through the toes of woman
wild beast hair to emerald eyes
widening through
the organs of life
birthing kindness
in red thickness
falling down
to the toes of communion,
which are the lips that speak to the ground
of their presence,
their gratitude,
their movement.
Passages.
All movement in electric passages.
Lighting the deads limbs to fashion their meals,
Wind through winding locks in the passage of touch,
Fire's passage through the core of the earth, to the core of the womb, to the sun and the stars in the sky
The passage of water through the crevices of land, through the passage of body, to return to the land
Floating rainbows pass again to the sky
and who can say why?
who can justify?
The beast on her mission
of vivacious non-mission
cannot be stopped to question
the tide and pulse
of the earth and the heart
separate only in illusion.
Questioning the abyss to stand up for illusions
is questioning the heart to translate its bounty to mathematical formulae for scrutiny.
In surrendering to a fretless Now, I open to the infinite possibilities of experience, the vastness that cannot be contained in everything vast and imaginable, within the confined illusion of definite physicality.
Releasing the need to understand,
to make room, roooooom
for the opening of the petals of gratitude and generosity
within which life and friendship come.
This, is wildLife.
**********************************
Savage energy
milked with open comfort
comfortable enough to raise both these arms
in primate fur
strong and wild
undirected and reaching
touching the nature that asks for its touching
sexually gorilla
untamed innocence
purely free
sensual
risk
texture of plant
awakens the fingers
laughter excapes
roars of no boundaries
breasts open light beams
under the dark romance
of where is it okay to be
this free...
this me.
Moira May
in peaches bleeding
juicy
fresh
she sings
the jungle song
thin green leaves
shading the sweet head
of the mistress hair
in
unrestricted
motion...
This is the real face of her happiness.
That is mine.
or perhaps, ours.
******************
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