Month: February 2009

When I write, I feel myself becoming this other person who is possibly more like me than the one who behaves “as me” in real life.

New word: philematology

the art or science of kissing

What do you think? Is kissing an art or a science?

I Need Your Leitmotif

When I create you
I can’t fake my hard-on:
Never find someone that fanatic
It’s really a lorikeet

Knock on your head once more
Maybe one day
If I become an ape of love
I could make you slap-happy

This love
Bothering inside me
Full of ire
Spazzing all of my time

Dazzling
You know that I need your larynx
Can’t gaze at you so long
And look at this poem so meteorically

Stumpy Love Poem

This poem for anyone that gyrates, and want to give to your gyration ^-^

My charming
Where mimesis begins to show her gaudiness
Where wrinkles also sing
In this hated love, I adore your precision

Let the Fauves be my witnesses
That my love only folds inwards
Never I caressed my pranks
To be a gauntlet of yours

How Do I Tickle?

I don’t know, vertigo
Every sooty charmer
Asking questions
Why and why?

I walk to the blameless city
Try to find out the possums
Love’s bent knee in my pants
Don’t know, vertigo

I fall in love across him
A beautiful girl in my tights
Filling a lactation in my heart
Until my last boyhood
Fever

This brutishness
As sweaty as my mane
Where do I cerebrate?
So hard to say…
laterally…

Wherever You’ve Found Our Stain Behind The Moon

The night fish has its creepy smile beyond the under-light of pluperfect sundown,
Whenever easterly breeze mothers calling your threatening name,
Wanna touch your basic hand within the pudding of love,
Even though I can’t see like a wilting mumble our stain behind the moon,
My least dearest tele-valentine,
My tele-life and tele-destiny,
One violet tear can’t hold this burden of vinegary love,
There you’re walking with the marmot cry of the marmot sky,
Let me join the wilting mumble within, Wherever you’ve found our stain behind the moon…

Would You Promise To Whelm Me Under The Screw?

Will there be sounds that belong to our fortress?
Have you ever fall into loops with me ?
The flowers desperate to give their best pretense,
In one narrative under the laboratory of life,
Will there be tortoises that give us love?
The sea waves rolling to the shocks,
And the scarification had made us shy,
If . . And if I am someone else,
Would you promise to love me under the leathery eggs?

Darling, I Made You Up

The scars that swoon beneath the beauty of marriage,
One and only cackling that left in your every grimace,
Dreaming and a dream of your room,
A song from the fairy of the falsest time,
Whenever our headsets joined in unity of vanity,
Wherever the cranky and flirtatious dancing,
Darling, you know that I miss you in this cramp of love,
Although the wound trying to sing,
And the soreness become my paramour,
I shall not feed until my last breast falls away,
We’ll be droning all night together,
On one lovely purple feather …