Symbiotic Wine
Language of golden liquid
She drenches my mind
Validated like a lotus rain
Music sweet as an earth religion
Idolatry in her thighs
Wet dripping thighs
Flowing streams
Misty heaven in the mountains
Can chains be pleasure?
Bridled in unconscious dreams
Deep in the masks of pleasure
Ancient leather smiles
She calls me like a spell
Poetry in dark sultry tubes
Bliss calls in her curled toes
Nerve endings filled with silk
New Muse invades my blood
The sound of wolves like joy
I am hunted by my own desire
Crystal glass over flows
Symbiotic wine gold and warm
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Vampires
Mandarin sky like fire in her eyes
Dark visions rise between her thighs
She sleeps in a bed of liquid lava
Decadent Venus in gossamer night
Black silk poetry fills her womb
Succulent moonlight caresses
She reads the Flowers of Evil
Satin sheets in soft candle light
Golden chains, silk scarves
Passion dances in pedicure red
6 inch high heels on my shoulder
Her kisses are like wild wolves
Her mirror fills with purple night
Ivory neck alive with moon beams
She longs to feed on a poets sin
Feel the thorns of sensuous myth
Born to be adored in the garden
The dark side casts her spell
Music from ancient castles
Roses wet with deep red lust
A Goddess thrives on hot blood
Vampires gorged in moonlight
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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A Shower
Water flowing down his black-haired head like the Greeks'
Streaming past his dark eyebrows and his deep eyes
Down his sharp nose and past his smooth cheeks
Dripping down his lush lips, past the mouth's rise
Water flowing down his strong jaws and steady chin
Streaming past his thick neck into the collar bones it trips
Down his biceps and sculptured arms that cause a din
Dripping down his hands and delicate fingertips
Water flowing down his broad shoulders
Streaming past his chest and slender warm back
Down his muscled stomach and thighs, hard as boulders
Dripping down his knees to his calves, which can bare a whack
Water flowing down his ankles to his firm feet
Creating a pool of pure liquid on the ground
Down his hard body, the water so sweet
The liquid dripping around him, so profound!
poem by Monalno Kim
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The Attraction Of Drink
It calls to me every night,
Come, drink, let the liquid flow
Like magic down your throat
And it will take you to places
That only it can know.
So once again I lift
That glass to my lips,
And hear again that seductive voice
And the promises it makes,
And feel again that gentle glow
As it courses through my veins
'Til once again it shows me
The contents of my soul.
I don't know why
I need its liquid touch
But I know when it calls
I'll reach for it again.
So here's to excess and to wine
And sod the doctors orders.
When that wine calls out to me
My hand is on the glass.
poem by Paul Anthony
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Temptation
Night comes, she retreats from love
Winter tears water her memories
Enough pain, she closes the door
Snow falls lightly, hearts freeze
No lavender or soft blue only shadows
Behind thick walls her poetry sighs
Art from the dark soul without sun
Cold frosted illicit moonlight shines
Temptation walks along the lost sea
Silver bracelets and golden chains
Eyes pierce through my weakness
By the fire she burns and waits
The treasures of lust howl like wolves
Winding stairways haunted with ghosts
Masks of feasts from ancient Castles
Winds blow along the barren coast
Collect lost souls with thighs of sin
Creatures dead dance in crimson red
Deep inside the islands become desert
Run from the stars to your fallen bed
She burns like Poe's House of Usher
Frozen lioness eyes raging with war
She calls my name and I must go
Between good and evil my soul is torn
Tonight silence pounds like drums
Her gown is silk and fine black lace
Loneliness springs like an endless well
Aquiline beauty in a Goddesses face
I enter into temptations moonlight
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Bed of Ghosts
Red wolves under the purple moon
She sighs like the wet tide
I have entered a dark door
Parallax lace tubes of silk
Covered in her golden pain
Eyes like castles of strange stone
Walls as high as broken glass
Maybe awakenings are over
Maybe the end is just a mirror
Is love another passport to pain
Now the circus bells sound like thunder
Pigeons feed on park benches
She loves gargoyles on the old church
We walk shrouded in rain
Panhandlers amidst the saved
Gothic lights from a forest of gray
Her red 5-inch heels click the cement
Everyone in a role
Everyone caught like a bomb shelter
We wait for a libido of silk doom
True love like a frozen river
Time settles sand in valleys of sorrow
Childhood oaks with boughs of dreams
No refuge in the ancient masks
Old swings where children played
First friends with granite memories
Joy like a vague painting, a wish
We hold hands under the lost neon
We talk of a future that already is gone
Make love to the images of silver swords
She loves midnight when darkness plays
The romance of Ann Rice
Vampires with garter belts
Moons that seem to melt into whips
Actors of Eugene O’Neil
Tennessee Williams and Poe
Blues and jazz as sultry as eyeliner
We kiss like wild wolves
Lioness that prowls these streets
I lay on a bed of ghosts
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Parallel Universe
Parallel dream with an ankle chain
She dances like a fire that must burn
We are the corridors of beryl
Moons of Jupiter
Sentinels of Venus
Past the pearl promise of pain
Pain has become a Gothic star
Liquid permeable pools
Extensions of wet temptation
Friends of the pheromone doors
Milky Way satin like gossamer lingerie
Dungeon voices elegant as black high heels
She sleeps in the mountains blossom
She wakes me with wolves of night
Neurons circle new strange moons
Misty in a mask of ancient fire
Dreams bring eyes from another sky
She binds my hands with pleasure
The book of myth is open
Forests with gold talons
Red and silk stars
She has come like a thorn
I am afraid to leave my cage
My moist sweet cave
Captive in a parallel universe
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Let This Night Last Forever
Rain drops gently falling
A soft warm kiss you place
The scented flowers in vase
Your long dress in satin lace
Precious moments like this
Here by the warm open fire
Those brown deep eyes peer
I never known such a desire
Let This Night Last Forever
How you truly reach me inside
Like no other lover before
I gently rub your pale thighs
As you keep begging for more
Sharing a glass of chilled wine
I more then desire you ever so
How you know how to do me
And this you surely do know
Let This Night Last Forever
poem by Suelynn Walters
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Bacchus
BRING me wine, but wine which never grew
In the belly of the grape,
Or grew on vine whose tap-roots, reaching through
Under the Andes to the Cape,
Suffer'd no savour of the earth to 'scape.
Let its grapes the morn salute
From a nocturnal root,
Which feels the acrid juice
Of Styx and Erebus;
And turns the woe of Night,
By its own craft, to a more rich delight.
We buy ashes for bread;
We buy diluted wine;
Give me of the true,
Whose ample leaves and tendrils curl'd
Among the silver hills of heaven
Draw everlasting dew;
Wine of wine,
Blood of the world,
Form of forms, and mould of statures,
That I intoxicated,
And by the draught assimilated,
May float at pleasure through all natures;
The bird-language rightly spell,
And that which roses say so well:
Wine that is shed
Like the torrents of the sun
Up the horizon walls,
Or like the Atlantic streams, which run
When the South Sea calls.
Water and bread,
Food which needs no transmuting,
Rainbow-flowering, wisdom-fruiting,
Wine which is already man,
Food which teach and reason can.
Wine which Music is,--
Music and wine are one,--
That I, drinking this,
Shall hear far Chaos talk with me;
Kings unborn shall walk with me;
And the poor grass shall plot and plan
What it will do when it is man.
Quicken'd so, will I unlock
Every crypt of every rock.
I thank the joyful juice
For all I know;
Winds of remembering
Of the ancient being blow,
And seeming-solid walls of use
Open and flow.
Pour, Bacchus! the remembering wine;
Retrieve the loss of me and mine!
Vine for vine be antidote,
And the grape requite the lote!
Haste to cure the old despair;
Reason in Nature's lotus drench'd--
The memory of ages quench'd--
Give them again to shine;
Let wine repair what this undid;
And where the infection slid,
A dazzling memory revive;
Refresh the faded tints,
Recut the aged prints,
And write my old adventures with the pen
Which on the first day drew,
Upon the tablets blue,
The dancing Pleiads and eternal men.
poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson
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She Meditates
Calm day radiates, beckons, teaches
Frosted pines silhouette the blue sky
Behind the veneer eternal intrigue
Hope has eagle wings above the fray
Waiting for the mantra too surface
Stir the silent wisdom from deep earth
Everything in the future was the past
Nothing stays the same - I must emerge
Music fills with tireless wood gnomes
Asylum where the wolf howls free
Wise waterfalls of universal tones
Crystal caves beneath the living sea
The sun has risen and rules the kingdom
Myth daily dances with living light
Ancient language regal in golden thrones
Purple temples gather in the stars tonight
Chivalry with black silver knights
She calls to me in the distant moonbeams
Her voice awakes sleeping warriors
The great cedar grows in mystic dreams
Magic lives in a woman's vast soul
Steeds of poet quills ride for her kiss
Midnight swirls in passionate gardens
Dharma voices of sweet tantric bliss
Walk the earth in romantic mystery
Open the gates wide for visiting legends
By the oak trees hear the timeless oracles
Enchantment begins and never ends
Tibetan black quartz, shamans of sanctuary
Let joy escape cubicles of narrow time
Penetrate energy fields from timeless seers
Silk religion from pleasure and thyme
Every road leads to ruin or a jewel
Parables told of prodigal loss
What is your life? a gift and a vapor
Step away and weigh the cost
She meditates by the quiet river
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Out of Perspective
Fangs behind the lush evening
Razor teeth like falling stars
The subjective without priorities
Her eyes like Cleopatra’s whip
Everything blown out of proportion
First things first make life have focus
My focus is her black 6 inch high heels
My idol Your silk stockings posses me
Fishnet thighs wet like an exotic fountain
Succulent religion of a woman’s tongue
Out of perspective in the wild moonlight
Intense hour compressed like a century
My bed haunted by lush liquid dreams
Some men rise slowly like soaring angels
I have stopped and drank from a golden sea
Vanquished on islands of your moans
Your pheromones like chains of Athena
Your red finger nails brighter than fire
Some lovers are like sweet holes in the sky
Everything is out of perspective
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Lovina
My birth place is the Earth but,
I am preparing myself to go to heaven;
For the sun is shining on me and the flowers are blooming to respect my muse,
But the hope of the unseen heaven is all that i have in mind.
I am preparing myself to go to heaven!
And like the sound of silence and the sound of love;
But the troubles of this Earth are like the sounds of war and the sound of peace,
And like the golden banana and the golden pineapples.
I have to run faster trhan the lion!
Because, i need to overcome the troubles around me to reach the heavens;
But, this Earth is my birthplace.
I am now reaching to heaven! !
And i am very hot like a trip from Oshodi to Yaba in Lagos (Nigeria):
But, my lovely name is Lovina,
And you are as cold as ever.
There is always the power to love and the power of dreams,
And like a monkey hanging on a tree;
But, you are like a gold miner ready for my love,
However, the hope of this unseen heaven is always in my mind.
I have the code of the heaven's gate to share with you,
And like my love so sweet in the land of peace and beauty;
But pride comes before a fall in life,
However, i will get off on this dream to get to heaven!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Inspired by Issa - Pleasure Boat
pleasure boat
we row to the
heaven in us
pleasure boat
waves of blanket
and passion
pleasure boat
we rock and row till we reach
the heaven in us
inspired by
pleasure boat-
on the mountain a deer
calls his wife
-Issa
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Violet Fire
Renewal revels on golden islands
No encumber some vicissitudes
We are the pink rocks of romance
Freedom soars on porcelain angels
Leaves of classic paganism
Inside the tubes of wet forests
Symbiotic truth in your flesh
Poetry of the inner loom
Canals pour their elastic walls
She is the hot moon
Burning trees of green wind
Blue birds like sensuous fire
All monasteries rooted in the desert
Time in pink talons on nipple mountains
Seize the moment in hungry red
Silk stockings around my cerebellum
Stars of silk decadence
Our passion reaches knowledge
Knowledge of ancient flowers
We make love for days like violet fire
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Rivendell
Sunlight dances through the leaves
Soft winds stir the sighing trees
Lying in the warm grass
Feel the sun upon your face
Elven songs and endless nights
Sweet wine and soft relaxing lights
Time will never touch you
Here in this enchanted place
You feel theres something calling you
Youre wanting to return
To where the misty mountains rise and friendly fires burn
A place you can escape the world
Where the dark lord cannot go
Peace of mind and sanctuary by loud waters flow
Ive traveled now for many miles
It feels so good to see the smiles of
Friends who never left your mind
When you were far away
From the golden light of coming dawn
Till the twilight when the sun is gone
We treasure evry season
And evry passing day
We feel the coming of a new day
Dark gives way to light a new way
Stop here for a while until the world,
The world calls you away
Yet you know Ive had the feeling
Standing with my senses reeling
This is the place to grow old till
I reach my final day
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Trumpet Player
The Negro
With the trumpet at his lips
Has dark moons of weariness
Beneath his eyes
where the smoldering memory
of slave ships
Blazed to the crack of whips
about thighs
The negro
with the trumpet at his lips
has a head of vibrant hair
tamed down,
patent-leathered now
until it gleams
like jet-
were jet a crown
the music
from the trumpet at his lips
is honey
mixed with liquid fire
the rhythm
from the trumpet at his lips
is ecstasy
distilled from old desire-
Desire
that is longing for the moon
where the moonlight's but a spotlight
in his eyes,
desire
that is longing for the sea
where the sea's a bar-glass
sucker size
The Negro
with the trumpet at his lips
whose jacket
Has a fine one-button roll,
does not know
upon what riff the music slips
It's hypodermic needle
to his soul
but softly
as the tune comes from his throat
trouble
mellows to a golden note
poem by Langston Hughes
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Poetry is? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
What is poetry is like asking,
'Why is the sky blue? '
There is no answer to What or Why?
but, in any event,
I shall try.
Poetry flows from my heart through my pen,
down through
its neb,
Like a fly struggling in the web of a spider, waiting
to be free.
What is poetry-who knows-could be as simple as the
morning dew on a rose,
children’s laughter,
a baby’s cry,
a mother crooning a lullaby,
bells chiming loud and clear,
the voices
of those that we hold dear.
Poetry is the language of the soul
It gives us the courage to afford life’s many streams
It expands our horizons to realize our dreams.
To summarize the above
Poetry is the Language of Love
Poetry is the Language of the Soul
Poetry is the Language of Life
over which we have
no control.
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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Pedestrian Wolves
Raised by pedestrian wolves, out in the forest
Raised by pedestrian wolves, out in the forest
I was left to fend for myself
I was left in a basket, just like baby moses
To float down that muddy river
Protected by the stupid little fairies
I floated for nine days and nights
I floated for nine days and nights
till I came to the city
Bright lights and all the fine ladies
Come on out all you bright fine ladies
I like you just like you are,
And I love you, kind of,
Just like you are, and I love you
Like a sticky piece of cotton candy
In this bright red cotton candy, candy world
(chorus)
Im so excited , about the prospects of meeting with a
Stranger in an alley, Im so excited. I hope theyre rough, I hope their
Skin is tough like spanish leather
Cant wait until their dull, dead eyes meet mine
I cant wait until their dull, dead eyes meet mine
Raised by pedestrian wolves, out in the forest
Raised by suburban lions, out in the jungle
We really like to run in packs- and I like that
When we hunt, we all function with one mind
Our collective predications are as sharp as the
Razor in my pocket, and as dull as the ice
Melting slowly in my glass
My only love is the love of oblivion, in a dark room
With as couple of pedestrian wolves
So artfully backlit by a solitary candle
I take my pleasure in soft red clouds of desire
So funky in this unwashed bed for one with the soft red dreams of oblivion
(chorus)
Im so excited cause soon Ill hit the streets
I am the crown prince of pavement, Im so excited
Under the sheltering skin
Stretched out so pale and thin
There is an ocean of bright red liquid love
And that, my friend, is my favorite color
Raised by pedestrian wolves out in the forest
And I take my pleasure on a soft red cloud
And I take my pleasure in the monkeys bed
And the wolves still howl and the light still glowing red
And I take my pleasure in a blue steel cage
And I take my pleasure through the monkeys eye
And the wolves all howl while the world around me dies
(chorus)
Im so excited , about the prospects of meeting with a stranger
In an alley, Im so excited. I hope theyre rough, I hope their skin is tough
Like spanish leather
Raised by pedestrian wolves out in the forest
Raised by pedestrian wolves - out in the forest
I was left to fend for myself
I was left in as basket - just like baby moses
To float down that muddy river
Protected by all those stupid little fairies
I floated for nine days and nights til I came to the city
Bright lights and all the fine ladies
Come on out all you bright, fine ladies
I like you just like you are, and I love you, kind of,
Just like you are in this bright red cotton candy, candy world
Raised by pedestrian wolves...
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Muse
They come in silk moonlight
Rising in the high notes
Lingering in corridors of poetry
Sighing in sweet chords
Tribes of ancient color
Spanish silver
Flamingo guitars
Lioness awakens my dry heart
Crinoline forest of mystic joy
Spanish moon shines like a spell
She has come from the sea
She brings me the hurt
She brings me compassion
Love is all the falsely accused
Be a man who cares she says
Her vision surrounds me
Her bracelets of Ulysses
Flowers of Ithaca
Tendrils grow in red gold
Feel the fingers of myth
Centuries in her soft touch
Rings filled with fate
The music burns dusky candles
Castles in the crying wind
See the broken man
Feel the wounded
Her breasts are filled with tears
She tells me of the poor
I am the narrow man of gold
I seek her eyes of beauty
She says grow like the forest
Let your heart see justice, mercy
Dancing by windows
Revel like new flowing love
She moves in shadows of time
Wrapped in gossamer stars
Hear the sweet piano
Feel the beat of fire
Cymbals shimmer with life
She reads a poem of Pablo Neruda
My muse wet like the sea
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Old Fashion Wedding
Exiled and in flight we run
Ravished in the heat of the sun
Nothing can stand Holy scrutiny
Marked with scorn and mutiny
Islands filled with dark caves
We hide from what we crave
We are prisoners of our own walls
From the wilderness a voice calls
Shrouded in clouds along the sea
She flows like a fountain of mystery
Exude your hunger my only love
Open wide like sacred skies above
We are the joyous streams of life
Fiery sun and sweet moon of night
The yellow finch has found his mate
Rivers flow into evening’s gate
Vestures of the dove of peace
Olive oil from the gardens trees
Forgiveness with bright rainbows
Only love makes the heart grow
We watch the rain pour on the fields
Lilies blossom in souls that kneel
Full circles of true family bliss
Bright promises in every kiss
Bells ring in the old churchyard
Family and friends from near and far
The Lord turned water into wine
A love beyond space and time
Union of spirit and body before all
Amidst the spring flowers he calls
Pray for your true love to find you
God is love and dreams come true
An old fashion wedding is still the best
Where the Holy Spirit is the finest of guests
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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My Mind
The twinkle in her eyes,
the teardrops when she cries,
the sweet sound of her sighs
brings pleasure to my mind.
The moves her body makes,
the strides her walking takes,
the stretching in her morning wakes
brings desire to my mind.
The smoothness of her skin,
the amusement in her grin,
the quiver in her chin
brings memories to my mind.
My mind is filled with her.
Contentment makes me purr.
Pleasure keeps my heart stir
for she's always on my mind.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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