What They Say
they say what is it that i have seen
your eyes are too ordinary
but i see them as warm suns
rising with time for my lonely morning
they say your lips are like any other mortal lips
but no, they are the luscious sacred flesh
too sweet too ripe for my tasting
my tongue always dream about fibers
and flesh and dripping drops of juice
they say your are just one mortal walking
on the common streets of this village
but no, you're so divine, a goddess,
a progeny of light descending
from the glory of the heavens
to the profanity of my distant world
they say i belong to the genealogy of the gods
and i must not defy the law that gives justice to our kind
but no, i love you, and i am descending from this throne
i now sleep on the grass, naked without my crown
disrobed, undressed, i am alone now, away from them,
they that mock me, i am alone now, long waiting for you.
how can you be so unkind? you send the message
you are not finally coming to be with me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
X6
the manner of perfection is always
the meeting of what is up there
and down here, for instance...
man &
God, and that is on the higher plane
but there is more to this kind of
philosophy,
even in the basest manner of making love,
the fusion of two lips
the collisions of two pelvic bones
tongue
to tongue
in and
out
body to
body
soul to
soul
more likely but
the point is
there is more ecstasy
for the lips to
reach down the tips
of the toes
God
stepping down
to crucifixion
to find
Man
heaven's tongue
to earth's
feet,
the sharp rods of
thunder
piercing the
crevices of
the earth
the fingers of the sun
caressing
the roots of grass
the man
bending between
the legs
of the woman
on the floor
the carpets crawl
on the carpets
the ceiling drops
undressed
the moon finally
rest on the marshes
how a goddess
resigns
from its
cloud throne
to have a tryst
with the horny
faun
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lotus Flower
I dream of you open like the pale Lotus flower
The petals of your nether lips moist with
dew drops of honey nectar
your inner flesh luscious and splayed
pink to red like a strawberry
I stare at your belly rising and falling
My eyes moving upward to the swell
Of soft round white mountains capped with dark currants
The odor of your honey melon
rising from the wings of your hips
reaches my flared nostrils
it is the sea and mist
a grotto of joyous communion
a soft lovely nest of lust
waiting for the lash of my tongue
poem by George Murdock
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A Dream Of The Flesh
we are in the river
naked
our bodies meet
like
one body
missing
another body
and the river
becomes
one warm
water
trickling down
our two bodies
body to body
flesh to flesh
hands
to hands and
arms entwine
like some
chains of
daisies
to our necks
this oneness
that we
finally make
eyes to eyes
closing
and lips to lips
searching
tongues
we dare
search
our souls
if they
are there
too
in this
fusion
for the
meantime
we have no time
to ask
the river
has no name
even
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Forbidden Fruit
He presses it to his lips,
Bares his teeth,
And nips at the flesh.
Sweet liquid escapes his lips
And races with his tongue
From the corner
Of his mouth.
He catches the nectarous droplet
And draws it back inside.
Oh my!
How I long for a taste!
To touch his delicious lips with mine.
To fold my tongue through
The warm sweetness of him
Again...again and again.
Ohhhh to hear my name groaned
Through his baritone voice
As my body sings his song.
His eyes....his beautiful eyes are....
Uh oh! !
He sees me!
I feel crimson warmth spread
Across my face
And wonder..
How long have I been staring at him?
© 2012
poem by Ruby Honeytip
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Life is not A question, But It is an experience!
Life is not a question that to be
solved,
it should be experienced!
Life is that experience of facing
and solving problems,
toughest is to know the one who experience.
The evolution of life itself is story
of trial and error!
life itself is that greatest observer
of itself!
The vision of invisible viewing through mortal eyes,
hearing the silent eloquent by mortal ears,
touching the one beyond touch by mortal skin,
Smelling the one odourfree by mortal nose,
Tasting the one who is tastefree by mortal tongue
Immortal showing up as mortal!
Life is an experience between birth and death,
coming here as nothing,
Learning to love and hate,
Learning to work and expect fruits,
developing skill to use senses and devices,
Learning to use mind and intelligence,
Learning and conveying message,
The message of immortal to mortal,
The truth itself in pursuit of Truth!
Life itself is that truth,
looks like an experience
that constantly puts
its own existence
on trial...
The one who had born has to die,
But one who is eternal continues his eternal play!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Corporeal
This flesh is
as we conceive
each sparkling pin
of sunlight filling
our cupped palms'
gift of the red
hand-pump's cool
water spilled here
in sleepy summer's park
before our very eyes
our lips, and tasting it
we know at last, need
and the wet bones of our
bare feet, the promise
kept for us while still
above the soil: this
carnal irony of consciousness,
ephemeral and costing
only each of our precious
lives: this beloved
flash, this flesh
of instance:
our mortal mind
of eternal soul
so corporeal.
poem by Matt Mullins
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Awakening
A slumberous sense of seclusion
As sleep is drifting from my eyes,
I look upon the translucent shade of the morning dew
While I, moving slowly do arise.
Watching the rain dripping from the eaves
Silhouetted in gold from the rising sun,
My mind gradually awakening
Now a new day has begun.
Through dimly, dancing dawns first light,
With sound of the rains chime,
The horizon still not clear
Just sweet thoughts of a shadowy time.
A light gust of wind gently lifts
The dead and dying leaves
Settling softly upon the ground
As light as the morning breeze.
The suns light a smile of gold
On the landscapes new days light,
Now stand and look at the rainbow
A gorgeous scene for mortal sight..
© 2012 Hazel
poem by Hazel Connelly
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sorrow ***** PRISONER OF THE FLESH
I am the prisoner of my flesh which I have thoughtlessly
Inherited from the genes of nowhere
I am convicted of a mysterious crime
Nobody wants
I am the prisoner of weaknesses
Shackles my limbs, shrinks my nerves
Shrouds my mind to act perfectly in
The world of mistakes
Flesh is the jail where I am imprisoned
Wicked strengths are the metal chains fettered me
Eyes of the folks are the guards of my faults
Their tounges are like guns
Firing my head un-blood
Justice? I pervert not justice
Divine Judge
Justice is within me
I have no suspicious offender but my flesh
I beg one Divine Judge
A day of chance to pardon my life-long sentence
I confess
I am waiting now for that miracle
Please hearken my plea!
poem by Rommel Mark Dominguez Marchan
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Flesh Prisoner
I am the prisoner of my flesh which I have thoughtlessly
Inherited from the genes of nowhere
I am convicted of a mysterious crime
Nobody wants
I am the prisoner of weaknesses
Shackles my limbs, shrinks my nerves
Shrouds my mind to act perfectly in
The world of mistakes
Flesh is the jail where I am imprisoned
Wicked strengths are the metal chains fettered me
Eyes of the folks are the guards of my faults
Their tounges are like guns
Firing my head un-blood
Justice? I pervert not justice
Divine Judge
Justice is within me
I have no suspicious offender but my flesh
I beg one Divine Judge
A day of chance to pardon my life-long sentence
I confess
I am waiting now for that miracle
Please hearken my plea!
poem by Rommel Mark Dominguez Marchan
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The Stag
In a grove of hidden delight
My flesh tasted a divine urge,
The gods’ covet as their right;
Warmth in the cold earth.
Artemis in huntress pose,
In her nakedness, sublime;
In my hand a red, red rose
Borne in abandon of the vine.
Such sweet tastes were hidden
In the very touch of ages
Carried aloft as gods have bidden
In many an old mortal guise.
In the morning I awoke in sadness
Torn between a promise
And the despair of solemn madness
Withstood in resolve alone.
It became memory acutely felt,
As dogs of despair ripped my flesh.
poem by Resten Swondo
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He Sits Beside Her
when he sits beside her
she knows what she wants
him
and she pretends that she is just
nothing but a girl
whose hands are too tiny and so fragile
and he of course
will be tender & gentle to any kind of girl like
her
but she is more than a girl now
that
he must know
she knows where to touch him
what weak spot
and tell him
you are sitting beside this
woman
he takes a look some more
her eyes are are inviting
not innocent
he begins to see the eyes
of the woman
he made love before
she wears the smell of a beautiful
full-grown woman
ready for any sweet seclusion
or inclusion shall i say
a seduction just to be exact in some ways
this physical smell
of warm flesh and smooth skin and luscious lips
of a woman
now she looks at him again
a lingering stare
ready to take him in
only if she understands
the changes in her taking place in this moment
in such a magical moment he does not see the same little girl
whose hands he thought
are innocent
and so fragile
he understands fully the begging hands of time
now the fruit is ripe for the picking
the tree is waiting
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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False Witness
The lips of joy,
The lips of understanding,
The lips of wisdom,
The lips of hope,
He who walks in uprightness shows the reverence of Yahweh.
Life in the midst of a throne,
Like he who sits upon the throne;
But your love is so sweet to my taste.
In all labour, there is gain;
But, mere talk leads to poverty.
The lips of love,
Knowledge comes to him who understands;
For we have heard a rumour about you but,
We will keep our peace on this matter.
Like a message to the wife of the dead,
Like a message to the husband of the dead,
Like a message to the daughter of the dead,
Like a message to the son of the dead,
And like the jewelry of a fine gold;
But, why is the world like this?
Like two blind men sitting by the wayside,
A truthful witness saves the lives of many!
But like the foal of a donkey,
A false witness is a betrayer! !
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Knife
Can I explain this to you? Your eyes
are entrances the mouths of caves
I issue from wonderful interiors
upon a blessed sea and a fine day,
from inside these caves I look and dream.
Your hair explicable as a waterfall
in some black liquid cooled by legend
fell across my thought in a moment
became a garment I am naked without
lines drawn across through morning and evening.
And in your body each minute I died
moving your thigh could disinter me
from a grave in a distant city:
your breasts deserted by cloth, clothed in twilight
filled me with tears, sweet cups of flesh.
Yes, to touch two fingers made us worlds
stars, waters, promontories, chaos
swooning in elements without form or time
come down through long seas among sea marvels
embracing like survivors in our islands.
This I think happened to us together
though now no shadow of it flickers in your hands
your eyes look down on ordinary streets
If I talk to you I might be a bird
with a message, a dead man, a photograph.
poem by Keith Douglas
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The Night Dionne Warwick Sang.
Dionne Warwick was singing
you'll never get to Heaven
if you break my heart
over the small white
transistor radio
under the covers
of the bed after
having made love
to your girlfriend
and you both snuggled there
she running a finger
down your spine
and you kissing
one of her small breasts
and the transistor crackled
and the voice on the radio
went in and out of tune
and you said
hush Sweetie Pie
or the others
will hear you
and she put a hand
over her mouth
to stifle the giggles
and the smell of lilac
and sweating bodies
filled your nose
and the singing
made you sway
and you sensed
the flesh warm
and sweet
beneath you
and you listened
for the sound of others
maybe along the hall
or moving in their sleep
and her lips
kissed your ear
and her tongue
reached right in
and you thought that
paradise
that music
the warm flesh
the kisses
and her tongue
easing itself
in and out
of your ear
and the moon lit up
in the corner
of the window
bright and angel like
over the top
smiling glow
and you and she
in the bed
and you opened
your eyes
and you were alone
it had all been
a dream in your head.
poem by Terry Collett
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I M Coming Home(inequity Confession)
I M coming home oh lord, l m coming home
l have been lost all along for my eyes have
been blind folded by inequity.
l need your light and strength to arrive home
safely, l need the spiritual guidance to reach
at home safely..l cant on my own WITHOUT YOU
SIN is demanding justice for my soul but YOUR&LOVE
MERCY ARE saying 'NO'
LORD I NEED YOUR TOUCH because l can not bear
this anymore l need to come HOME, where l belong
Let your rain pour upon my soul and flesh to wash
away all the INEQUITY AND TRANSGRESSIONS and let there
BE LIGHT IN MY LIFE for my flesh is willing to come
back home BUT MY SOUL IS TIRED due to heavy burden and marks
of inequity In my FLESH....I NEED YOUR POWER, UNCONDITIONAL
LOVE 'GRACE' BECAUSE I M COMING HOME..
poem by Donald Kuutsi
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The Glory Now Descending
I have seen the heavens descending
And the beauty of Christ arise
For there is no comprehending
As His glory fills the skies
Are the eyes of your heart full of wonder?
Has perfect love cast out all fear?
Can you hear the heavenly thunder?
As our Lord and God draws near
Lift up your eyes and see the King
As the angels blow their horn
Let every man and woman sing
For the day that He was born
For on that day when He came to earth
The angels did rejoice
And all who bowed now gladly serve
And make a joyful noise
For if glory filled the earth and sky
On the day that He was born
And all hell shook when He was crucified
And the veil was surely torn
Then what glory now descending
As He comes back for His own?
And every heart depending
For the trumpet it has blown
Close your eyes and open your heart
And the King of glory will come in
It was His plan right from the start
To conquer hell and death and sin
O the glory of the risen King
Who is coming for His own
And every child of God will sing
Around God's holy throne
Come Lord Jesus take your place
Rule and reign forevermore
We'll eternally gaze into your face
As we all worship and adore
poem by Frank McEleny
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If You Are My Food Spread On The Table
granting arguendo
my dear beautiful girl
that you are my food for dinner
what shall i take first?
your lips, oh, i love delicious lips
sweet lips, wet lips and tight lips, and
gripping lips to my lips
then your eyes
so i can enter your soul
these windows that cannot close
someone so lovely and loving you
as i try to be this air
invisible and yet so essential
to your being
i shall take every flesh in you
and every bone and every nerve
but there is one thing i shall not attempt to take
away from you
your heart, you may not tell me, but i know
it already belongs to someone else
in respect for true love
i shall leave it there
breathing, wishing, and still loving....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To O.E.A.
Your voice is the color of a robin's breast,
And there's a sweet sob in it like rain--still rain in the night.
Among the leaves of the trumpet-tree, close to his nest,
The pea-dove sings, and each note thrills me with strange delight
Like the words, wet with music, that well from your trembling throat.
I'm afraid of your eyes, they're so bold,
Searching me through, reading my thoughts, shining like gold.
But sometimes they are gentle and soft like the dew on the lips of the eucharis
Before the sun comes warm with his lover's kiss.
You are sea-foam, pure with the star's loveliness,
Not mortal, a flower, a fairy, too fair for the beauty-shorn earth.
All wonderful things, all beautiful things, gave of their wealth to your birth.
Oh I love you so much, not recking of passion, that I feel it is wrong!
But men will love you, flower, fairy, non-mortal spirit burdened with flesh,
Forever, life-long.
poem by Claude McKay
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Song - The Church Hall in Drummore
She’s sitting down beside the wall
When the music starts to play
I’m walking slowly ‘cross the hall
And I'm lost for words to say
I know her name and nothing more
But there’s something in her eyes
We’re in the village of Drummore
In the Church Hall side by side
Some kind of spell falls over us
It's the nineteen seventies
We’re oh so young and lost for love
And we gently start to kiss
Her lips are soft; she holds me tight
And we’re seized by tenderness
But something took me off that night
From her sweet and tender lips
From time to time I think of you
In your village by the shore
And how the years so quickly flew
Since we kissed then touched no more
I caught your eye in Mill Street once
And we said a warm hello
It turned my thoughts to love and chance
In the church hall in drummore
(chorus)
I held you in my arms that night
A short and precious time
And you were more than you’ll ever know
So long ago dear in Drummore
Now is The Winter With Trees Stripped Naked
Now is the winter with trees naked
when there is cold and sifting rain,
stripped bare without leaves
and then you first come past and then to me
like a sun rising over the horizon
with a yellow raincoat, your pants splashed wet, laughing and glad
and your company is full of fun
in bands of gathering fog.
Now is the winter with trees naked
cutting off every ray and light
and I know our time is only borrowed,
like a sun rising over the horizon
but stopping the rays in this winter,
in a cold world without hope or pity,
stripped bare without leaves
where you shake out your hair like a dog does with rain,
whereupon I take the clips from your hair
and I know our time is only borrowed
but your are glorious like a poster
and for long moments time is missing.
Now is the winter with trees naked
with bliss descending between us
and you are only mine, with soft lips and big eyes
whereupon I take the clips from your hair
and I see your beauty
our passion goes to practical reality,
stripped bare without leaves
we shine like the world outside in vulnerability like rainbows,
where passion sweeps us away from uncovering
and you are only mine, with soft lips and big eyes
pretty, pure and untouched
in moments of ecstasy without fatigue.
Now is the winter with trees naked
stripped bare without leaves
and I am totally lost in you.
and then you first come past and then to me,
where passion sweeps us away from uncovering
with a yellow raincoat, your pants splashed wet, laughing and glad.
poem by Gert Strydom
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