The Vein Trace - Of Eros Deconstructionists At Work In Bed
1 Systole
to return to
the simplicity
of the body
that IS the body
filigree surface
of hairs
of skin
the mottled where
the vein trace there
precludes entrance of
major sort though
absorptions
always claim
final victory
we are
dear
naked
before me
absorbed ourselves
absolution resolute
in threads fraying
these (whose are?)
these fingers splayed
as in these (whose?)
scratches
you leave
my back
teeth marks
the bruises
we are each
weeding cell
by cell
of swollen need
frighten
but
do not stop us
the unappeasable
silver scar-and-tell
show the
swelling
space that
(spills)
is around
bodies
that they can
be all things
from
nails to
teeth
a wreath
ammonia bone
lace
delight
the rounded
space
the trace
our constrained
embrace prays to be
O pray the bed
may hold the
weighted curve
the emboldened
release strained out
from the
out-rubbed O
O all
that excretions
exude
presuming breath
2 Diastole
exhume the
bellows such are
the breasts shells
beneath each our
own which come to
us ancestrally
as spectral
steam near
panes upon
which
promiscuous
sheer
admit all
entrance what
passes through
you dear
naked
before me
and an equally
naked
me
unframed upon
once-time of
exodic
morphic wander
geography's the
more simpler made by tongue
buds
taste the
finger
all things that
grasp sublingually
the sucking smile
lips bent forward
into each the
tongue the pearl
turned round
and round
the dark
chamber of
the mouth
the lung petal
florets there
their little
mouths too
gulp/gape
also wet
seeking too
the pearl
heart drum
skin stretch
(systole) you
hum me I hum
you (diastole)
the near panes
O
open
here
we pour in
air
the street
below from
where were
we once mutual
liquidity
now
turned out
out wrung
surpassing
bodies
denatured of
but not at all to belabor the obvious
but not at all to argue the
point finally taken over at
last tremblingly overtaken
poem by Warren Falcon
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Related quotes
Zipper my tongue
notice me not; i am zipper by the fence of
my teeth and close by the lips, protected by two
holes beneath the two big eye balls rap with color
little hair, to feel it shiny tiny cloth of skin to tell
why keep in talking if the heart can't improve
good silent, and why the nose always breathing
when, the same air, feel in the air, would it's not
easy for the ears listen and talk to the wind after
the dawn of silent
sleep my dear heart; let us always open the mouth
and touch the teeth for every silent the tongue will
speak; for each return claps the hands where the pin
is on
what then the little heart tell, when the big blind
mouth says that; the waiting is over for everything is
ready to a harder fight, and win a better glorious
victory, its not the right aim yet, the best shoot it
gain
stop my apology; the same things happen again,
please switch a new beginning for my awesome
heart zipper my tongue forever......
poem by Antonio Liao
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And Will You Love Her Again?
yes
and why do you say yes? because my arms and hands are ready
ready for what? for my lips
what do you mean? i have prepared myself how to hug and touch and kiss her
again
a dark night, a room, a candle, a glass of wine,
a cell phone turned off, and silence
this is
it, yes, the two of you again meeting
and did you taste her again? oh yes, i tasted her again my tongue is hardheaded
and how did she taste like? still sweet, sweeter than before
was she beautiful? more beautiful than ever
how did you know? she was naked
is beauty being naked? yes, someone beautiful must be naked before me
and silent and quite and private
she is still my sorrow and i know what i have at the end are still tears
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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About Last Night.....
i finally went to bed at
1: 30 a.m. and when i undress myself
as i usually do,
when i turned off the light
you turned it on
in a little while you while naked
went up bed
and walked towards the door
opened it and then closed it again
as though darkness
when the lights were turned off again
was a big mouth
eating the whole of your naked body
and then
gone
i wished i were asleep.
but it wasn't
because the following morning
the whole room was as silent as
clothes on the floor
without a body.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Stress Therapy
Time, time, time, time, the clock
vaccinates us.
and then even that lacks
prophylaxis.
Ticktock-pockmarked, stricken
by such strokes, we
get sick of prescriptions
which work solely
on the body.
Systole diastole--
It is by its very
intermittency
that the heart knows
itself to be an I.
poem by Bill Knott
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The Innocent Louse
The louse can live its entire life
on the curve of a cat’s tail
boring tiny burrows
for homes and suburbs in the flesh
with a body and a system
made for sense
and perception of a world
made of nothing but long cat hair
cat skin, cat marrow and blood
living a life of curve and wave
and bristling burrowing luxury
breathing mere inches
from quick forelimbs with scratching nails
and pursed lips ready to press and taste
tongue salivating
a jaw made to press and spit
dead husks and rendered shadows
the mouth stained
dripping
with teeth
poem by by unknown author
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How Sweet Love Is
To meet her and instantly be in her arms.
Holding her kissing her feeling her presence.
Is passionate romantic stuff Hollywood movies sell on.
Within minutes to be stripping naked
while still holding touching kissing
tripping on magic of precious moments;
finally in your lovers arms after five days absence;
is the great joy of a true compassionate love.
The taste of your lovers lips
the feel of her soft skin
the caressing of her soft golden hair;
as you run your fingers softly through;
the embrace of her warm naked body
all contribute to the magic of this
the first magic moments of our meeting
the eager anticipated heat of our greeting;
our souls and our bodies are ever seeking;
the way back to our partners heat and presence.
Oh our sweet our love is.
Oh our sweet our heat is.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Me And The Sea
do not expect me to wear
a G-string when i decide to take my swim
i always go naked.
I like always to feel the sea
all over my body
i plunge myself
and feel the nakedness of the sea
too
it's water all over me
all around me
naked sea to my naked body
you know how it feels
it feels like the way we do it
you are the sea
and i am a body
you are a body
and i am the sea
so simple and yet
what a bliss
naked, deep, blue, watery
wet, slippery, salty,
sweat mixed with the salt of the sea
two naked bodies
feeling
salt, earth, sand, fire
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Motherhood
She sat on a shelf,
her breasts two bellies
on her poked-out belly,
on which the navel looked
like a sucked-in mouth—
her knees bent and apart,
her long left arm raised,
with the large hand knuckled
to a bar in the ceiling—
her right hand clamping
the skinny infant to her chest—
its round, pale, new,
soft muzzle hunting
in the brown hair for a nipple,
its splayed, tiny hand picking
at her naked, dirty ear.
Twisting its little neck,
with tortured, ecstatic eyes
the size of lentils, it looked
into her severe, close-set,
solemn eyes, that beneath bald
eyelids glared—dull lights
in sockets of leather.
She twitched some chin-hairs,
with pain or pleasure,
as the baby-mouth found and
yanked at her nipple;
its pink-nailed, jointless
fingers, wandering her face,
tangled in the tufts
of her cliffy brows.
She brought her big
hand down from the bar
with pretended exasperation
unfastened the little hand,
and locked it within her palm—
while her right hand
with snag-nailed forefinger
and short, sharp thumb, raked
the new orange hair
of the infant’s skinny flank—
and found a louse,
which she lipped, and
thoughtfully crisped
between broad teeth.
She wrinkled appreciative
nostrils which, without a nose,
stood open—damp holes
above the poke of her mouth.
She licked her lips, flicked
her leather eyelids—
then, suddenly flung
up both arms and grabbed
the bars overhead.
The baby‘s scrabbly fingers
instantly caught the hair—
as if there were metal rings there—
in her long, stretched armpits.
And, as she stately swung,
and then proudly, more swiftly
slung herself from corner
to corner of her cell—
arms longer than her round
body, short knees bent—
her little wild-haired,
poke-mouthed infant hung,
like some sort of trophy,
or decoration, or shaggy medal—
shaped like herself—but new,
clean, soft and shining
on her chest.
poem by May Swenson
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Dance Naked
I want you to dance naked
So I can see you
Id like to get to know you
You dont have to act naughty
Spin it round and round
Spin it round and round and round
I want you to dance naked
I promise I wont touch you
I promise to tell no one, no
I want you to dance naked
Spin it round and round
Spin it round and round and round
Spin it round and round
I want you to dance naked
If you like ill join you
I want to enjoy your body
I want to hear all your secrets
I want to know if you like me
As much as I like you
I want you to dance naked
But only if you want to
Spin it round and round
Spin it round and round and round
Spin it round and round
I want you to dance naked
So I can see you
Id like to get to know you
But only if you want to
Spin it round and round
Spin it round and round and round
Spin it round and round
Spin it round and round and round
I want you to dance naked
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Breathe Me
Come closer;
I need to feel
your body
heat.
Your breath,
on my face;
I paint
you inside my eyes
so I can see you
all the time-
look at the
nape
of your neck,
its curvature;
your eyes.
All slopes away
to my waiting soul
which pauses
at odds times
in the day to
look at you.
My finger tip
has a tiny glow
as I trace
across your lips;
as I move close behind you
worshiping in that cathedral body space
between us;
static electricities crackle;
small lighting bolts
spark.
Give me;
your anticipation;
drape me
in your contour
as we
sooth screaming desire
furtively.
Put my hand
beside your face;
my mouth to your mouth
as I feel your body tingling
tremoring,
soft quakings
from kneading touches
which occasion
others:
stellar propulsions
and more lighting strike intensities.
You exhale slowly;
intake again,
swelling;
your breath is a
warm effusion and egress
surging into me
lung ward
between soft lips;
where all settles in
like home;
I feel you quiver
and release.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Avoiding History
avoiding history is a family tradition,
draft dodging, missing wars, as far
back as my fathers go, I find
no soldiers, no warriors and also
no lovers. we don't write
in my family, we withdraw
our stories on objection, stop
telling them. we keep secrets.
I keep my own secrets and rarely
tell them, keep my truth
from coming back to hurt me.
I learn slowly but I learn well,
to keep my secrets, avoid history.
I avoided history by protesting war
and by refusing to marry.
I learned late, but I learned well.
your eyes tell your history, your belly,
in its soft geography, hints at mine.
I don't enlist, I avoid being drafted,
my bridges burn behind me.
I read history in the slope of her breasts,
her silence uses me in my telling.
I have many ways to lie,
using a sharp knife to separate
flesh from nerve, bone and tendon.
how many times have I undressed you,
hearing you tell me that I don't care
about anything, until you turn
away from me, turn on me, turn
to stone. I turn you over, exploring
history in the cleft of your ass,
touching with my hands but never
touching you, feeling alone finally,
shedding uniforms and telling stories.
lies return in the secrets I keep, hints
I cover with long explanations.
you come to me, naked, asking questions
and feel betrayed, telling me finally
that I don't matter and never
was real to you. I tell you
I was a soldier, that I fought,
and you lie to me by undressing yourself,
nakedness concealing your aims.
I read history in the curve of your thighs,
my tongue seeking your skin, seeking
you in your skin, tasting
beneath your skin. I find
your secrets, I tell your history
and turn my back to you. in sleep,
you back away, waking,
you dismiss me and I write a secret
history, full of lies and silences.
poem by Jesse Weiner
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Tongue Bath
Yeah, (ohhh), we got the hood rats in the house right
(Would you like a tongue bath babe)
They say they like tongue bath (from the back)
So, uh, we went and got Methron
But of course, it's the Ying-Yang Twins
Let me see you freak your body
I won't stop until you get enough
Anyway you want it, I'm with it
I just wanna get up in it
(You want a tongue bath, you need a tongue bath)
Let me see you freak your body
I won't stop until you get enough
A tongue bath, from the back
Oh yes, that's the way I like it
(You want a tongue bath, you need a tongue bath)
Forget about that Summer we stretched straight thuggin it up
In the tongue bath world we was loving it up
I've been told by the eye we were holding each other
To the room, sexual, of the Isley Brothers
Sippin' Alazez and Hennessee, straight thug passion
Licking nipples, got you gigglin', so you started to laugh
And now it's getting so erotic baby
All of a sudden so I'm kissing on your body baby
Admit it babb
See baby a tongue bath is what I like
Lick me up, lick me down, curve my appetite
Let me open up my legs, show me what you got
The way you licking on my body's got me really hot
And I'm loving the way you lick me though
Do it little daddy, let your tongue take control
You got me shaking like hell when you're licking my toes
From the top to the bottom, make your tongue roll
Let me see you freak your body
I won't stop until you get enough
Anyway you want it, I'm with it
I just wanna get up in it
(You want a tongue bath, you need a tongue bath)
Let me see you freak your body
I won't stop until you get enough
A tongue bath, from the back
Oh yes, that'
song performed by by Ying Yang Twins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cry Of The Lonely...
i have heard the cry of the lonely,
the tree bent with grief for the ocean.
the squirrel who dreams of wings,
the mountain melting with need to wander.
the child orphaned by war or poverty,
the monk on fire for a world that's blind...
the beaten body in the prison cell,
the door opened, no one there.
the naked body weeping on an empty bed,
the voice calling without echo.
the tongue that walks the rainy night...
the moon hidden by clouds cold and distant.
the lonesome sound of the faraway train,
the lover who walks the garden...
the empty streets, the hollowed houses,
where not even the scent of memory lingers.
the bruised hand stuck in the pocket,
the letter never addressed.
the flower that bloomed, and no one saw,
the bent nail on the back of the shed....
the candle snuffed.... the last words lost...
lips swollen, set, and driven...
am i the cry, or just the shell,
that brushes against your heart without name?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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In The Dark
Make me fumble
Make me fall
Make my heart stop and start
To tremble uncontrollably
Let my eyes see fear make desire
Keep those who long apart
Forbid the kiss
And leave us innocent
Of the things some do in the dark
The things some do in the dark
The things some do in the dark
Make me remember
Make me forget
Make my mind unable
To force the body to do its will
Let it be right for belief and denial
To share a space in the heart and leave us only to imagine
About the things some do in the dark
The things some do in the dark
The things some do in the dark
Make me pretend
Make me expect
Things can go and come to pass
Without trial or tribulation
Let this life space and time
Leave my body with permanent marks
Faded scars and lines
But not a single impression
Of the things some do in the dark
The things some do in the dark
The things some do in the dark
Let me be tempted
Let me be torn
But make my thoughts pure and not
Morally corrupt in form
Let us sleep tonight
Let innocence lie in our dreams and secret hearts
With burning desire
A need to know and do
The things some do in the dark
The things some do in the dark
The things some do in the dark
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Cross Of Your Lips
I take Every Breath
With The Cross Of your lips
Giving thanks to my love
I am ay thank to you
In the spring of Love
And pray for me Mary
As We walk along
Together with Mary
Whose freedom is real and pure
Pardon me my sins
And give light to your heart
I take Every Breath (systole and diastole)
With The Cross Of your lips
Take me every step by step
Giving thanks to my love
In the name of the love
The Lovely spring session
spend with me of your Life
I take Every Breath
With The Cross Of your lips.
Maryangeta
poem by Khushi throne
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Clipped Wings
on clipped wings
i shall face you
my lion's teeth all pulled
my eagle's covered
my slimy skin rubbed
into softness
on this helplessness
i shall test you
what am i to you
if like a man stripped
of its riches and
grandeur
naked and cold
shall you still take
me in the comfort
of your body?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Feeling the Passion - Very Erotic you have been warned
Let me take you hold your body in my arms
Kissing those tender lips long and deep
Can you Feel my passion rise
Let us make love all through the night
Quickly decide, we must not waste a minute of time
Deftly remove all my clothes
Slowly I begin to caress your soft skin
My fingertips start to wander
Feeling the softness of you
Those tender breasts draw my fingers to them
Touching and stroking them
Covering your body with kisses
Over the curve of the breasts
Slowly reaching the nipples peak
Sucking with greedy abandon
The heat of our bodies rapidly rising
Breathing starts to increase
Panting harder wanting you now
Your body inviting
Moulding itself into mine
Thighs parted anticipating
Requesting my body’s presence
Obligingly I settle between them
Connecting to you
So slowly at first bodies moving in time
Reaching deeper into the depths of passion
Increasing the rate of heated attack
Faster rapier like movements
Lust consuming us both
Animalistic instincts taking over
Both wanting our own pleasure
Minds blocked to all other thoughts
Oh the passion
Faster we ride our primeval lust
Peaking explosively together
Tasted the essence of passion
Screaming my name in orgasm
Your body bucks with mine
We are as one, engulfed in each other
poem by Gordon D Wilkinson
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Don't just Walk.....
see the path, that’s the point to remember,
the timing persuade your body to hold up high
as the changing moment reset every time the
body move; let the head control every swing of
the arms and feet, be cautious and let the
prestige of your smile be the gesture of honor
of your well being
keep the facial mode reflected by the eyes that
looks to the ground, thou the chain forward the
holding stamina of the powerful lips, gear that
behold ear of every tongue that tell, wander
toward the breath of the nose, where the hair
watch the falling sweat embrace of words utter
for a sweet romance is the beginning of a
mutual indulgent of love
motionless push for a while and hold every
smile, the eternal harmony of melody between
focus, capsulate the intent of closeness and
unity of what meant to walk within the
boundary of hope and admiration, neither
behold the simple kiss; the touch is just but a
lasting lust of friendship
walk with dignity and hold on the simple step
of your feet, for the last hurdle is the beginning
of a faster walk my dear and the final line don't
wait for today, yet you’re almost near to follow
the leads
melt your strength and run......
poem by Antonio Liao
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383
a word from you, then you stop
something choppy
i like to listen more from you
another word, cut into half
i am having a hard time
figuring out what is there
with you that wants to hold
me, i stop to listen again,
some scratches from your
tongue, some gnashing from
your teeth, i am listening still,
some more words, more of
pauses, like some commas
are constructed by you on
purpose, i am tired in this,
i am impatient, you stretch
your arms to reach me again,
as i go nearer tapping my ears,
for you, yet there is this
suppression of meaning,
i am listening still, you
close your eyes and then
open them, this time some
tears fall, like ripe drops
of rain from dark clouds,
i see, your heart is broken
and your mind cannot
understand perfectly,
your mouth haggles
with words that your
tongue cannot form
simply because love is always misunderstood.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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