Sunday, 10 November 2013

Drool

Drool.


Its only just past midnight,

I could seduce you now (of course I could)
I just cant decide how.

I'm hazy( even with my one track mind)
Everything
From the roots of my hair to my stiff toes,
Is stern but excitable
Like the edge of a raised whip.

I could be forward, cheeky,
Stride up to you like the secretary in glasses,
From those cheap erotic novellas, selling on footpaths;
And just eat out your face (There. Sigh).
Or do I have to measure out big words
And write you a fancy poem
To tell You what I need?

Or I could sit back, and play your
Innocent, aloof princess, tucking hair behind her ear,
Like in those Oh-so-phony music videos, that always make me 
Cringe and splutter and change the channel. 
And have you come to me, and eat out my face (sigh).
Or do I have to look up the big words I've learnt,
And write you a fancy poem
To tell You what I need?

These clumsy words, that drool down my tongue
These traces of kohl, dragged under my eyes
Are all I have, to tell You what I need.





Saturday, 9 November 2013

Burn

Burn

Everything I've known is burning.

My style,my work, my rhymes, years of practice.
The remains sit there sloppily, like those posers at rock concerts.
Like their pretentious t-shirts that I once coveted, all blah-blah.
Its burnt, all of it.
Yes? Yes, b'bye.
My tears burn before they fall to the ground.

This house I built for you, for us, with those wild violet flowers 
Growing into the window; We never did find out what they were called. 
The cold fire dances so fluidly, oh, I'm so hypnotized, I cannot cry,
I cannot think, I cannot love, I cannot hold you back.
Its burnt now, all of it.
No, please? Yes, b'bye.
The tears come too late, and burn before they touch the ground.

Then the fire swims to my feet and stops, waiting.
I jump in mechanically, headfirst, and don't feel a thing.

I'm all burnt, anyway.