Fulmah's Thoughts

[fulmah]

thoughts: part one

inspired by the band hum... and life over the course of one particular july

I.
you swore that magnets wouldn´t ruin the tv,
that the moons elipse wouldn´t keep us from sleep
but there´s purple in the bottom-right corner
i´m awake & hungry & there´s nothing to eat
and the bathroom sink isn´t dripping
and there´s not a rat in the attic
plotting our bloody murder
but there is & there is
and you should never mention
schizophrenia around a crazy man
unless a burning bush stated holy decree or
chiseled out commandments; say this but don´t
look them in the eye when you´re hiding facts:
--what happened today after work?
--who was that girl in your photo album?
remember to look down before answering.

[fulmah]

thoughts: part II

lightning struck the house again
and power´s out, cable´s down
no southpark at midnight
just the dark & time to think
on crushing voltage crashing down
on white-hot electrons, the peal of thunder
on a shockwave spreading for miles around.
And you´re away in dreams of raver-beads
thunder turned to bass-kick & techno-pop
dancefloor powered by a supercell, driving
the party to screams & a feeling that´s
inexplicable / undefinable / enigmatic
just as the how and why of tornadoes.

You´re afraid of cyclonic motion
of breakneck winds & destruction
but you´re sleeping through a thunderstorm
not even disturbed; I can´t understand
how your age changes with the lunar calendar
and did you catch the news last night?
this month there will be two blue moons,
venus & mercury are in equilibrium
the 900# astrologists are frenzied
commercials running 24 hrs a day.

how long will it take for science
to catch up or capture spirituality
the duodat of ancient sumeria
take us to heaven in fire & smoke
the cause & effect of a cigarette
is the same as a launching rocketship
as a meteorite entering the atmosphere
as my blood when your eyes turn to me
like meeting the gaze of a basilisk
the termperature´s such that it shocks the nerves
is why you´ve noticed my nervousness
in a public place, let alone a dinner date
how to act / what to say / how close to get
when i just want to get away from prying eyes
with their teeth & unimportant thoughts
but when your dream is to entertain an audience
you get used to examining public opinion.

[fulmah]

thoughts: part III

you’d swear there’s some planetary configuration
that maybe mars pulling on venus is chaos affecting affection
and I understand, agree, it appears everyone’s afflicted
with second guessing themselves, unsure if their feet
can feel the ground, is it solid or are they sinking
into a swamp of drowsy, drugged up dreams
dug up from countless subconscious caverns
and I can tell you now, don’t ever listen
to an appealing person appearing from thin air
they’re simply air, weightless, an apparition
with words / thoughts / feelings that turn to fog
and dissipate once exposed to sunlight.
parapsychologists will go on to explain
the earths magnetic field, an underground lake
and a high quantity of electricity will create
some pretty fucked up things; waking dreams
that leave cuts on your ankles, blood in the tub,
the smell of earth and a spine tingling feeling
you’re deep in this hole about to be filled
and you can believe this new-age science stuff,
study the stars, mark the movement of constellations;
I’m not saying there’s any proof of the paranormal,
Just that everything’s fucked up, that’s all.

[fulmah]

thoughts: part IV

a summer night and it’s actually kind of chilly
the hairs on my arm are on end, I’m trembling
and it could be hunger, anger, apprehension
or recognition of odd behavior; hot and cold
and snow, I swear it could snow thirteen feet
this july night and I’d not be stunned, in fact
it would fit perfectly, represent the feeling
that body, mind, and spirit are going numb.

the coke cap said please try again
so I called, to get what, I don’t know;
happiness to hear from a friend,
to feel a desire to see this face
and I found out that yes,
there’s almost nothing left
and so I’ll adjust the attitude
not call, not push, and not care.

and so all weekend I was at the new apartment
and it was quiet, and my mind wasn’t racing over
the review of mistakes or the harm of heartache;
I felt like healing using nothing but intelligence
the power of the brain is the same as a bullet
as a ten ton wrecking ball breaking buildings apart
the strength is such that it stretches beliefs
and now I believe pressure shrinks the world
so I’ll go reactive, live only by responses.

[fulmah]

these skinny arms are elasticized,
stretched between two telephone poles
and can’t take more torture, so please
don’t remind me we were once friends
that we’ve been stranded together
with no electricity no hot water when
those inches of snow stuck to the street
and we buried the beer on the deck
and dug under the blankets
and survived off of body heat
I don’t want to remember
the bombardment of our faery tales
the evocations countless poems create
shut these preoccupied eyes,
go to another place, think

about what? this stellar year in review?
permanent full moon madness fell
and no amount of anti-matter
could reverse the tidal destruction
and so the oil leaked out
my engine blew
I moved
returned to the starting line
you got back that wrecking ball
and flew so fast away
I turned into a pessimist
just like that

just one more chance, she asks
can’t the coffee house accommodate
two comets on a collision course
her eyelashes fling hypnotic hooks
I shuffle my feet indecisively
and thank god I remember

[fulmah]

five thirty five thursday

(inspired and based on "heat factory" by GauchoTony)

four fifteen pm tuesday
and the sun coming down
in spotted beams from kudzu vines
over the window
and can you imagine if I approached like that
all disconnected, intense and blinding?
people would flinch make fun fall in love
cross my heart hope to die
there´s an angel there stepped off a cumulus
almost makes me believe in god cos
divinity sculpted into the shape of her shoulders
her tricepts, I kid you not I´d do anything
to cut to the point to talk about
that pink kitty-cat stamped on her shirt
and stop the chit-chat
and so
we smoked all night, watched high fidelity
it was the strangest because at seven
reality started matching the movie
telephone rang when it rang
someone came over when they did
then someone sang let´s get it on
and we went to my bedroom
I said this will last only twenty minutes
but that was yesterday and we still haven´t slept
and today like now we´re still here talking
about things that really matter
and we´re strangers
two totally different creatures, really
she thinks she´ll leave and I won´t call
but how in the world do you get off
and not sleep and not call
someone the next day
and be able to live your life.
I am as average as anybody, I know
my looks my wits won´t win a war
but I don´t know if you´ve a middle name
but you´re not married and that´s something.
while she was here I kept asking
are we ghosts on the dust in the light
coming in through the window
or will there be a saturday morning
when after I wake up and wash up we´ll meet
I mean I´d like to know this isn´t dreaming
but she wouldn´t answer, just moved her hips
so it, I mean so I was rubbing
and her hair fell over her eyes
not so she couldn´t see, just covering
and I noticed a hemp choker necklace
and reached behind her back
and she jumped, started laughing
and I really thought that after a nap
she´d be gone, that I´d never know
the calm on her face in the morning
that it´d be five thirty five on thursday
and I´d be writing this feeling sorry.

[KittenX]

I love -elasticized-

Talking about your ex?
Great stuff, I've read about one third so far...slowly but surely I'll get through it.

[fulmah]

Talking about your ex?

Yep, it's yet another addition to the family :cool: All the others are too, for that matter...

[fulmah]

ocular assisted, tattle-tale communication
decodes emotional transmissions, routes them
out her iris to the notepad where i record
the paths of lions stalking her spikes
how her toes taste oxygen but still
feet don’t get dirty from dancing.

her arms move in patterns,
& she twists her wrists to match
the growl of an angry sound
driven by a furious drumbeat.
she whispers, she smiles and with
a quiet, cat-like quick look
her eyes swerve to the side-line
and the up-link cuts loose, i drift
to find delusion on a unstable stool
rock forward-- remember an aftertaste…
return back-- music holds no rhythm…
the lights blind and so i’m in my car
to get home to get drunk to get sleep

[fulmah]

revised: over many days / weeks

the apartment smelled of incense
strawberry creme and peppermint smoke
and we were on the floor
in the envelope of clean air
between the cloud and the carpet

the lamps were on
your eyes looked outsized
and if you were cold to the touch
or always staring up at the stars
or just hated all human beings, well
I'd believe you were an alien

maybe you've only some of their blood
awarding an ease for complicated math,
are a hybrid race with paranormal powers
can read the innermost thoughts and desires
have the ability to walk through walls
and anyhow, I must admit, seems unlikely

so just hold still, I won't kill you
or tell you to close your eyes
because I'm melting,
these thin wax arms fuel the wick
and there's no word strong enough
to make a body combustible
but you whisper to me
and I'm on fucking fire

the moment will elapse eventually
and we'll pass out in the early morning
talking about those crazies at i-hop
bound by horomones, insecurity,
and unrelenting intake
there's such a lack of character,
charisma tombed in neurotic slug-shells
still at school playing follow-the-leader,
finger over lips :: quiet little mice.

[KittenX]

Rated the thread - exceeeelent.

A lot of personal things here, it's real interesting and a pleasure to read.

[fulmah]

I’ve heard that hands can heal
could comfort with only their heat
and speak the deepest of desires
using only the slightest pressure.
hands once touched my chest
and kid you not I arched
my back and ached for those nails
to tunnel through the skin
break bones & tear tissue
I wanted to feel
her emotions in my blood
I wanted to taste
the tremble of her lip
I wanted the world
to catch fire in its awe
but it didn’t, it’s still cold
and cruel to honest sentiment.
It turned my familiar neighborhood
into a dark jungle of mean things
lurking in the shadows
salivating for a tattered, confused kill
who took a wrong road somewhere
and just sits there expecting
two hands to reach down
and pull me away from this.

I mean, this constant escalation
every day a tempest, a maelstrom;
if I could but conjure magic
say a few forgotten mystic words,
with a motion of my hands
these events would slow down
so I could examine the significance
of a stray, wounded feeling
the composition of friendship
and how I ended up backwards
staring point-blank into a pillow
with every inch of commitment
blasted, scattered into the millions.

my hands are shaking
from a lack of food
and while I may not die
my body might grow so thin
the wind could pull me toward the window
and the light would still shine in.

[KittenX]

Awesome!!!

my hands are shaking
from a lack of food
and while I may not die
my body might grow so thin
the wind could pull me toward the window
and the light would still shine in.

*applauds* That's just perfect...

[fulmah]

so I don’t ask questions
am afraid of coming off
dim-witted mindless hollow
it’s a dark corner of the closet
a deadpan to solar energy
imposing premonitions
telepathic abilities
a flash a vision

you had a headache
behind the eyes
along the line
dividing left brain from right
at the joining of the jaw
and buried in the temples
and you were crying
not so you choked, just
shaking small tears
out shut lids

I wish I’d studied acupuncture
long needles, pressure points, nerves
little rings of knots along the neck
that I could diagnose and contest
in a burst of neurological success
but I dropped out of college
they lost my file, I swear
I was studying psychology
social behavior / psychoses
the composition of people
who wash their hands
who can’t go outside
who can’t commit

and I’ll commit to science now
the chemical path feelings follow
electrical pulses in the thalamus
I’ve developed actualized tendencies
a positive environmental view
this office with no windows
a computer, a phone, a radio
is everything I’ve wanted
minus the eight hour routine
but such is therapeutical theory
the desires of people everywhere
to relax in their summer wardrobe

[fulmah]

I came across this girl yesterday
and all I can say is fuck, and oh my,
for although there was a gloom
falling from beneath her eyes
there was still this glitter, or glow
and it wasn’t from a consequence
of lamp, candle, or kitchen light
but spirit, and yes, I know
it’s a rundown word
but there it was
in every glance
& movement

and there I was, on the couch
it always seems the couch
delivers recognition, but no,
there was a glimpse, a revelation
this girl speaks brilliantly
and I’ll be damned, I know
bricks will never bust
perception from their blow
but a lesson was released;
I met a girl
wonderfully familiar
to another I knew

[fulmah]

I stared at her face, caught up
in a frail attempt to describe her.

she was the gold/orange glow
that outreached the skyline
about to burst over the horizon
and send the world blinding light,
raise the temperature by body-heat.
she sketched my vital organs
my skin, spirit and psyche
in that five-star notebook
she hid in her blue handbag, or
on the floor somewhere in her room.

my heart was forced to become a fan
to cool the flow of her fluid dark beauty.

I saw all this in the reflection
of those blue gray green eyes
as she glimpsed at me, sending
a shock of electricity
from the shock of perfection
that hits me every time
our eyes touch wires together.

this was all distant now;
distant as the stars we wished on.
still, I remember that I wished for

eyes that’d bury time in an elastic brain
of waterfall thoughts, pained past memories
mixed equally with the pleasure of the moment.

there were complete weekends spent
with the door locked, the lights off
our clothes in the dark under the bed,
us under covers pleasure-dancing and
she’d leak hushed abbreviated groans,
shiver for five/ten minutes afterward
in an embrace as we caught breath.
she made me think, for the first time,
eros is instinct, passion primal
like a predestined twitch you catch
in the fog of approaching headlights.
I ran a finger down her spine
judging what the response would be
of every fine, barely visible hair.
I thought I knew every inch of her
as if I’d written the screenplay
on her involuntary reactions.
I forgot that shadows are stealthy,
that they hid in those dark specks
not noticeable in the color of her eyes.
so now I stand here in my best shirt
staring nervously at my shoes,
trying to advance my feet forward

[fulmah]

Anti-Terrestrial and College Optics

I.
I'm away from myself,
dancing waltzes in ballrooms,
asleep on the porch in a chair.
My partner's a mysterious lady
who grew from a rosebush,
blushing all the while.
She had the grace of a swan
in an emerald gown,
green eyes alive, staring.
Her beauty alone prooved
this was nothing but a dream.

We danced to a funked up
Turkish ballroom piece
which blitzed us to attempt moves
that nearly tripped our feet.
Spin and dip when oboes
jazz it up.
Look her in the eye when
finger cymbals tinkle
the tune obscure.

Soon we settled into
mechanical steps
and began conversation.
We talked of my neighbors,
a sizable family of nineteen.
Every other year
one would disappear;
they claimed this was due
to aliens.

Rose said she wasn't sure,
the unsteady eyes when they talk
make her nervous;
these aliens are probably
projected from characters
as reality to forget reality.

I gotta agree on grounds
that I've witnessed their shakes,
one night I swear
they ate dirt for dinner,
smiling like it was food
fit for royal court.

II.
The dance slowed, stopped;
conversation ended
with her inability to believe:
she's anti-terrestrial,
that's all.

A quick run on Latin drums
announced our favorite dance, the samba.
No hesitation, we hurled ourselves
onto the floor: exotic dancing fray.
I looked at her with college hormones,
saw that dress riding her thigh
in imitation of x-rated movies I've seen;
nearly passed out when she threw a
kick high above her head.

But I matched her
in both grace and style,
the fever was in my blood.
We were synchronized,
mirrors to each others moves.
Our hips popped
and we glided along the floor
like floating ghosts.
I twirled her out then snapped
her back into a lullaby motion,
smooth rock, side to side.

I was getting tired and Rose
knew the time had come:
the rise back to reality.
The knowledge sat on my nose
and stared me in the eye.
Maybe she could come with me;
there's got to be some inbetween fate
where every moment I'm awake doesn't
resemble watered down champagne.

[KittenX]

Love your flow in -met a girl-. It was so light and fluid, I got carried away down the steam of your thoughts.

[KittenX]

"Anti-Terrestrial and College Optics"
Made me grin!! What a dream...so visual and vivid, I could picture everything perfectly and I liked what I saw..by the end of it I felt as if I was the one dancing and was a bit fatigued!

"The knowledge sat on my nose
and stared me in the eye."

I love these two lines, absolutely lovely.

"Maybe she could come with me;
there's got to be some inbetween fate
where every moment I'm awake doesn't
resemble watered down champagne."

And of course the ending is delicious...Watered down champagne...I love what you made it imply with style and wit.

[fulmah]

thanks for the feedback KX, always a pleasure to hear your perspective... and now back to storytime....

bumble-bee blonde

it was cross galactic antipodes joining,
pulling me and the bumble-bee blonde
into the same taphouse one saturday afternoon.
sitting at the bar sipping old mcdowell
talking ghosts and wielding magic wands;
she yields heavy spark showers:
dense golden stars pouring off her shoulders.

she revives kinetic kids, high school
forget-me-nots playing practice games
where a stolen kiss beneath the stairs
might take your breath away, might
leave you with that smell of perfume
locked in a cerebral recollection room.
she´s eyes and smiles, bound up, wrapped
in a net of lightning bolts set to let loose.

bee´s buzz-dance, flutter-fly her wardrobe
into black and yellow, every garmet black
and yellow. in a new culture fashion, big pants
and untucked t-shirt, i´m thinking we don´t fit
but we do cos this is destiny, fate, kismet.
we´re here tossing talking hooks for a reason,
precise destination preprogrammed already
so we can say whatever with no regard.
what´s really going on, i don´t know, i´m just
drunk, disordered, spilling my first thoughts
while attempting to leave an in and out,
while trying to figure whether my perception
of her hasn´t distorted the reality.

[KittenX]

I like how -bumble bee blonde- slips off the tongue.
Great realism entwined with mysticism. Kismet, destiny, stars.
Do me a favor if ya could read my -Fatalist- poem on page 2 of my thread, I wonder what you'd think of it.

[gesone]

I see you like using a lot of alliteration. The advantage of alliteration is that it creates a natural rhythm in the lines which makes the poem enjoyable to read. You also have great image, your diction is nicely constructed in those areas. Congrats! Keep writing!

[fulmah]

and your name becomes
the mist a whisper invents
on the lip of a wine glass
as response to rude comment
becomes refracted light
from crystal end over end
that crashes on the wall
and becomes blood
splattered on the ceiling
staining the carpet
creating the future
an impenetrable
and ugly fate
becomes
now today tomorrow
what history becomes
has been written now
your photographs
on fire
your phone # forgotten
your face becomes erased

[fulmah]

wrote this a few minutes ago... lots of coincidence going on today... some of the things in KittenX's thread sparked this and I ran with it, forgive me for embellishing ;)

…Cos when Maynard sang,
"one and one are one, eleven"
it was prophesy on fire
out of my speakers
defying immutable logic
immitating omnipotent voice
the full width of which
lies forgotten in the deck
till you get in your car
and go to lunch
and hear it
crank back up

and then, to jazz it up,
two turkish images coalesced
and danced
and I don’t believe in coincidence
and while probability is of consequence

fuck math

lightning bolts
strike lightning rods
many, many times
the dead are revived
by god, if you’ve faith
and probability
is probably bullshit;
one plus one
equals eleven

[KittenX]

Wooty! That's a nifty piece. But it's Maynard, not Meynard.

Fuck math indeed.

[fulmah]

But it's Maynard, not Meynard.
Dammit! :$ I knew that.... edited

and thx for feedback KX and gesone!

[sylvanlightning]

and your name becomes
the mist a whisper invents
on the lip of a wine glass

I love the transitory imagery here. Your work is heartfelt and passionate. Thank you for sharing.

[fulmah]

4 nights in a line and the whole time
alcohol numbed the nerves and slowed the mind
and we slept as the strep went scarlet
with little red bumps growing on her skin
causing concern than builds anxious tension
and it’s got to be confusing, not knowing
what the roots of the problems are
the aches seem to be closing in
wrapping infected tentacles, covering her skin


and I have to confess, our history hurt
and it leaves me bitter, wanting revenge
wanting to cut into her psychoses
But it’s not right; an unwarranted attack
Just to get back, snap that spine in half
Is too strong a momentary emotion
So tell me what am I supposed to feel
The boy with a decaying smile
Too afraid to brush his fingers against her
Too scared to care to think about her pain
Is behind the wheel of these 4-doors again
Driving down the road with the windows cracked
In an insignificant black, blue, broken world
Created by sense of fucking humanity
Created by being the bigger person,
And it will break me, too. I’ll be blinded by
How she likes to cook and crate vegetarian meals
How she bites her bottom lip in mischievous spells
And the confusion will creep thick smoke blankets
Contaminating the clean air of current thought
And what’s real will escape
And so she’ll sleep ignorant and safe
From the shadow that just crossed my face

[littleskinny]

Great collection - you have a feel for the shape and taste of words! Highlights of the lot are, in my opinion: first stanza of "elasticized", the ending of "connection" (esp the last line - love love love it), the whole of "on the floor" - a sensual extravaganza" and finally the painting that is "Anti-territorial & College Optics".


I'll keep popping in.....

[fulmah]

Thanks for stopping in Sylvan and Lil Skinny! Glad you derived enjoyment from some of these :sunglasse

[fulmah]

laura’s in synche with doug
laying down foundations
to deep conversations.
the subject: evolution of the brain
during a single life span
and the mental adaptations
rerouted neural paths
and stimulants
that make them permanent.

the party has crowded around
college kids with cheap keg cups
listening and fascinated
by the couples iris bombs,
strings of enlightenment,
woven intelligent words,
the pattern pieced together
when the comment is made
laura and doug are talking
in iambic pantameter.
they talk eclectic, their voices
echo spaghetti-western reverb,
that low bass feedback
lingering in a hushed room
stale as a lost pack of cigarettes.

laura swears she’s margarita,
cold as ice, topped with salt.
she’s the slurred hammer
put the boys down
after only a sip.
three o’clock strikes and
the house is nearly empty.
she’s laying with him on the floor
ocean carpet rolling wild
with an ear ringing backdrop
resting in the psyche
with an observed permanence.

laura looks over, notices that
doug possesses grizzly bear hair,
a rough punk peach fuzz beard
and shady mentality not worried about
crazy shit that happens sometimes.
laura is all smiles and horomones
are getting thick in her chemistry.
her mind spinning cartwheels,
calm is a pipe bomb
with a fuze half burned
and satin thoughts are getting
loud in her body language.

closed closet day dream,
mental peaks, creeping webs
of dark’s ribbon thread
around torn reality thrusting thru
rhythmic lung explosions
watery eyes and fire
she’s an emotional avalanche,
a passion ripped whimper
from the forming thought
that this is wrong.

[KittenX]

Amazing story telling and word play! Each line offers something extravagantly new and refreshing.
Excellent piece fulmah.

[fulmah]

Something about this one's just not right to me... any ideas anyone? is it crap and scrap it?

morning came, clouds answering questions,
thick as thunderstorms, hailstones
crashing flashbacks of the night before
with the haunting technicolor
of a dreams hypnotic touch…

mclaughlins fingers of fire shivering
wailing distorted soundscapes;
each note a phoenix brought to life
to die as the next is born

suzanne’s listening from the lay-z-boy,
head down, brown hair hanging over a face
of soft, angelic, innocent curves; and
i tell her she's cleopatra, watch her try to
respond, but shy, she gives up and so
I offer youngs double chocolate stout;
"cheers", start drinking then
all goes grey

its about four hours later, i guess.
beer bottle caps are a minefield
across the bedroom floor.
clock radio says its 3:18am
and i dont know what we've done
but shes blanketing me,
head on my shoulder
and slick skin.

she's waking up, mumbling
an irresistable sirens symphony
calling me to her arms
so i kiss her quiet
sail back to dream.

sunlight is cruel
to drunk, passed out yes,
prying them seperated, forcing
attention to poorly composed pop-rock
that's conquered my clock radio.
suzanne left in the early morning,
poor girl split her foot on a cap,
spilt blood and stumbled into her clothes,
couldn't put on her shoes: they're still here.

out of bed and dressed
and into the kitchen, i grated cheese
for scrambled eggs, then saw
the note on the refrigerator.

[fulmah]

I’ve some of her hair, I’ve made a doll
it’s in the closet on a clothes hanger
disguised to be a dragon
breathing fire & wreaking havok
wrecking my possessions on the shelf
wrinkling my work shirts, my jackets

so, I’ll dance to tribal drums
chant the spell for shaman eyes
and while I may not be an astronaut
here goes my mind to the oort cloud
home of comets and planet x
with the solar system far below
here I can weave the gravities
into a waterslide, a wormhole,
some kind of dimensional expressway
that contains control of the dragon
& will put out the fire
& say her name 3 times
& light some candles
till the smoke begins to float
against the wind
into the dragons mouth
against the laws of physics

one day she’ll open the closet door
see it hanging there: a little her.
eyes: the same, lips: the same,
the same shape of her face
and everything else proportional

and what would I say to her
everything you feel is programmed
are the effects of a spell
that creates pheremones
to attract & pull attention
to braid your brain with:
this is the real thing, no faery tale
this is the forever that hardens diamonds
this is that kiss-the-bride camera flash
and there’s nothing you can do.

[sylvanlightning]

I’ve some of her hair, I’ve made a doll
it’s in the closet on a clothes hanger
disguised to be a dragon
breathing fire & wreaking havok
wrecking my possessions on the shelf
wrinkling my work shirts, my jackets

so, I’ll dance to tribal drums
chant the spell for shaman eyes
and while I may not be an astronaut
here goes my mind to the oort cloud
home of comets and planet x
with the solar system far below
here I can weave the gravities
into a waterslide, a wormhole,
some kind of dimensional expressway
that contains control of the dragon
& will put out the fire
& say her name 3 times
& light some candles
till the smoke begins to float
against the wind
into the dragons mouth
against the laws of physics

one day she’ll open the closet door
see it hanging there: a little her.
eyes: the same, lips: the same,
the same shape of her face
and everything else proportional

and what would I say to her
everything you feel is programmed
are the effects of a spell
that creates pheremones
to attract & pull attention
to braid your brain with:
this is the real thing, no faery tale
this is the forever that hardens diamonds
this is that kiss-the-bride camera flash
and there’s nothing you can do.


This is immersive. I love the texture of your relationships. Your inspiring me to create another thread of my beloveds diamond flashes :)

[fulmah]

a countdown came creeping across the apartment
as a viscous ticking clock with alarm set to toll
& pitching elbows on the coffee table, I watched
the hands with silver fingernails flip another card.
she howled, "fuck!" and flung her arms in the air
& right then I was thinking, something’s happening
& right then thunder assaulted the house & our ears
just as she won the game: it was godly proclamation
of fuck, thunder, a heave-to of heavy vibrations
that left windows rattling; that left me dumbfounded
and figuring that though the world’s not terminated
that even if the chance of another bolt is low
I think I’ll accept defeat & make no challenges

well, maybe I’ll formally apologize
for the failed repair of electrical codes
the brain composes into words
that the tongue can speak...
cos right now I’m stuttering,
blaming predictions:
the five of cups fell
and for all its warnings
I felt we could hold together
the disintegrating communication
I thought we could call off
the bedroom battles, but
we spit bullets, spilt blood
broke bottles, lamps, and bones
and if you didn’t already know

calendars compiled of such events
will quickly wreck your humanity
create a defensive beast, on guard,
expecting attack at any time.
it's a technique interrogators use
to break the sense of self
and applied to any couple…
a long, ugly end.

[osiris]

indeed, careful must we be that the cups do not floweth over, fattening us on a pleasure we would take for granted, stagnating our power of going, and our ability for knowing. Wouldst thou will to love, or dost thou love to will? The difference is so subtle, yet the distinction is so important. Let us not lose sight, lest we decieve our selves. Indeed, let us lose our selves, and regain any sight we may have lost. There is triumph here in these apparent seeds of decay. Will you go with the flow, or be dragged under, fighting the undertow?

We must ask ourselves, and meditate long on the matter:

"Which is stronger, the Water or the Rock?"

Much Love ;)

[fulmah]

Thanks for the feedback Dope and Osiris... and Osiris, wow; great response... very thought provoking, least for me...

Will you go with the flow, or be dragged under, fighting the undertow?
Precisely right probably 90% of the time, this occurred due to that 10% other-world... If you go with the flow, and be dragged under. Will to love or love to will; does it matter if your partner is unconsciously applying an extremely subtle, powerful form of emotional abuse? Not too pretty a train of thought... but as G.I. Joe said, knowing is half the battle! Here's to the prettier days ahead....

Thanks for this brief moment of reflection....

[fulmah]

around the base of stretching skyscrapers
a limited perspective was introduced
as I tiptoed behind a cute brunette
who wore a reckless white tank-top.
ambition attached itself to my stomach
as attention focused on the space
between her shoulder blades
right where the spine starts to emerge
to mix composites for cerebral connection.

I was watching her muscles move
and how her spine stuck out in a weird way
when she turned around, looked right at me.
I blinked

and we were at my place
with two months on the clock
the window open and her clothes
four stories below on the sidewalk;
and had I been given powers to
_____predict her favorite songwriter
_____control her every thought
_____perform the moves that
_____make her scream
I might have moved before now
or at least brought some lubricants
I mean, I should have at least suspected
but no, here I am, face inflamed
wondering if her ex-boyfriend
wants to beat me up
a punch to the chin,
it’s no lie, I’d fall
like her clothes, out the window
floating down between buildings
landing among so many feet
that after she came running to look
she’d find only dirty ragged remnants
of her only airborne lover

we went to sleep well beyond midnight
and the pillow got hot, muscles got tense
leaving me rolling over all night
but still I managed to catch
the zzz’s, the sheep on the fence
whatever, I woke up trying to breath
and the ceiling was nowhere in sight
guess I passed out on my stomach
she seemed to think that important
"you hide in the dark
but light gets in anyway"

yes, I got stepped on.
It left me stunned, stumbling
down dark, dirty streets.
recollection rpm’s redlined,
and at the point of implosion
how was I to know I’d find
two shoulder blades & a spine

[sylvanlightning]

Gripping, blazing & sensual. Loved these lines the best. I admire your perceptions. The contours and beauty, caught by your eye, is not that of the obsessive norm. I enjoyed lingering with you on the shoulder blades and spine. Your imbedded OBE was subtle and the implosion imagery very effective.

[osiris]

"does it matter if your partner is unconsciously applying an extremely subtle, powerful form of emotional abuse?"

it matters not what others do if we are willing to stand tall and flow through. Believe this when I tell you: You have, in turn, have given me strength to go forth with my ordeal, and I thank you.

much love :)

[fulmah]

Thanks for commenting, Sylvan and Osiris!

This should really be kind of an introduction, or insight to some of the stuff I wright. It was written, I think, by a psychologist to describe the way a certain type of people think...

Rescue me, by leaving me alone...it'll kill me. I need you to rescue me if I am to live. I am not alive. I am dead when I try to be alive. I am alive when I act like I'm so dead I can't feel anything. There is such a sharp feel to the pain of numbness. Where do the feelings go? Where does all of that pain hide? I dissociate from all that hurts. I give it to others. It is their fault, and their problem, not mine. Help me, while you leave me alone. Leave me alone while you help me. NOW!

Truth, you want to talk truth? Whose truth, yours or mine? Is there a truth between? No, my truth is truth. Your idea of truth is a lie. I don't lie. If I don't lie and our truths aren't the same that makes you a liar. Does so....just does. If I am right then you are wrong. Yes you are. No I'm not. If I am good then you are bad if you don't agree with me and or see things my way. My way isn't just right, it is the only way. What matters is what I want and need. That's my truth. And my truth is the truth. Don't you even try to lie to me, don't...

I am the center of the universe. Yes I am. I am it and it is me. I will act this way too, if I feel like it. No, you can't win. I will win. I'll get you coming and I'll get you going and there will be no way that you can win. I must always win. I need to control because I feel so helplessly out of control, but you can't know that. You can't know that okay, you don't know that about me. I don't know that about me. I don't know you and cause I don't know me. You can't know me either. No, I won't let you in to a place that I have yet to gain access to. No, me first.

Who am I? I thought I knew just a minute ago. Then, suddenly nothing felt familiar anymore. Nothing felt okay anymore: nothing felt SAFE anymore - nothing felt as it had before. Why does this happen and what does it mean? What do you mean you don't know? You are supposed to know. I expect you to know. And if I expect it then I have a right to demand it from you. Don't go asking me for anything, NO, it depends how I feel, and what I believe in any given moment...you just never can know cause I never know what I'll do or say or feel. Every moment changes and shifts from one to the next. What is real, what is truth, whether or not I think I can take care of myself or what I feel, or right or wrong, from minute to minute changes, so I really just don't know. I don't care to know. Don't bother me about it. Leave me alone, just stay here. And be quiet while you talk to me. Talk to me silently. Words can hurt. Don't be too quiet in your silence though, because silence can kill a soul. I know, it killed mine over and over again.

[fulmah]

herbal remedies in her pocket book
strengthening blood, targeting antigens
with infiltrating echinacea incisions
inserting reinforced cough suppressants,
armored brigades of decongestants
and for support of the flanks:
tanks with anti-inflammatory shells.

nausea turned to fatigue.
I saw the tremors of restlessness
heard the high pitched whine
from moderate bronchial infection
and trembled in sympathetic anxiety.
doctors came and diagnosed
an aggravated sinusitis disorder
that spread beyond their stethascopes
to swell the lymphatic vessels
and I cramped from futility

as the scythe came for my intentions
to bury any fragment of buoyancy
that kept me above dark depths.
I poured one last cup of tea
and saw the herbal antigens
prepare shields of purpose,
thicken blood and resolve
as it entered the stream.

[KittenX]

Ya've got so much boiling up in that mind of yers, it's fascinating to dig through all the layers and peel them off one by one. Deep, deep thoughts...

[fulmah]

note: please forgive the useage of the dreaded "L" word, love, king of cliches... I felt it was warranted.

summer eyes
I.

how in hell am I supposed to sleep
with this disposition toward current events?
living in this room, looking at my belongings
turn to ash right in front of me
so that I have to remain motionless
and take my breaths very cautiously
else all I know come crashing down
caving in to form one big dusty pile.

now, if I believe in heart, in following it
can I leave the windows down if she’s cellophane?
the wind could pick her, carry her away
and I’d not realize her gone till I got home.
That presence wouldn’t be around
to automatically liven a quiet room
with the lift of an eyebrow,
the crossing of a leg,
the shift of a lip
around a cigarette
and

will I ever heal? will it leave a scar?
will I wake up from this twisted nightmare
on any particular morning and see her there
on the pillow next to mine, with those
alluring almost alien eyes

II.

it’s so easy to stop and think,
and sink so low and lower still,
until you’re in the cold vacuum of space
unable to breath, to see, to talk and
the mind is focused but it’s failing fast
rewinding the past and replaying events
on the porch losing value in a violent flash
getting dumped for an immoral other

and so it’s all returned to trust
who is what at heart, and how I wish
we had those ancient oracles of greece
that would speak out valuable prophesies,
grant peace to the troubled, unraveled those
that think too much about this one girl
with her two cold feet. I remember
plenty a night, sharing a blanket,
squeezing together; talking until
our hearts entangled arteries
and everything in this fucked up world
was forgotten about; we were complete
and how is any someone to compete
with the comparison of near perfection
the figure, heart, persona and those eyes
they combined to strike and I reacted
by falling in love. Falling in fucking love.

III.

a poltergeist possessed my pen
left me finished on an unsuitable foot:
focused on finality, charging off and away
pissed off and angry at confusion, so listen up.
I felt there was a winged fairy in my life
that flew off to find some other flower
made me think, oh no – not this – too quick
and the thing of it was, there was no string
connected to her collar to keep her close
and when she came back roundabouts to talk
old flames were engaged and kindled attacks
but a fire will tire quick and afterwards I’d feel
my stomach cramp from habit, from guilt, from love
and it’s not my place to forgive nothing at all
but I will say forget anything you want
nothing’s critical but now and yet to come
and who’s to say what the stars portray
what Fate keeps hidden, off limits to us
it’s not to be guessed at and acted upon
all we can do is operate on inclination,
on instinct, on real knowledge and live
because that’s all there actually is.

[Razor Face]

I'm not sure, if this is what you were shooting for, but.. the third part reminded me of Mad Max. The 'listen up'... !! That was it! The meter or whatever, suggested the cadence from a character in that movie? The image of the fairy on a leash will stick with me too. Nice. Pay no attention to my take on poems? I likes what I likes. It really is a matter of personal taste to me.

[KittenX]

Sorry fulmah, but summereyes was hard to swallow, not just because of the length but because it didn't leave as striking of an impression as usually your poems do. I agree with Razor, that whole part III with the fairy on the leash was excellent and a few other tid bits here and there were also very appealing to the eye and the heart.
I gotta also comment on these lines that sound cliche, more cliche than as you assume the word -love- does (at least to me personally)
"will I ever heal? will it leave a scar?
will I wake up from this twisted nightmare"

Again I think the idea is there it's just the way you present it doesn't dig deep inside me. But that could just be me and what do I know?

[sylvanlightning]

Didn't mean to double post ... craft anew your dreams.

[sylvanlightning]

Sometimes I feel so insensitive. Do we always wound those that come close enough for us to love?

[fulmah]

thanks for the replies razor, kx, and sylvan! I threw summereyes up primarily because of sylvan's "book of secrets" and the raw emotion it had, and this one was the summary of a little zine I did when things were a bit raw; that would be my guess as to this ones nature. it's definitely still a work in progress, and I'll keep all comments in mind when I come back round to tweeking it out. the feedback is greatly appreciated, and thanks for reading! :cool:

[KittenX]

herbal remedies in her pocket book
strengthening blood, targeting antigens
with infiltrating echinacea incisions
inserting reinforced cough suppressants,
armored brigades of decongestants
and for support of the flanks:
tanks with anti-inflammatory shells.

nausea turned to fatigue.
I felt the tremors of restlessness
heard the high pitched whine
from moderate bronchial infection
and trembled in sympathetic anxiety.
doctors came and diagnosed
an aggravated sinusitis disorder
that spread beyond their stethascopes
to swell the lymphatic vessels
and I cramped from futility

as the scythe came for my intentions
to bury any fragment of buoyancy
that kept me above dark depths.
I poured one last cup of tea
and felt the herbal antigens
prepare shields of purpose,
thicken blood and resolve
as it entered the stream.
I have recently experienced a bit of, and I quote Skinny, an "obession with medical" poetry. And this one was an eye/mind candy for me!! Loved. Loved it. The medical enwined with the millitary diction tickled me.
One question though, why the first line says "her pocket book" but then throughout the poem you speak in 1st person? *scratches her head*

[sylvanlightning]

Just rereading what has been written and wanted to say how powerfuly you express this aloneness we all feel regardless of if we are in a relationship or not.

[fulmah]

title temporary

I.
you forgot i do it all,
i have dynamic imagination
exaggerate & talk static over the phone
but listen; buried beneath syllables & metaphors
there´s an ambiguity supplying correlation:
out on the porch smoking a cigarette
skin tingling from a wounding radience
still leaking from the screen door
forcing us further & further away.

so i become the earth with continental divides
a million faces with unlabeled qualities
unexplored wilderness & uncharted coasts
& polar opposites at times;
& every so often
i question the prominence of the pyramids
stretched along the giza plateau.
how did primitive man get so geometric
& fixated with orions belt
the circumference of the earth
it´s more than symbolism.


II.
i´m incapable of choreographing a dance
the motions are emotions, a flexing of the felt.
i´d rather depend on magic, the casting of a spell
to construct an 8 by 10 glossy photograph
moving at 60 frames per second,
that´s based on that first camera flash,
that coalesces in strobe-light sequence,
the effect being synergistic.

we should be products of hollywood script
but have no famous supporting cast,
hot shot producers, explosives, special effects
there should be no cliffs or cars plummeting
but i haven´t seen any movie camera recording
& we´ve mountains, rivers & a deep canyon
between north carolina and california.
III.
i´m not much of a wizard.
this magical staff won´t work.
you still sit knotted up
looking out the window
thinking the car door´s gonna open
your body bouncing off the road &
i know you´ve bruised your knee before
i know you´re talking to mission control
i know the space shuttle is heat resistent
& has technology i don´t understand
& i may not know what i´m talking about--
sorry, i prefer theoretical development
over the facts at hand.

[sylvanlightning]

Loved your new work.
The first part is so personal and familiar. Thank you for sharing it.

[fulmah]

Thanks for Responding KX and Sylvan! Feedback of any nature is always appreciated...

One question though, why the first line says "her pocket book" but then throughout the poem you speak in 1st person? *scratches her head*
Well, it's supposed to portray girl getting sick and taking lots of medicine, with my sympathetic observations narrating, but there were definitely a couple of inconsisties, which I changed to hopefully kinda capture a little better, although it's probably still a little confusing. ah well... mayhap I'll remove all the duality and leave it focused as either just my observations or a 3rd person story; but that shall be for a future date decision...

[KittenX]

Personal indeed, too cryptic for me as an outsider to grasp but I get a glimpse.

I.
you forgot i do it all,
i have dynamic imagination
exaggerate & talk static over the phone
but listen; buried beneath syllables & metaphors
there´s an ambiguity supplying correlation:
out on the porch smoking a cigarette
skin tingling from a wounding radience
still leaking from the screen door
forcing us further & further away.

so i become the earth with continental divides
a million faces with unlabeled qualities
unexplored wilderness & uncharted coasts
& polar opposites at times;
& every so often
i question the prominence of the pyramids
stretched along the giza plateau.
how did primitive man get so geometric
& fixated with orions belt
the circumference of the earth
it´s more than symbolism.

This part made the most sense to me and thus was the one I could appreciate the most.

[fulmah]

too cryptic for me as an outsider to grasp but I get a glimpse.
hehe... kinda what it's about... there's a coupla odd bits in there to grasp on too, the rest is just fluff er distraction cos I didn't want to get more specific... :)

[fulmah]

touch me right there

I.

astronomy apparatus targeted her
at the apogee from the orchestra seats
where the features of the face fade
and the hair converts into a corona
a frizzled fire of colored curls
and a sugared-up song about a girl
pretty and placed down on the floor
her muscles unwilling to move
to reach to open the door
and so, does her curtain fall
does she stage a curtain call
her best friend arrives and look
it’s a play, it tethers emotions
to a story line that drives away
in a car that stalls
leaving the story unresolved

II.

touch me right there recognizing
a touch a punch a pistol whip
it doesn’t matter, a 360 turn
and I think about what, I forgot
angels will never earn big bucks
selling their soul out of a trunk
and the people who stand stunned
at the blood and tears it contains
forgot their own skinned up knees
they forgot that pain
permeates their footsteps
so their brains change into satellites
transferring signal-pulse oh my god’s
oh please look in my direction one time
admit we’re a collision course of destiny
we’ll dance sing experience revelry
dance and sing and revelry

[fulmah]

it was a starved midnight ritual
the interstellar blond riding shotgun
tying back her hurricane hair
girling up in anticipation
for the corner booth marathon

cigarettes, lighter, twenty five dollars
all systems were check, we were a go
so we parked and crossed dimensions

ihop was refuge from reality
smoke ring nebulae above the tables
remnants of forgotten conversations
the ventilation couldn’t exorcise;
not that it bothered us, we were
the bantering binary cluster
propelling shit talk exhaust
out our volcanic mouths,
catapulting our sentences
as declaration of war
on the non-smoking section

at least
until
menus arrive.
we order
we wait
we eat
and

thick galactic grease combats our go-juice
with sober sedative upshot, the comedown
sparks cosmological conversation, we debate
invading the atrium to install democracy.
we declare, in corner booth manifesto:
those two hulks have gotta go,
enforcing a line on the regulars
is frowned upon ‘round here

policy enacted, we shell out $24.28
shuttle back to the car to go home.
fare well my pancake princess
till we rendezvous tomorrow
the ritual is complete.

[KittenX]

Great great stuff fulmah! Probably sounding like an old record here but I loved it!!
The seemingly ordinary, mundane described and embedded with such flair, visuals and cosmos, my goodness, how did you make it work?!

"it was a starved midnight ritual
the interstellar blond riding shotgun
tying back her hurricane hair
girling up in anticipation
for the corner booth marathon"

One of my favorite stanzas probably simply because it was the first but what followed was just as great. Bravo man.

[fulmah]

an oldie, but a goodie...

they say she floats and i wonder if she’s air
or using witches tricks to rest in clouds
oceans of vapor
on the wind
she told me that’s the picture
so present it with your theories, your geometry
made from integers, angles and imaginary #s
and what the hell is that, an arcimedian pen
writing recipes for the greatest designer drugs
methamphetamine panoramas
in the kitchen cooking
formulas for
sum = oxycontin shivers

faultlines rest in her fingerprints
and seismic needles dance
to the quakes across my shoulders
the aftershocks in that space
tucked down beneath the blades

looking at her in the morning light
grazing on the curve of her neck
the way her tongue comes out
touches that dimple above her lip
the resonance from the motion
a tidal wave from a comets crash
that in less than three minutes
will reach this side of the world
but not if time has stopped
which i know you don’t believe

but remember when you couldn’t breath
craved mashed potatoes & a baby spoon
somehow we got to twisting the clock
to make up for lost time, all these months
with our legs tangled in the covers
there was this voice chanting in our ears
creating a french paramour lovers noise
creating the prize at the bottom of the box
but still, the cereal had to be cleared away
consumed in a bed & breakfast ritual
and you can curl up in the corner afterwards
hide behind the comforter but
i know where you are, i don’t need contacts
to see your wings pinned against the wall
i don’t need chemistry to list your elements
this mattress isn’t here to break your fall

[KittenX]

That's so wonderful and sweet!! Man...I want romance.

and you can curl up in the corner afterwards
hide behind the comforter but
i know where you are, i don’t need contacts
to see your wings pinned against the wall
i don’t need chemistry to list your elements
this mattress isn’t here to break your fall
That made me sigh a BIG sigh! Loved it :)

[fulmah]

green or blue? I’m dying to know
what am I going to be looking at today
who am I going to be talking to
the little girl with pink tipped hair
that grew up Shy in a computer chair
who learned that men aren’t to be trusted
cos they heard the question and don’t care

and shh…
don’t say anything.
that wasn’t the telephone ringing;
that was every stray cat off the street
screaming for attention, for food, for help
looking for your arms to curl up into
so please pull the sheets over our shoulders
right now is so peaceful, let’s go to sleep

it’s not that simple, but
I made a bed from couch cushions
on a night long and far away
you say I should’ve took you then
and I should’ve, it’s that simple.
nobody was looking or listening
so just tilt in your head a little
close your eyes and kiss me;
I’ll read my poems tomorrow.

I still feel confused
my chest clenched up tight, I’m nervous
as your fingers trace hearts on my arm
it’s dark in here, I’m imagining things
I don’t know, guess I still don’t believe
that’s really you next to me
with a constellation between your shoulders
in the shadow of your tree

[fulmah]

i´m hustling witchcraft in five peice packs
on the street, downtown cafe types
the usual customers, seeking romance,
double dosing their cup of mocha
after chanting a good luck spell.
they walk off on a confidence high,
attraction lines prepared to hook
positive returns of any magnitude.

with alluring walk, ignoring lures
passed her direction, janine stops
at the park ave. sandwich shack,
scans the menu for french fries cos
a paper cup of cholesterol & carbs
would set up thick, settle and comfort
the good-bye in her pocket:
a letter for the lion-fish ex.

he waved his wand three days ago
and broke her down to ash,
all she owned was left fat and swollen
trying to swallow the thunderstorm.

lighting up a stick of passion shackles,
I walk up, push my product with:
remember tenth grade, third period french,
the fifth row cassanova on your shoulder
cheating off your paper? he wants you
to picture paris, a park bench on rue madeline,
romance an intoxicating spice in the air, at times
so thick it can be trapped & bound into incense.
I could count backwards from ten to one,
your eyes would get heavy, pink & purple
smoke would assault your libido as resistence
turns to the letters of my name, spelled out
in some dark-age magicians script.
those runes would rule the world,
crash the cosmos into my cauldron
of secret ingredients, the recipe:
java elyssia

[sylvanlightning]

and shh…
don’t say anything.

I’m nervous
as your fingers trace hearts on my arm
it’s dark in here, I’m imagining things
with a constellation between your shoulders
in the shadow of your tree


these were my favorite, recent, courtly sonnets. que bueno.

[KittenX]

and shh…
don’t say anything.
that wasn’t the telephone ringing;
that was every stray cat off the street
screaming for attention, for food, for help
looking for your arms to curl up into
so please pull the sheets over our shoulders
right now is so peaceful, let’s go to sleep

Wowzers. I applaud you here!

-not that simple- reads like a meloncholic lullaby. So peaceful, cozy and yet a little despondent. Is it an oldie or a newbie? Just curious. I really loved it, your words flow like a song. And reek of non sugar coated honesty and of who -you- really -are-. It's wonderful. :)

[fulmah]

"not that simple" is definitely an oldie, and a pretty personal one at that... glad it was enjoyed... thanks for stopping by kx and sylvan... :)

[fulmah]

One million miles oppose
provincial, hallucinated visuals
optically deceiving, causing
miscalculation and optimism
for the encountered moment.
(a)
Down-turned, nervous glances
waver between ceiling and floor
only occasionally attempting
to meet the opposite gaze.
We wonder, is significance attached?
Perhaps
(b)
moonlight catches silver fire
to the cobwebbed conversation, but
tongues stuck with cherubic shots,
throats locked, bewildered by
the power of human emotions,
that we have wings for once,
that merging feels so sanctified
a dream state is provided
for protection.

As the winter begins concentrating
cold miserable months, and snow,
keep that electric blanket close
and plugged in, and remember;
calculate your provisions, babe,
encounter optimistic opposition,
and document dreams for fortuity.

[fulmah]

I came upon a girl yesterday
& all I can say is fuck, and oh my,
for although there were melancholy,
wilting rings below her eyes
there was still a hint of radiance
& it wasn’t from consequence
of lamp, candle, or kitchen light
but spirit, and yes, I know
it’s an ambiguous word
but there it was
in every glance
& movement

& there I was, on the couch
it always seems the couch
delivers epiphany, but really,
there was a glimpse, a revelation;
this girl articulates fluent wit
& I’ll be damned, I know
bricks will never bust
perception from their blow
but the lesson was actualized;
I’ve met an incredible girl
familiar to conceptualized,
perfect harmonic perception.

[sylvanlightning]

once again, beautiful work :) wow, this whole page is charged and on fire. you are such a passionate poet!

[littleskinny]

a countdown came creeping across the apartment
as a viscous ticking clock with alarm set to toll
& pitching elbows on the coffee table, I watched
the hands with silver fingernails flip another card.
she howled, "fuck!" and flung her arms in the air
& right then I was thinking, something’s happening
& right then thunder assaulted the house & our ears
just as she won the game: it was godly proclamation
of fuck, thunder, a heave-to of heavy vibrations
that left windows rattling; that left me dumbfounded
and figuring that though the world’s not terminated
that even if the chance of another bolt is low
I think I’ll accept defeat & make no challenges
Excellent - great power. really effective use of language and rhythm!
This collection continues to offer wonderful insights into human relationships, and I enjoy the way you turn the everyday into something worth noticing - pancake girl... - but this opening is far and away my fave piece...

[fulmah]

Thanks for commenting everyone... believe me, they're greatly appreciated :D

[fulmah]

What if I should come, crouched
in predatory prowl, predicting
probable escape routes?
Animal intuition predicts:
warm welcoming smile.

The coffee table,
the kitchen counter,
the-- Hell, wherever

Just you join me, my love
right here, now, in testament
to affection’s vibrant dynamo
to desire’s plunging passion
to pleasure’s climatic coalition
and profess with me, yes!

We’ll untie
satin bound fantasies
We’ll caress
libido’s carnal mysteries
We’ll confess
all those lewd secrets,
because, after all

love’s littlest whisper
revs up sensuality’s perception
and in the morning
your skins slick canvas
will capture the sun.

[KittenX]

Va va voom! *winks at you*

This has a bit of a different style than your usual stuff, but that doesn't make a big of a difference because it's still just as unique and extremely visual/sensory as everything you write.
Delicious stuff. :sunglasse

[fulmah]

i do not care for the static build
before lightning singes the air,
the crack of trees splintering
into shattered trunks,
or counting seconds, waiting
for you to get your act together.


you’ve been unconstructive,
claimed the coffee went bad, and so
you broke the bathroom faucet,
slammed doors and stomped
and static is charging the air
making my hair rise, making me think
my studio apartment across town
is built of sun and calm pacific breezes.


a street-side cafe and table for two,
a public place to avoid a scene, go figure.
guess you’ve been talking to him again
bout where to go, how to handle, what to say
and well, you can pull the hair out of your eyes,
apologize, swear to change and still
you’d have to go and get a psych. degree
before I´d fall victim to mind control.
you just don’t know how much i regret


that weekend in the snow that started all this,
that case of beer, the stories still being told
about who kissed who and how and where
and you’d want details but I was right there,
heard everything, and basically told the truth
and still you wonder why you’re alone right now.


just keep staring at this checkered table cloth
and think it’s some cubist artists masterpiece
and maybe the red & white off-kilter squares
can hypnotize, illustrate a deeper perspective:
there’s not much left to say, now, is there?.

[fulmah]

We were once hypotheses
broadcast across plasma fields
synaptic transceivers detonated
in broad, hyperbolic skeletons.

we flexed the firmaments limits
we fought our foreign dimensions
we settled, finally, in the factual.

a stockpiled, unkempt kitchen sink
attested to alluring activities
as honeymoon’s interval required
closed curtains,
two candles, and
the alarm clocks light clicked
on level one: minimal luminosity.

there was no time to clean, so

toppled bottles in the corner
left caramelized clumps
as a mosaic in the carpet.
like we even noticed…

a stockpiled, unkempt kitchen sink
with busted borders, dirty cups and bowls
correlated current, romantic condition

failure was a predestined code
wired to a lack of adjustments.

reflection, after all, is fundamental
to evolution of permanence.

[fulmah]

a.
its thursday and im thinking thoughts
your friends here, but shes not
shes cute but structures sentences
to ricochet into every room
almost like shes talking so
the neighbors will hear
as if im not right here

shes telling stories about you
and what happened in california
with a corduroy punk in a pool
guess you got over me
wish i were over you

I admit, i liked
how your neck curved
how your body moved
how your heart hopped
but intermittently
youd drop your smile
curl up on the couch
arms tight around your knees
and couldnt calm down
or breath

and ill never get over
your petrified flashbacks
their erratic materialization

b.
so, your friend’s listening
but lacks information
on rules of rhetoric
the hidden language
behind communication

signals intimate
questionable intentions
when our eyes meet
her face, flushed
could cave the room in

i want to talk open
or be
whatever it is
do something
a little bit closer

[KittenX]

After that conversation we had about relationships. "static builds" is scary in how much it makes sense! truly stunning! And I can feel, see, the little sample of your life with this individual and its unsettling and troubling dilemmas. On the stylistic side...it was written just right. All the words are compacted to unfold your usual creative scenes plus they carry a somewhat hidden weight of hopelessness that I feel throughout...

[KittenX]

You make me envious when you write stuff like "the kitchen sink"

Remarkable stuff. A never ending, fruitful theme you've got in these poems...a blessing or a curse?

I'm in love with this part

a stockpiled, unkempt kitchen sink
attested to alluring activities
as honeymoon’s interval required
closed curtains,
two candles, and
the alarm clocks light clicked
on level one: minimal luminosity.

there was no time to clean, so

toppled bottles in the corner
left caramelized clumps
as a mosaic in the carpet.
like we even noticed…
....purrrfect.

[KittenX]

I have little to say about temptation just because I love it all....and I've said this soooo many times now about your poetry, it's tiring! :p

I am amazed at how dimensional, multi faceted your poems are, this one included. This was scrumptious. Great food for thought.

[fulmah]

thanks for stopping by kitten!

[fulmah]

It‘s a kinetic exhibition:
the cosmic ballerina rocks
and whirls her talisman,
captivating technokites
with mirrors of deception.


A tight tank top,
lipstick, a lollipop
and I too am lovesick
for the bad, little girl

at a booth, in the bar,
drinking beer and bullshitting
about her genetically altered body


grin; say “yeah, that’s great.
me plus you, baby, equals fate.”


but pumpkin merely preens
files, paints her nails, blows
ruby red lips in a wide O
causing car crashes
and bar fights and
apocalypse


chivalry is so unbecoming
today, all you can really get
is a bruised face, aching fists
when battling for a narcissist

[sylvanlightning]

Pardon me... just passing through. He carelessly leaves brash comments, to denote feeling that everything is limited when compared to the newness shinning beyond past descriptions.

[KittenX]

Sounds like a pretty good description of a night on the town to me!!

This made me laugh...
"but pumpkin merely preens
files, paints her nails, blows
ruby red lips in a wide O "

[littleskinny]

A tight tank top,
lipstick, a lollipop
and I too am lovesick
for the bad, little girl


grin; say “yeah, that’s great.
me plus you, baby, equals fate.”
That first part I quoted is sexy as all hell. This in all is a fantastc poem...love love love

[fulmah]

thanks for stopping by KX, Little S, and sylvan! your kind comments are appreciated muchly! :)

[fulmah]

waltz to an aching concerto
shivering portamento octaves
achieving weeping peace


my little bumble bee, haunted
by harmony, by breathlessness
by intoxicating compositions


don’t cry, there now, I know
it hurts your heart to hear
spirit depicted impeccably


collect this polyphony, glide
in cadence, on this faintly floor
embrace melodic rapture, with me

[sylvanlightning]

This is so beautiful, fulmah. So sensitive and elegant. I can cry if I want to, is all I will add. Yes, impeccable and full of rapture. When you return from your long hard day at work... perhaps a smile will greet you from all of us here that love you so :)

[fulmah]

thanks for commenting, sylvan! that you even came to these premises, much welcome :)

[fulmah]

>> ... <<

a stoned marrionette dance,
surely, documents this mellodrama
of police brigade blockades,
blacked out blackboard communiques
and engineered abduction of exchange.
all this cryptographic shit
hides behind fermented verse
but tell me, how's it feel, honey,
to handle omnipotent opinion
coz obviously, you know


nothing.
heh... humiliated yet? surprised?
the sarcastic polish probably
skewed perception.
pathetic....

perhaps>> if presented
in pretty poetic pantameter
epiphany could be relented
my dear poetic examiner
so equip diplomatic sociology
and re-analyze the above symbology.

[sylvanlightning]

this was articulate and very mental... felt the looping.

[fulmah]

Cleanliness is sign of capability
if you think about it
and, I propose
that behavior correlates parallel
to the mess you demonstrate and propel.
I’ve lived in filth, and felt
fight's resilient grip
and the fact is:
me and you, baby,
fail.

[littleskinny]

Cleanliness is sign of capability
if you think about it
and, I propose
that behavior correlates parallel
to the mess you demonstrate and propel.
I’ve lived in filth, and felt
fight's resilient grip
and the fact is:
me and you, baby,
fail.

Yup been there done that. !

[KittenX]

>> ... <<

a stoned marrionette dance,
surely, documents this mellodrama
of police brigade blockades,
blacked out blackboard communiques
and engineered abduction of exchange.
all this cryptographic shit
hides behind fermented verse
but tell me, how's it feel, honey,
to handle omnipotent opinion
coz obviously, you know


nothing.
heh... humiliated yet? surprised?
the sarcastic polish probably
skewed perception.
pathetic....

perhaps>> if presented
in pretty poetic pantameter
epiphany could be relented
my dear poetic examiner
so equip diplomatic sociology
and re-analyze the above symbology.
Hey -cryptographic shit-, how appropirate it must be in my poem in relation to your subject! Sounds like venting indeed.

[fulmah]

thanks for the replies guys! your perusal means much :)

[fulmah]

...from the "down into the well we go" collection....

I feel the pain
of not having eaten enough
the body won’t support the nutrients
the mind grows dumb and mystified
at the weight behind a feeling
the relevance of how and why
and what is the point of this pen
this ink and these sorry words
when is it going to start raining
to top off all this symbolism.

yesterday I drove home.
nothing special.
but I couldn’t listen to the radio
so there was only a silence
the sound of the engine
that hum from air conditioning
a brief piece of song
from some car passing by
the rustle of fabric
from my foot
moving from gas to break
from break to gas
holding down the clutch
shifting through the gears.

these erratic mental moods
a few hours of clarity
of confidence in the turn of events
will turn into apathy, heartache
it’s hard to get out of bed
to concentrate, to be productive
and then I’m in the car again
and I’ve somewhere to go
a coffee shop to talk about moving
a friends house to record some records

but for a few minutes there
I sat in the corner of the couch
and looked around the room
and she wasn’t there
and it was hard
I had to go outside
smoke a cigarette
watch all these headlights
pass by and
would you believe
I actually wanted
an orange flashing blinker
an application of breaks
her car pulling in, parking
and then I had to stand
put out the cigarette
and go inside.

[fulmah]

So, is alright
I light my cigarette?
Typically, you'd not consent, you'd rip my lungs with your watery revenge, tidal babe of bile, battling the unbridled horizon with bloody, virulent dreams. The finest residence is free of difficulty, right? Tell me, hows it feel now, following riptides torrential pull, that developed devil of drunk drama? Drama you perpetuate. These are the accurate thoughts that disturb and dig up demons, bring tortured intuition to life. And just when it was safe, your dread decimates continents, invades innocent encounters and so, fuck you if I complain. I object to your manipulation. Go back in time, remember what was said? I always was a prophet, and I thought I could cover your kilometers, no maps, no directions, but so sorry, I fucked up. You were right. You were always right.

[littleskinny]

"Riptides remembered" (great title) is the sort of passage, that if I found it in a novel, I'd go back and start the novel over, looking to ensure I hadn't missed any other gems like this. Great stuff!

[sylvanlightning]

Cleanliness is sign of capability
if you think about it
and, I propose
that behavior correlates parallel
to the mess you demonstrate and propel.
I’ve lived in filth, and felt
fight's resilient grip
and the fact is:
me and you, baby,
fail.


Simplify, simplify, simplify *one simplify should suffice*
attention scattered in clutter does not see the focused beauty of peace.
Well written. A+

[fulmah]

many thanks for the kind words littleS and sylvan!

[fulmah]

a crooked smile, a wicked
halo hovers about the eyes,
playful thoughts enter the mind,
disclosing intent to commit crime.
she was ticklish and mischief
infiltrated my fingertips;
they twitched, trembled
to kick-off and commence,
but she was forewarned,
sheltering responsive regions.
and she’d remain wary for a time,
a timid animal afraid to approach
any residue of male pheremones
still suggesting aggression.
but finally they’d fade,
she’d feel comfortable
and calm down.

not anymore, now
every signal is evaluated
for lingering implication.
a look that lasts too long
blooms blushed cheeks,
the pressure in an embrace
is measured out, calculated
and confuses to calamity.

I was just sitting
next to her, talking about
walking the dog at the lake
and I noticed that a tension
existed between our bodies,
how close our arms were together,
if that space were closed they’d touch
and I would never have imagined
distances could be so dramatic,
that if orchestrated to music,
the crescendo of organs
could make me uncomfortable.

[sylvanlightning]

well done, so tangible and sensitive
like describing the dance of two sides
of a magnet trying to merge.

[fulmah]

after twenty years
think i have it caught
in a tight formula
a mathematic fact
fixed to the vertex
of a triangle
cos there's always
another angle
another angel
in the passenger seat
flipping through my cds
hinting at her taste in music
but really only saying
shes a different face
looking at me so hard
the skin crawls.

i gotta intercept intention
i gotta reach out i gotta
grab her by the hair
by the belt
i gotta
get close
get what? what is it
i want? she puts her lips
on my ear says
it's here.

shes drinking
sex on the beach
thinking she got me
and i got too close
got tied into her clothes
and tossed into the backseat
and what am i doing here?

the whole things obtuse
odd looking no matter
how you look.
shes holding me
like the world doesnt exist
acrylic fingernails digging
scratching playfully
but it hurts so bad.
say her name and she
runs her finger up
my neck up my chin
knows she got me.

[littleskinny]

That first part is awesome, I could really connect with that. The rest was also good, but

"cos there's always
another angle
another angel
in the passenger seat
flipping through my cds
hinting at her taste in music
but really only saying
shes a different face
looking at me so hard
the skin crawls."

really stood out for me. I think my fella needs to read this one (then again it'd probably make him agonise over things, and run away, so best not!)

[KittenX]

the whole thing aww sounds like the boy is whipped! Awesome rhythm in that one as usual.

[Simulato]

after twenty years
think i have it caught
in a tight formula
a mathematic fact
fixed to the vertex
of a triangle
cos there's always
another angle
another angel
in the passenger seat
flipping through my cds
hinting at her taste in music
but really only saying
shes a different face
looking at me so hard
the skin crawls.
Like littleskinny said, this part was awesome, practically breathtaking. A very, very good poem.

[fulmah]

^^thanks for the kind comments everyone! makes me happy that one was well received!

a.
abstract meaning falling apart
and losing locks, it's getting clear,
condensing in your room
with you lost on the bed, lost
in the glow-in-the-dark stars
broadcast across the ceiling.
you shiver, hold your breath,
reflect the moment unimportant
as reality toggles gearless and
fatal errors hardwire the system.

lethargy is loose drive
driven into your timetable.
it’s a deep desire to keep
moments looping continually,
but creeping out of this practice
comes medusa's only daughter
who, into mirrors looking,
turns herself to stone, too afraid
to step out and interact.

b.
abstract meaning
piled into relationships
is lost beneath satin sheets,
in the dark, with pillows
no comfort in the confusion.
these lonely, passionless encounters
raise phantoms from the lightning rod
resting in your book of fears, so
you back behind mental barriers
set to contain oscillating terror.

a mug of hot chocolate,
a breath of fresh air,
the viridity of real starlight
script events into perspective:
hooked by shallow hints
promising more than one night,
a rogue had you reeled again.

[sylvanlightning]

abstract meaning
piled into relationships
is lost beneath satin sheets,
in the dark, with pillows
no comfort in the confusion.


no comfort indeed, just this blazing poetic passion.
thank you for this.

[littleskinny]

"but creeping out of this practice
comes medusa's only daughter
who, into mirrors looking,
turns herself to stone, too afraid
to step out and interact."

I like this - it's harsh but fair!

[fulmah]

thanks again, for the comments all, as well as all those who may have just peeped in...

[fulmah]

I’ve been a watercolored collection
soundtracked to fermented pleasures,
alternating focus in binary attention.

I’ve tied the cord around bedposts,
around wrists, watching tendons extend
to fervor’s ceiling and redlined rpm’s.

I’ll apply the mystery masked illusion
waltz this feather along those legs,
blended with slick, icy cold contrails.

Tonight, I venerate your sensual myths,
the concealed realm of clouds and rain
till now’s moment came, you’ve missed.

[KittenX]

Hmmm this reminded me of your yesterdays frisky mood.
I’ll apply the mystery masked illusion
waltz this feather along those legs,
blended with slick, icy cold contrails.

Tonight, I venerate your sensual myths,
the concealed realm of clouds and rain
till now’s moment came, you’ve missed.
Puuuurty, sensual and elegant. Monsieur Fulmah is up to his erotic antics eh. ;)

[sylvanlightning]

Beautiful and sensual. Erotic and playful images gracefully painted. A pleasure to find this, after an intense day at work. Great stuff, here, fulmah.

[fulmah]

old, but newly revised

east coast girl has angel wings on backwards
that push air the wrong direction, that has her
window shopping on the rich strip downtown,
with gucci gossamer sequin swans hissing,
spitting elite perspective concerning
neglected social decorum.

so she´s einstein operating within her dna,
has debated with confucius on philosophy
and if those diamonds are disconnected
from chromosomes to hang around her neck,
she just may eclipse inspection...

a sabbatical from books and self improvement
spent in downtown clubs on advertising
till the boy came along, hat on backwards,
with brilliant blue eyes that bought her
with cheap words over bourbon.
took a week to learn to feel a touch,
to contain melt-down and notice
how thin these walls were and
why he talked so loud at night…

aged three years that week, rearranged
her angel wings to sooth predatory rage
hot showers and soap can´t wash away.
if freud were here, she´d ask him
about ice cream with freezer burn,
a full supply of soda,
the trash full of beer cans
and the boy behind it and what gives
him rights to stories about her;
but then she realizes.

[KittenX]

Masterpiece! Simply brilliant....nothing more to say...

[littleskinny]

outstanding...good quality indeed!

[steffan]

longest poem i've actualy finished all day

[sylvanlightning]

window shopping on the rich strip downtown,
with gucci gossamer sequin swans hissing,
spitting elite perspective concerning
neglected social decorum.


stunning imagery flowing with character; touched with interactive change.
this was my favorite line... gucci gossamer sequin swans hissing, what an awesome description.

[fulmah]

****words washed away****

[fulmah]

She was upset, confused
intoxicated on I don’t remember
a beer of some type, I imagine,
so she stayed the night
I had extra blankets,
an empty couch, but she
wanted the empty space
on the bed next to me
and I wasn’t going to disagree,
my ankles were already tied
too far into wanting.

so there she was,
head on a pillow,
eyes opening, cued
to mirror my own peeks.
it felt like all of innocence
found a home right there,
it made me catch my breath
and push a lone strand of hair
out of her face, behind her ear
and what was it that she said?
I never can recall (....what am I going to do with you...)
but I went cold,
said we should take it slow
but then we started...
and…

[fulmah]

a strobe of lights, a flash,
and we were at this club,
two nervous fugitives
afraid the tiniest affection
would bring the police
kicking down the door,
shining 50 kilowatt lights,
come to carry us away.
but first touches came
to no alarms or surprises
and I played my records
and the club came alive
like never before.

[fulmah]

the telephone rang, it seemed
there was this keg just down the street
and turntables and good people, so we walked,
paid for our cups, I played some records
and I look back wondering why
people responded with such abandon…
I could feel the floor shake,
timbers creaking,
and I wasn’t the perfect dj,
but the way the records fell: miraculous.

I remember ending up drunk
on the couch, holding her hand
and this kid, come out of nowhere,
said seeing us like that
put a warmth in his heart
and I’m not given to prophesy
but it did seem other-worldly.

[fulmah]

some months later it snowed
and her car couldn’t climb the hill
so for four days we were there
with nothing but tv and conversation.
sleeping next to her, she liked to tuck
up her legs, take up space,
and the mattress sank on her side
so it felt like I was rolling downhill,
throwing my weight on top of her,
I don’t know how she tolerated it;
maybe that explains confiscated covers.

we’d wake up, make coffee
far too weak for her taste,
sit at the kitchen table,
her still in pajama pants
she’d wear well into the day.
mostly, we’d talk about
the fat cat in the back bedroom,
how it needed to not knock over plants
and come out and enjoy our company.

[fulmah]

I had proof of employment
so we got the room for half price,
and the same room 122 every time.
so we dropped, and imagine:
the stomach seems to shift a little,
a prickling creeps up your back,
and one deep breath; you’re there.
I’ve never felt so comfortable
so I got up to go get water
but she pushed me back down,
I fell on the bed and never,
I mean never had I felt
anything so euphoric, so
we were tangled from then on.
I made her cry but
it was pleasure overload,
we ended in breathless embrace
and didn’t sleep that night.

[fulmah]

her room had mystery;
desire on the wall
a falling figure,
paintings and pictures
with distinctive meaning.
I’ve been on her bed,
made her scream,
made her cry,
calmed her down,
held her close,
her head on my shoulder,
arm across my chest,
leg pulled up, across
and over mine;
and if I’ve learned
nothing else,
I think I now know
what contentment is.

[gdhmomchild]

This quick post thing can be a real blessing at moments,lol. Just been enjoying your thread and wanted to let you know I have. Great place to poke around. Reread Elasticized. Good stuff~! *goes back to poking around*
Mannn....enjoying the hell outta this thread once again.....*Resumes her poking around*

damn...jumping all around...the last one, part 6 was just wonderful

[skyfire]

i absolutely love your poetry...i have spent hours reading poem after poem of yours and you never cease to amaze me....you are so real and honest and i love your style, the way your poems flow and the imagry you create from the most simple word combinations....as long as you keep posting, i will keep reading...

[sylvanlightning]

part 4 was my favorite.
Loved the snow sequence and this part was priceless.

"sleeping next to her, she liked to tuck
up her legs, take up space,
and the mattress sank on her side
so it felt like I was rolling downhill,
throwing my weight on top of her,
I don’t know how she tolerated it;
maybe that explains confiscated covers."

Enjoyed the part about the cat alot... the flow, of the whole, was great.

[sylvanlightning]

her room had mystery;
desire on the wall
a falling figure,
paintings and pictures
with distinctive meaning.
I’ve been on her bed,
made her scream,
made her cry,
calmed her down,
held her close,
her head on my shoulder,
arm across my chest,
leg pulled up, across
and over mine;
and if I’ve learned
nothing else,
I think I now know
what contentment is.

yes, very beautiful... you really captured it here, fulmah.

[KittenX]

her room had mystery;
desire on the wall
a falling figure,
paintings and pictures
with distinctive meaning.
I’ve been on her bed,
made her scream,
made her cry,
calmed her down,
held her close,
her head on my shoulder,
arm across my chest,
leg pulled up, across
and over mine;
and if I’ve learned
nothing else,
I think I now know
what contentment is.


:( This one made me sad....

[sylvanlightning]

ocular assisted, tattle-tale communication
decodes emotional transmissions, routes them
out her iris to the notepad where i record
the paths of lions stalking her spikes
how her toes taste oxygen but still
feet don’t get dirty from dancing.



delightful, hope you don't mind me bringing up this thread, it is just so full.

[mariecstasy]

such a myriad of emotions encompassed in this entire thread...you feel deep and it shows.....such beauty within these pages.
thank you for sharing your talents and sights

[fulmah]

wow, didn't expect to see this one come up again! glad it got some visitors in it's old age! Hmm… now that I think about it, the poem I started this off with was "thoughts," basically 6 poems I did, 3 in mid-june one year and the last 3 the next june (same week, too!). I never posted all of em, and one's in my oldschool notebook, so hey...

[fulmah]

The stiletto ex called & the fight ensued,
everyone listening pointed & laughed
cos she thought she deserved an explanation
and I hung up, red-lined, boiling, trembling rage;
and I don't like to be an ass
but this bitch… she….
I wanted to cut her down
--no more fucking opinions
--I’ve told you our eyes won't meet
--we won't talk or anything ever again.

I guess it's funny when I'm angry
and shooting shells & all holy hell,
sulfur pits, brimstone, napalm & verbs
designed to slip in & enter self-impression,
an anti-compound of the RNA
inducing cellular deconstruction,
a meltdown, an error in human computation.
Tell me you're not made of math,
are a skeptic to if-then conclusions
that produce proteins for shiny hair
and I bet that caught your attention,
I bet your cold blood warmed in affinity
cos you’re all about your reflection,
stuck up on spotlights & cosmology.

[EternalHunter]

Wow man. I hope I never make you mad...Awesome images in there though.
And I just love that name!

Peace

[fulmah]

Wow man. I hope I never make you mad...Awesome images in there though.
And I just love that name!

Peace
bah, I exagerrate like crazy. makes for a better story... :) it was more like "i'm sorry but my girlfriend doesn't like you calling me all the time so I think it best if we don't talk anymore," then having to hang up when she wouldn't let me go... ;)

[KittenX]

It made me chuckle. The second chunk definitely got punch.

[sylvanlightning]

I love the way you express your thoughts. :)

[littleskinny]

her room had mystery;
desire on the wall
a falling figure,
paintings and pictures
with distinctive meaning.
I’ve been on her bed,
made her scream,
made her cry,
calmed her down,
held her close,
her head on my shoulder,
arm across my chest,
leg pulled up, across
and over mine;
and if I’ve learned
nothing else,
I think I now know
what contentment is.I hate quoting whole poems cos it's frankly a big ol' waste of space and timne, but I can't chose the best bit. This was simplicity perfected, so alive, so real, so now