To the Heart of Delight...

I want your shoulder right tonight

To have one suppressed laugh on it

Since I know there is no other place in the world

I could give it one laugh-one big laugh

When the whole world comes to an end.

 

July 6, 2006 

 

I need to focus on the red, on the sweet

when your coral-colored lips are on mine

when you speak, laugh, dance, or swish

along the living room with your new top on

and I am working on a new poem to read my colleagues

“it’s time for lunch honey”, you call me up 

dish out for me a full plate of my favorite food

(because you know I am still a big eater)

I make jokes on your new top which is in red also

and you laugh, enjoy, and flirt with me

you know I feel still hot for you even after years

you put away the table though yet I am not finished

with a wide, red grin on and an air of mischievousness  

you say it’s not good to prolong your dish

and I standing up am thinking

of the curves and delicateness of your body

of your horny smell, moves, and appearance.

And the fact that the poem I am writing

is only rubbish since it’s a politically motivated one.   

 

 

honey, they say, is a bad thing

when a car-bomber kills crowds of bees

with his simple, bizarre sense of guilt

thrusting the germ-laden, almost brownish teeth

jeers now at millions of those homeless bees

wallowing in their ancient sentiments

thinking Assyrians were not barbarous at all

but the bomber is not callous enough

to let the bees go un-entertained

he likes and he should have them all

play dead or homeless joyfully.        

 

 

June 11, 2006