ON THE LIPS OF MY bEAST mythic in scope I the the fabulously fantasized I the Master of the deal of real... for real... I the pure player of the black jack the surreal reveler in the reveal of the stacked deck the cast of die... the EYE that shoots craps at the round table wheel of the animals. I the animate of the intimate whims in the anima of my erotika. a plot written serendipitously on the sphere-ritual planes but enacted on the stage of the hard knock life I chose to expose inside the rock. I the procure of it to the shock of those lesser men in pain... seeking in vain in pursuit of the moot the much coveted discovery of the philosophers stone. my poems like koans in the bubbling fountain of youth. and I above... who seem so ethereal yet below me... you know me only as mundane in the four corners of lonely... a dream weaver in the elope of we the extend of sensually pleasured where I... existentially... cope with the day to day living of my willed humanity I positioned just juxtaposed to my divinity. I a disturbingly refined balance between masculine and feminine to the perturb of them uncomprehending this mending of a line of blessings and obscenities the procure of... pure sensuality from the ink well for the thirsty. the quench of which transposed only with my deepest of sincerity. and it is poured first through the gourd of the breathe of nose and then eventually explored on the tongue... and the lips... of my Beast. Pantherion Prime from PRIME Scribes © 2014
Posted on: Sat, 15 Mar 2014 16:49:24 +0000
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