My Algebra of Dreams

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26 notes

my whored flower

they
pick at
my goodness
like casual crows
magnifying the mystery
addressing the amber moon
seeking a strange illumination

about
our love

they are
my demons …

and their crimson hands
reach for the lusty side of you
while the blood of my flesh drips

silently
like tears and

i battle them each night
when we seek each other out
in the temperate garden of our love

oh how
the sardonic laughter
of these fiends
tempt you

the convulsions
the shrieks
the fiery
flesh … oh how they tempt you

and my
pristine virtues
turn you away -

must you always be the whored flower?

25 notes

our damned romance

am i so cruel to love you
while i carry demons
around my neck?

do you
see them?

they are
just like yours -

you wrote to me -
“nous sommes
des lamentable victimes et
nos imaginations sentent la mort”

you know these
tragic romantic notions are
painted with our condemned passion
as they trample upon the road to heaven

uh
heaven?

we are so far from that sanctuary
and we always relapse into this
melancholy love

and

interludes from the sun
does not brighten
our darkness

for our love
is the killing kind …
a confusing experiment:

sublime
decadent
mysterious -

like Baudelaire and Jeanne Duval

oh, i seek angels
but i attract beautiful monsters
and this
romantic agony
bleeds on these
pages that i write
in two
colours: rouge et noir

… the dark
bleeds into my blood
turning it black
as the midnight skies turn red.

and i love you
and i’m damned.

29 notes

when the night flew in

yesterday

the night flew in
and carried you

into my flesh
at the end of the mind
where you threw open the gates …

you were an extra-ordinary dream
with soft feet and twilight eyes
flowery and perfumed
like a romantic
garden

it made
the serpent go away

he felt the tenderness
and the bluet-eyed
douceur of your
immanence …

yesterday when
the night flew in
i loved
you
like never before -

the demons had left.
my sins were absolved,
and midnight flew into the stars

even the sunset
reappeared for a moment
when i kissed away your tragedy

it was midnight
and we were
breathing
the sun …

we were
that extra-ordinary
when the night flew in.

90 notes

be a slut

the choreography of the outpouring
of your soul is an act of a demon
in love with your beautiful myth

so they (moralists) tell you

but
the puppet-dance
of imperfect harlots
have nothing on you

be
a beautiful slut
ferment passion into
the soft murmurs of
your
blessed heart

be a slut
it’s just a name
they gave you … (judgments are deadly)

they don’t understand
your need
to be loved
to be wanted
to be beautiful …

be a slut
devour the darkness
devour the angry devilry
of yesterday’s back pages …

pirouette
around them
execute your
impeccable soul
into a slutty dance …

be a
slut … a spiritual slut …

then the flesh
will follow
humbly.

42 notes

nymphs

i see
scattered seashell lassies
and
ocean nymphs
beneath the crimson sun

i love their
playful seaside
aristocratic games
flirting with the sky

leaping
into sexy
impromptu dreams
servicing pedagogy
to
the architects
of spiritual brothels …

no need to read books
they jolt the edges
of my psyche

i see the mood
of their shadows … leaking waterfall poems

upon
my waltzing feet …

i love these shoreline nymphs

ancient species
resurrected
for my
eyes
to
see
a sailor’s burlesque cinema
of dancing mermaids
erupting into a
heatwave

or

a hot tropical storm.

Filed under mermaids on tumblr

51 notes

consequences

your lust begins
in the season of spring

when my
mornings

elope with
your wayward sky

spreading your glamorous wings

though
my darkened soul
still lingers under the

light
of the moon

yet
my flesh
begins to rise

to say “hello”

to your
swan-like beauty …

knowing that by autumn
there will be consequences.

40 notes

her intruding madness

she pulled her life upon her legs
and answered her god while
in the midst of passion
as the quantum
world buzzed
with quarks
dancing
into
her
soul …

revelations came to her
like an arrow shattering
arteries
along the way
to intimate illusions
of the power of love -

she’s a lucid lover
full of amorous alibis
dreaming of a polysexual circus
coming to town for her pleasures

and
i knew her
when her sighs
were self-induced
organic soap operas


of course …

her sexual prowess
and flattering finesse
were artistic emergencies
whispered in the sanctuaries
of fundamental eco-churches …

but she took me down … one day …

to the mound
of Venus
where
she murdered my soul
and anointed my flesh

with her lust
spitting her retroviral dew
with orchestrated passion
into the openings of my being …

she has been
femming me …

under the
watchful eye
of her demon-god
with flawless perfection …

she is
in the first cycle
of her madness

and i
feel it
intruding
into my being … slowly … ever so slowly.

38 notes

supernatural sinner

“come and sin” -

it was my command from
the left-handed demon-girl
who slithers upon the flesh

of
frail poets
with onyx eyes
hanging out
in dark
attics -

a
strategist of flattery
this demon floats over
the dream moon
that lingers
across
the
sky …

she
pimps wedding rings
at Sunday mass and stains
the ghettoes with porn poems
in the evening when the wine is
catalogued by the beautiful people

and
the unshaven features
of the cloudy sky
shifts its
shape
into
coffins and
catacombs
at her command -

and i’m a poet and
a supernatural sinner

i roam around her soul
like a coiling sinister viper
scheming, dreaming, throbbing

for
she bestirs
my furious
smirking fires

and her passion hurls me
into the intoxication of
her livid madness

and my soul
darkens
and
falls
again …

into her
heavenly eyes …

so beautiful
so deadly
so toxic.

48 notes

we were gods

perhaps
if this ghost
that haunts me
wore a mask i’d
recognize you again …

but i know the illicit sweat you left on me quite well

it falls from my skin
unto the poems
i write for you

it’s red
like your lips
scorching like fire
but thorny like a rose …

you perfected that stiletto dance
and became my pharmaceutical

fix

and the poisons
of your flesh
dug deep
into
me …

through
the instruments
of your undying

madness -

i studied infinity
but
you studied intimacy

oh
you are a wicked demon
since you left your girlhood

at the convent with all your pristine virtues …

now
your scent lingers
as a desperate ghost
during my nights of the avatar
sprinkling memories upon these poems …

i write
for your redemption
and for my salvation …

somehow
your ghosting self
brings me catharsis

but …

i miss
the dark
excavations
of our souls …

when we dipped into passion and truth
when we eviscerated the commodities
of our afflictions - and
we held
secrets
and we
were
gods.

i miss the unholy rites
of our descent into hell …

now …
poems of a ghost
are all that remains.