Do NOT read

This loathsome work of fiction is a dream of sorts...

Wednesday, 30 April 2014

Favourite poem repost : Wise

Wise as serpents, innocent as doves,
Past what we like, and all other loves,
Sunblest bread now, for your head,
Something familiar, blue /white /red,
The anchor we need, to whom we are,
In our fibre, cultured from our backyard,
The software hardwired to our minds,
Stores, appropriates all it finds,
Outward bounds and soft, sweet mounds,
Afternoons sleeping, soft, sweet sounds,
Untouched, unspoiled yet soon to be,
Fill breaths with honey, fill you with me,
Champagne from pink, silk seashells,
Brush lip smooth with senses swells,
Warm, at home, preserved alone,
Weighted, plated, new pleasure zone,
Until we're one, fused and sealed,
Breath and pulse and senses yield,
Make me yours forever more,
I'll know what I'm still living for.

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