
Watching from the balcony of the hotel room
as the heavens are roused from the operating table
after a long coma induced by a junkie anaesthetist
the wild eyed planets are out of sync, unaligned
dying stars radiate their baleful influence
motionless waves frozen smooth as panes of glass
we intuitively understand what this stillness signifies
so let’s down this bottle, the last of the champagne
negligently toss the empties onto the street
step inside, close the curtains, turn off the lights
hastily fumble with underclothes and clasps
you’re needling kisses are more suggestive
of bite marks and deep wounding scratches
that infect immediately with a vivid fighting fever
hopefully there is time enough left to stake
out exclusive territories of mutual antagonism
time enough for you to taunt me with infidelities
for me to tease you with my wanton indifference
to tie each other up in exquisitely painful knots
bound together by our hatred occasioned by passion
that exhilarates to the point of total exhaustion
let the world go to its doom, why pretend to care
about some misty future when we have this moment
a moment of sleek skins pressing each other slickly
a moment of merging mouths breathing in fumes
why lose this moment stretching towards eternity
when before we were alone on separate islands
calling out to each other as we stumbled and fell
over roots hidden in the treacherous undergrowth
this moment when we have discovered each other
if you move over a little and lie back I will continue
we still have time enough for one last big fight
before we fuck again, die a little death before
the grand operatic finale scored by some bombast
and as I repose supine I see you as Venus descending
with a movement fluid yet infinitely heart breaking
flaring up with a sudden intensity that I cannot contain
even as I hold down your head and grab the rope
of your tangled unruly tresses flowing over my thighs
and at long last I let the universe and everything
dissolve in the flash of illuminating blinding white light.
Wow … this reminds me so much of a certain … person … time … a piece of last year. It’s like you read my journal and and transcribed it into the most perfect of words.
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Thank you very much. I can ensure you that it is purely a work of the imagination.
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Deliciously dark and quite decadent. You excel in free verse Mr. Cake, hopefully a new book is in the future. Tanning’s Voltage is intriguingly beautiful.
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Thank you Miss Heart, I like to switch it up now and then. Though I am frequently decadent. I love this work by Tanning, hopefully it conveys the colour of the poem.
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Perfectly.
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Good, I always worry that the image might not fit, and it is very important to me that it should.
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Your ability to coordinate works of art to your poetry is exceptional.
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Thank you. I always really wanted to be a painter. I have an eye but no talent.
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As a wonderful art critic I imagine there is artistic talent.
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Nope, can’t even draw a matchstick man… I have to make do with words.
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Powerful, evocative and erotic. A fine piece.
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Thank you Chris I will appreciate the praise. I am quite chuffed with this poem, but I am a terrible critic of my own work, which is strange as I am primarily a critic. But so it goes.
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If you’re anything like me it’s all in the process – I very rarely re-read what I have written, it’s more about hoping that there’s another piece that needs freeing.
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I also rarely re-read, it’s on to the next one, which is always going to be the masterpiece until I have finished it, then it’s the next one.
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A wry smile burst forth..!
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Thanks Chris I am glad you understand.
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What a hot current of amazing fantasies… I especially recognized the tease part (with wanton indifference) with kind of a smile.
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Thank you Sue. I wanted to cover all the bases.
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