A view from high above (Oh Canada)

Or drop the word school

Call me old school

Arise

Raise me the head of my lover

Twice her lips bares the tip
As her body kneels on joyful pleas
Eyes aligned with supplication

Give to me all that is need

Their space a gift where each stands tall
A pedestal
None shall fall

Line my intentions with consequences

Every vacuum seeks to fill
A chariot
Where once felt hills

It takes words to create a story.

fluttering-slips:

Henna

These days I walk through crowds
naked, letting strangers read the swirling
hieroglyphs of the henna lines
you drew on me while straddling me,
making the loops of your signature
tickle me—naming me yours—
I have not washed for days.
I let strangers read the legend
of our compact and I grow
to love you the more. Woman,
I worry when clouds gather these days
that the lines will be washed away,
and when it rains I dodge and dart
for shelter in the dark holes of the city.a

Kwame Dawes

(via so-realism)

Awiakta Returns

mermaidsbite:

my compassion flows unfashionably
into private nooks of my pocketbook
as i sob the throbbing love from my
chest of tender secret shames,

namely how the descent of decency
creates jesters of gestures and
the damned of damsels in harmony
with stark, star-crossed street pavers

we are the feet of arias sweeping
steps before stormy moments in
idealized eyes of soul-gazing against
glazed stares from perennial deckchairs

© Christiane Lopez 2014

(via feverishkite)

In the present

With a simple exhale
these eyes relaxed
Maples turned to marigolds
blood coursed

Future did not wish for the past
relief to be

In your presence

“Praise God they say at Gideon
National Bible College,
at the end of every statement,
a mantra that’s wormed
inside their bodies and minds,
becoming who they are,
how they see the universe,
know life, give thanks—
like when I hear your name
I praise orgasm.”

—   Tito Titus, O(h)! (via titotitus)

(via so-realism)

“and when your spine burns black
in the middle of the night,
tell me, little ember,
whose touch will tame it?
and whose will set you alight?”

—   

head(board)s or (coat)tails

liz (10.7.2014)

(via so-realism)

Just takes one

You’re ok
I want you here
An extended hand
Big warm smile
Giggles and hugs
Bite of the ear
Palms on the sides of your very own cheeks

A pat on the back
Thank you that’s clear
A poem that has you feel their beautiful heart is near

Eyes which are listening
A hand laid upon your own
A twirl
An outfit unfurled for your eyes alone

Hair stroked in slumber
Kind notes found on Tumblr
Your time and attention
A free lap dance just cause

Love yous are remembered.

ghostsista:

perhaps no one ever will again

love, can you hear me?
we’re crows calling out to crows
and still winter falls …

(Source: ghostsista.com)

The fool on the hill

My earliest longing was for the gift of wisdom
So I watched

Those drenched by the depth of puddles
Those bleeding while tendrils released their giving hearts

I wanted air
So as never to be touched by earthly experience

And so it passed

Wisdom was read from other paths
And breathing never taken without wheezing

The earth holds my head under each cloud
A human life being had

I can smile now at wisdom’s flight
Missteps on broken flooded roads

I have lived
And love

Takes a fool to reach for love
Leave me my foolishness