Girls and Hogs

I like chicks on bikes,

Girlish ones, with pigtails

Flaring out of hard-headed

Helmets,

Sleek and slight

Curvy bodies

Startling,

A piston-pumping

Hog.

++++

Vibrating every inch

Of her

Body,

Delicate but deceivingly strong,

Taming the hardness,

The danger

Caressing just under

Her buttocks.

++++

She strokes the throttle

And lets it explode

Down the road.

++++

If sex be an addiction,

I gladly succumb to it

Only wishing to be a

Hog between some

Girlish-driving legs,

Her tempting hands

Squeezing and letting go,

Gripping and commanding

My trigger.

Counterfeits of Love

Words are lovers that never love;

Oblivious to the feelings they create;

For they may seem real and “tried and true”

Yet only in conveying a counterfeit

 In me and in you.

***

Words are lovers that words hold back,

The gatekeepers of freedom,

Enemy of passion,

Hater of too

Much Lust,

Desire, or

Any thought that is

Questionably undesired.

***

Words are a constricted construct

That conveys civil discourse

In spite of truth;

***

It’s no wonder why artists seek love

From an oft-void psychopathic troth,

Whose truth lies in the subjectivity

Of slathered-on lies

No matter how great the artist,

Artistic vision often dies

***

For meaning is in seeing

Because such love, fantasy,

Or whatever we achieve to see

Can never be

***

A syntax,

A code,

A signifier,

a handbook–

An ill-attempted imitation of me

And Thee,

Of destiny.  

If It was a Thing

Flower Fairy in the environment of butterflies

It’s funny if a unicorn was a thing.

A thing to touch

To feel;

 

It’s funny if a rainbow’s end

Was a treasure trove

To steal;

 

It’s funny if treasure was real;

Was there ever a pot of gold

For real?

 

It’s funny if people loved freely

As they do hate

For what is real;

 

I prefer rainbows, and fairy dust,

1-million-year old nymphs

Trapped in adolescence;

Where unicorns gleam,

Even in the midst of misty

Enchanted-ness;

 

Over, what is there to

Imaginations lost?

 

To being sane,

Or is it better to be static,

Manic, hypo- or hyper-manic?

 

It’s funny if imagination is a thing

To eliminate my pain

For real.