A Potpourri of Expressions in Word...

A Potpourri of Expressions in Words & Rhyme

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Brisbane, Australia

#1 Sep 26, 2012
Upon purple sea
silver moon slowly rises,
bathing the lovers
entwined in rapture kiss, white
oblivious to eyes:
owl, frog, sea turtles, raccoon,
last night under cherry tree

She folds white letter
origami boat sailing
towards eastern shores,

Kneeling in silent prayer
as arrow wings rip blue sky

Brisbane, Australia

#2 Sep 26, 2012
be still
let the moment stains your hand
as crushed grapes slowly sip the oak barrel
spring's first blush, soft and tender

on my cheeks, as I reach for you
listen to the breathing of white carnations
and cries of red breasted robins by window,
falter the wind, tarry the leaves

be still
before my pen dips into the inkwell
smearing the pages with ruby lines,
a baton raised, before the orchestra

plunges into the roaring sea,
headlong into eye of black storm,
each wave and thrust, unrepeated,

a moment be still.

Brisbane, Australia

#3 Sep 26, 2012
red poppy
pinned black on lapel,
mother's pride

silent guns
on field of poppies,
son's salute

bronze coffin
flag wrapped by father,
cloudy sky

field of white crosses,
red poppies grow row by row,
she sings bravely, free

red poppy,
soft on widow's lips,
beating heart.

Brisbane, Australia

#4 Sep 26, 2012
It was the thrills and screams
that lured her to join the fair grounds
of high wire acts, defying gravity

The applause thundering after hushed breaths,
swinging the line with nerves of steel
was her opium rush, filled with crushed ice

But today, her chest is a desert
moat of sand clings to trembling fingers
from nearly squishing the squirrel that unexpectedly ran
towards her car on the road for a massage appointment

She almost got a whiplash and saw firecrackers lighting up
the summer sky, falling from the balance beam spitting
grey from all the stress, but she remembered to

Keep head back, arms loose, belt tight, as the wheel
unexpectedly plummetted to ground in lightning flash

The image of blind boy, playing the violin, thoughts visible as
sun gazing so intensely, passes through her like an electric shock,

The plastic car seats rock and spin in dizzy bumpy ride,
numbed cold, she tries to stand upright again,

Her lover left last night,
stealing all love poems she labored,
her father's heart is feebly weak,
from eating all the smoked pork ribs

But she slaps on the clown's paint, flashes a smile
the show is starting, the paying crowd is clapping

You don't need a fortune teller
to tell you that time is a river,

And that life is not (a) fair.

Brisbane, Australia

#5 Sep 26, 2012
I leap straight into your arms
without looking down
as if I knew you would catch me:
caterpillar hands, dragonfly wings

I gaze at your lips as if I have kissed
them a thousand times in my head, slowly
my fingers travel to your waist and hips,
as if I knew them intimately, smoothly

The seas I have crossed are red
coral reefs still cling to my russet face
I even smelled death on an old man's tears
and green is my favorite color

My wings bring me here today
I don't pretend to understand you wholly
except that your words storm the shores of me,
sailing my white tidy boats to voyages unknown

Hold my face cresting on your chest,
it's warm as the summer grapes.....

Brisbane, Australia

#6 Sep 26, 2012
I first saw her at a Trick Or Treat party

At my own expense, she laughed loud and hardy

My demeanor was just too simple and plain

For her and her stupid entourage acclaim

It was a fantastic Halloween party

Everyone was dressed up and dancing hardy

I made the mistake of asking her to dance

She acted like I ask her for her under pants

Tall and lean, dressed like a beautiful black witch

But acted more like a tall Lean uppity bitch

Her body was lean and fine I must admit

And when she walked, her butt did a killer switch

She hex me, nobody I ask wanted to dance

I left the party with a gloomy like prance

My heart was heavy, my mind was very said

When I walked out the door, she acted so damn glad

Mind in a deep trance, I walked to my car door

My body flew in the air, I was no more

A drunken fool hit me and ended my shy life

At the end of the tunnel, was a bright light

People were talking near my lifeless body

I heard that Witch say, he wasn't nobody

As I walked through the tunnel, at the bright light

My mind said hold on, lets get something done right

And I want it done before the dawn new light

Before I leave this earth, she'll be in a fright

I'm going to take her soul, to a new height

Even if it takes, the rest of this new life

The rest of the night, her breath smelled like garlic

No one accepted, her sexual frolic

Tonight, I'll be the one licking that pink clit

Then fill her womb, with this ghostly long thick prick

She couldn't believe it, she was home alone

The mighty queen had fallen, off her high throne

There weren't going to be any loud manly groans

As her whip appeal, made him gravel and moan

Her body begged for a soothing hot shower

Still in disbelief, it had lost its powers

All the thoughts in her mind, had gone all sour

Her plan was to shower, at least an hour

She slowly unclothed, first to go was her dress

Unveiling a body worthy, of conquest

Next to come off, where her pink bra and panties

They were made of silk, and was very dainty

My ghostly body zoomed around the bathroom

The sudden cold air blast, made her nipples bloom

It was like looking at them, in vision zoom

When I lay my tongue on them, they will be doomed


Brisbane, Australia

#7 Sep 26, 2012
....She stepped into the steamy hot water fall

Soapsuds ran down her breast, time came to a crawl

Ample round breast, that squeezed real tight to her chest

They lay right next to each other, as they rest

Lovely sight, her body leaning on the wall

With her long luscious legs, making her real tall

A soft touch on her breast, from my ghostly hands

Made her body shiver, shutter, were she stands

As they slid downward, her body starts to shake

When I touched her sacred place, her body quaked

Then I stopped, she felt cold and very alone

A thought of me, brought out a regretful moan

She was playing the part, of a mean old witch

Not knowing, it would leave me dead in a ditch

She quickly dried and went straight to her warm bed

Hoping a long good night sleep, would clear her head

I watch her sleep, in her large bed all alone

It was now time, for her to make her atones

I removed her cover, and touched her soft breast

As her body went, into a quick deep rest

She moaned as her nipples climbed to the night sky

My ghostly tongue touched them, making her eyes cry

Her body bucked, from my tongue downward descends

It was time for her body, to make amends

As my tongue rested on her moist sacred place

Her heart beats loud, as it starts to quickly race

Up and down my tongue worked her small opening

She moaned in my tongue rhythm, as in singing

Her hips bucked, her tummy tucked, as she released

It was first of many, before my tongue ceased

Now it's time, to slide in my round ghostly beast

As I slid it in, she felt my size and heat

She scream so loud, it was heard way down the street

Her pink womb was pushed wide open, by my beast...

My hips thrust slow and hard, rocking her large bed

Her eyes wide open, as popping out her head

Arms extended, but my body wasn't even there

So her arms and legs flung, lifeless in the air

My strokes were long and hard, she begged for a rest

As I flipped her over, she starts to protest

With a firm grip, on her tight to the chest breast

In the doggie position, I stroked her nest

She moaned as passion filled her once lonely soul

In reality, true love, was her real goal

Up and down, in and out, I slid in her womb

The more I poured it on, the more she was doomed

Each long hard stroke, pushed her downward toward her knees

She cried out, make love to me, will you, oh p-l-e-a-s-e

Once on her stomach, I rode on her round butt

Soft with a lovers touch, make her love crust up

Loving soft long thrust, rained into her warm womb

The temperature was getting hot, in the room

Each soft stroke, her head moved upward while she moaned

It felt so good; I let out a ghostly groan

Her body sweated, as I made sweet love to her

The more we made love, the more she seemed a blur

My hands lay on her back, as I thrust deeper

Her body vibrates, as I rode much steeper

Now her body looks, more likes a silhouette

As my release came closer, I started to fret

Once I released, her skin was of a white coat

Who would of guessed, she was just a love-starved ghost

Brisbane, Australia

#8 Sep 26, 2012
Why is it sometimes we don't see the road
paved with bad intentions, empty of nodes
we stumble like drunk bitches in white heels
eager to show off how fast we can steal

Why is it sometimes we lose our course
even with a map, we seek mad discourse
taunting the sky and burning our bridges,
until we see death's eyes through the ridges

Why is it we need to leave and go far
to know who we are, so far from a star
falling to depths, like used cigarette stick
we robbed ourselves, hollowed soul, so tragic

To seek again the road we thought so small
but holds our peace,

We find, it was all.

Brisbane, Australia

#9 Sep 26, 2012
Adrift in the city, I picked up a fallen twig
and lifted its whisper to my pale lips
maybe it was the crying of the geese,
a cracked pine cone, or a bruised heart
Something from afar flutter its wings
echoes of tropical sea, beside the volcanic bed,
the pitter patter of rain on palm leaf,
soft as frangipani petals on bamboo mats
Awakening from deep winter night, the maple leaf
sang under my tongue, its sweet fragrance
wafting cheeks, now blushed with hot summer nights
Suddenly my breast clenched in memory of
my roots, shorelines stringed of coconut husks,
halved, its fleshy juice quenching my thirst,
and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent.

Brisbane, Australia

#10 Sep 26, 2012
I want so much to be the rain

that clings to your lashes,

lingering on your cheeks,

caressing soft lips

sliding down your face


I want so much to be the rain

that drenches your words

the ink in your pen

streaking the paper


I want so much to be the rain.

Brisbane, Australia

#11 Sep 26, 2012
There are words that

Bloom from your lips

Follows not the arc of the sun

But the curve of your hips

There are verses needing no sub-titles

Strung with passion stained fingers

They roll from the tongue

In heavy guttural sounds,

Primal echoes to your ears

You close your eyes

Imagining the stormy sea

The raindrops drenching your skin

You are swept in the tide

In fragments, in pieces

You donít put together

In one coherent stanza

But leave it to seed

Nourishing native heart

Brisbane, Australia

#12 Sep 26, 2012
There are some secrets we hide
when we go down the grey subway steps

the water was warm as the afternoon sun
touching our boat, into the underground river

squeezed into the train corner,
not a muscle twitching as we read
our morning papers, a coffee in hand

with our rain jackets, we rode into the mouth of the
river shrouded with bats and flashlight,
we took in all the sights and sound of the cave, all senses alive

as the train rolls and heaves
underneath the suits and heels
we hold our nostrils and our opinions
politely, our eyes peering the dusty floor

as the paddle boat inched along dark wall,
your hand found me, followed by your lips
warm as the volcanic and granite stones,
maps forgotten as we relished our exploration

the train halts on our station, we excuse
ourselves, and step into the steel pathway,
along with the rest of the crowd, we follow
shuffling our feet, bells ringing as doors close

it was an adventure of the sun and islands,
the passageways in the dark tunnels smelled
our primal emotions, unleashed like piercing
cries of the bats clinging on the ceiling cave

we work and smile, great weekend, thank you
all polite, nice and routine as the subway schedule

as the sun went down, we held on to each other
fiercely as lovers departing on opposite platforms

trying not to exhale the spice in our tongue
trying not to burst into tears at the sight of the sun

there are some secrets we hide
when we go down the grey subway steps
Adrian DeVine

Brisbane, Australia

#13 Sep 26, 2012
Another silent conversation,
No need to fall upon deaf ears,
No need to shout the words of hatred,
When your eyes say it all, my dear,
Eyes that bore right through me
Plant their angry seeds in my head,
To fester in my memory
Feeding thoughts of sweet revenge.

Sailing on a stormy sea,
Fighting hard against the tempest,
Waves of anger crash down on me
Form north, south, east and west,
I am surrounded by your scornful storm,
Besieged by your irate resentment,
Maybe I should pack and go
Before I'm too far gone for redemption.

I've watched the angel fall from grace
Within the well of drunken liquor,
I've seen your beauty disintegrate,
I've watched the change with fear and terror,
So scared of what you might do next,
I feel a prisoner to your demands,
I wish I'd never made the vow,
"Your wish is my command!"

It's hard to leave when I still feel love,
Held within an ancient memory
Of when we first met beneath the stars,
Of all the promises you made to me.
Those promises now lie broken
Among the shattered dreams,
The nightmare of your hostility,
No peace from your piercing screams.

A knife, a life, your puncture heart,
I try to hold back the flow of blood
As it seeps between my fingers.
But why should I feel remorse?
Why should I feel guilt or shame
When you've tormented me all these years?
I laugh a nervous cackle,
But still relief brings tears.

As I stand before my gallows,
I feel Death descend his blackened hood,
To drain the brightness of the sun,
So appropriate to my solemn mood.
The preacher whispers prayers of comfort,
But I am not afraid to die,
The only fear I cringe from
Is meeting you on the other side.
Adrian DeVine

Brisbane, Australia

#14 Sep 27, 2012
the moon drips through my window,
I wait:
spiders crawl and hatch out of my belly button.
hairy little beads with ballerina feet.
they swarm, spinning silk veils;
one hundred thousand spider thoughts
woven together until they wrap me in a cozy shroud
I breathe in:
the web presses against my lips,
it tastes dusty like old curtains.
the smell of burnt sugar, cloves and ginger
drift over my bed;
the smell of her body wash and perfume.
she's coming any minute now.
I breathe out and it begins:
thorn covered vines creep across the floor,
crackling like bonfire.
black roses bloom in the moonlight,
born dead and brittle.
the web on my face holds my eyes open,
frocing me to watch as she steps out of the shadows.
briars twinning up her legs and her body,
reaching up to her.
one minute she's bythe door,
the next she's standing over me.
the temperture of the room
has dropped twenty degrees
her voice in me head;
I can't make a sound
spiders crawl on my face
and leap across her arms,
they fly back and forth
knitting us together
"come with me," she say. "please"
the web clicks into place.
staring at each other as the moon
slithers across the sky and the stars go to sleep
I wake up:
there are no spiders in sight,
no rose petals on the floor,
she's in the morgue,
belly slit and draining,
like a fresh caught fish.
it never happened
Adrian DeVine

Brisbane, Australia

#15 Sep 27, 2012
Dear Poetry,
I sacrificed myself for the art.
I came and then stayed.
Unwelcome, I give up myself to you.
For you look at me with paper thin eyes
Hoping to get more out of me.
A rhyme, a degree, to show.
I pushed aside my lengthy paragraphs
For short squares that are forced to impress.
Leaving you stunned by its immaculate taste.

Words alone arenít enough.
All I need is a pen of somewhere.
And a surface that can stand
This blood shot, this gunshot of literature.
You tell me to stay traditional
Like a man saluting to a golden statue
Which he must obey because he has no will
And no power to fight against that force
That should be as a free sky but is a solid ground instead.
I will write whatever. You will judge whenever.
But whatever I give will be pure.
For this is what poetry is made of.

Level 6

Since: Jan 12

Location hidden

#16 Sep 27, 2012
Upon purple sea
silver moon slowly rises,
bathing the lovers
entwined in rapture kiss, white
oblivious to eyes:
owl, frog, sea turtles, raccoon,
last night under cherry tree
She folds white letter
origami boat sailing
towards eastern shores,
Kneeling in silent prayer
as arrow wings rip blue sky
I like this one.
Adrian DeVine

Brisbane, Australia

#17 Sep 27, 2012
Sleep when exhaustion
spreads its arms to strangle you,
rage at the constant sway of worlds,
of words, letters sharpened, whetted
to a deadly edge, they will not hurt you.

Grief rises in the empty well,
and you piling stones,
making molehill mountains.
Pull bricks from the walls,
the gaping absence becomes footholds.
Climb stones, expose your feet,
cling with long nails of your toes,
they are not stigmata,
just another cross you have to bear.
Use it to hold your weight,
it's all it's meant to do.

Mass opiate, they smoke it
on the way to church on Sunday,
Monday, any day will do.
A speaker tells you how to live
while hidden 'neath the pulpit,
a dirty soapbox carries him away.
Dream as the bells beckon,
your vision has more truth
than any laws made up by hypocrites.

Pundits smile in squares, rectangles,
getting larger with technology,
smaller with implants, you forget
and it sounds like your conscious.
There is no arbitrator, Jane was murdered
the day they found her making sense,
now the Cochlear whispering in your ear
says "KILL, KILL", you will return a hero,
they'll throw pills from the balconies,
leaving marks upon your skin
looking strangely like rough groups of sixes.

Sixes are lucky numbers, the double
trinity of hallucinogens you would not take.
When parades are over the chosen illegals
will sweep them up, into gutters
where the rats will drink the water.
But you, you take your liquids from a virgin bottle,
knowing always that the drugs don't work.
Adrian DeVine

Brisbane, Australia

#18 Sep 27, 2012
Mindful, yet timeless
The ocean and stars
Wash my sheets clean
but for reasons fallen small.
they radiate pale moonlight.
The shape of them still tells
of a sensual moment evident,
but with fading memory found.
I stand, wondering:
This imprint, this fossil -
Does memory derive relevance,
Or are my sheets simply in need of tucking?
Adrian DeVine

Brisbane, Australia

#19 Sep 27, 2012
QuiteCrazy wrote:
<quoted text>
I like this one.
Thank you.

poets are
strippers of
the heart
naked on the page
the stage
the line
the beat

and the spaces
in between.

Adrian DeVine

Brisbane, Australia

#20 Sep 27, 2012

I waited for a week for the pens to arrive
anticipating the fantastic poems I would write
because, really, the best poems I ever wrote
were done with black gel pens, seven years ago.

Poems festered in my head, unborn, but waiting
for those pens to arrive. It would be a literary
hurricane at my desk when those pens showed up
all the poems in me, trying to get out.

Another week passed and the pens still hadnít arrived hundreds of poems pushed against me, single words,
whole phrases, I could picture myself writing
in the back yard under the tree
I could picture it perfectly, but not without the pens.

When week three had passed, I started to panic
could feel poems from the weeks before fading, replaced by inferior ones
I called up the vendor, who couldnít understand my panic
said heíd send out a new shipment......

itíd be here in a week.

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