The Gap, Australia

#4327 Nov 14, 2012
"THE L B D."

She had hung it up from the mantelpiece in her bedroom, so when he entered the room there it was. It was suddenly lovely and he immediately imagined her body flowing into it, flowing from it. Standing close to the dress he brought his fingers to the fabric, touched gently, stroking then, as though it already held her form and substance.

Stepping past thoughts of her that so stirred his body he entered the pattern of the dress. It was a meadow in the north. July, when already the sun had bleached the profusion of grasses: water chestnut and papyrus sedge. He had stepped from the untidy veranda, past the pond, and down the rough track between the fields unmown, uncut, left fallow. As he entered the breaks of woodland between these swathes of grassland, deciduous leaves, dry and brittle from the summer's heat, were strewn on the path, and between the trees clumps of bramble bushes with berries of red and blue, black and purple.

There was no wind. The only sounds an underlay of crickets, his footfall, and the sharp mournful cries of geese on the now distant pond.

He saw her like an apparition standing motionless at the woodland’s boundary; her dress at one with all that surrounded her. When he came close and placed his hand on her shoulder he could smell the sweet dry earth mingling with her body's sweat, a hint of her sex as he placed his cheek against the shower of printed pollen amongst the leaves on her back.

Back in the late afternoon bedroom he heard her move about in the kitchen, and the spell broken, he turned away and went downstairs.

Several days later, as they prepared for bed, she slipped the dress on. As she stood in the lamplight smoothing it against her flanks, adjusting its fall across her breasts, he felt himself faint that such a thing of beauty could be a joy forever ...

and beyond.

The Gap, Australia

#4328 Nov 14, 2012
I've got me a shiney new Harley,
stretched out—front rolled right down—on the curb.

With a beautiful French girl waiting inside, legs long as sin, sitting against the wide dark cafe window

legs extended 'cross the seat....travelin' commando
hiding her eyes behind big round sunglasses, smoking oily moroccan cigarettes

—writing about my accent and the the way I talk.

there's a whole lotta crisp, cold money in the saddle bags, waitin' to be spent on the furs she wants;
old books for me and why not??

old books on art,
fuck, I can't even paint!

just sit around not talking—read about Brughel or somethin',
wishing my over-large, complaisant hands knew to render the face a fifth so well.

a fifth of whisky's is the closest I get,

I get drunk and further away,
out now on that devil of a hog, parked presently out by the shed where I go most nights to sit on musty chairs 'n scratch ink lazily

on pages nobody ever reads..
—but it feels fuckin
g o o d .

my frenchwoman would like to know what I think of old Proust...


The Gap, Australia

#4329 Nov 14, 2012
In the darkness with your honey colored skin

That was welted and warm

It surrounded me

I knew how I felt

Quietly I said a prayer under my breathe

Let this be real..... make me alive

Eyes that felt like home just where I belong

Connected to you at last

Your lips taste exquisite

I sketched you several times in my head

You empower me making me forget

I erase all that I know

This blood that runs through me

Leaving me half dead

I need to let the past be anew

Letting you lay so peacefully and still

I ache with wonder what would I do

Fighting my urgency to rush

My fingers slowly find your breasts

Then I travel to your place

Why are there tears are you in sorrow?

This well be so special you’ll feel good

Committed to the demon in my mind

I want to cut you and place you inside of mine

Don’t have to try and yell

Because nobody will listen

Your skin is delicate and free

I bet that nobody has ever tasted you

I want to float in your throat

Frustrated beyond the words I say

I tried to make you numb......

Perhaps you’re a little to resilient for me

The Gap, Australia

#4330 Nov 14, 2012



Placing the fist full of cash
on my bruised, wet swollen p ussy
I let it sit there to soak up the wet silk
between my alabaster white thighs

Laying back on the bed of disgust
I place a cigarette in my mouth
to wash away the taste of his cu m
still wet on my lips...
still dripping from my body

For twelve years I've come here
smiling on the outside
dying on the inside
with pieces of me spread over
the sheets of hells' desire

His short, fat, bald body lays next
to me...still with his short chubby c ock
reaching for dreams unfulfilled
with cu m that never stopped needing
to spurt in and out of my shell of a body

Today was my last day of whor eing
the last day I lay in a hotel room
for hours looking at shitty curtains
dumb ass pictures on the walls
and c um soaked spreads and sheets

Looking over and seeing him there
picturing his face as he used my body
as a cu m dumpster
I inhale deeply in the highest state of numb

Memories flood my mind of him feverishly
needing to fu ck and fu ck hard
panting, sweating, biting my nipples until
blood peaked, thrusting into me until
the skin started to swell and bruises formed

Fuc king me for what he never had
for him being fuc ked as a child
for the wife he hated to fu ck
for anger, pain and suffering of his
own secret sins of wanting to
fu ck his step-daughter.....

For the animalistic need
of wanting to know how
it would feel to fuc k himself

I was his confessional
my body used as his penance
to relieve his sins from festering
like a blister
I exploded !!

You see, today my last day
I pierced his heart with the same
knife he use to outline my breasts
the one he held to my neck to get off
the one used to cut out my soul

I'm laying here
enjoying his cigarette
The same one he used to smoke after
the fu ck........
the one he use to put out on me

Now, watching as his heart fights against
the impale of the knife
blood spurting all over the cheap
sheets and the open wallet with his
step-daughters picture...so he could
secretly fuc k her by fuc king me
gives me great satisfaction

I don't smoke but this tastes
so damn good today
the taste of his cu m fades from my mouth
when I placed my finger
into his blood and placed it
into my mouth....

His death tastes so good on my lips

Finishing the cigarette
I stand over his pathetic body
putting it out, inside the evil mouth
that will never again call me whor e
inside the mouth that will never
say his step-daughters name

Taking c um soaked cash
I place it over the picture
in his wallet
get dressed and look outside
over the city.....

Funny how today......this last day

I see a double rainbow.


The Gap, Australia

#4331 Nov 15, 2012
I've never been so fixated
on the the scent of another

As I have found myself with you,
my gorgeous lover

Your body is so soft,
inviting, and warm

Evoking sensual activities
I yearn to perform:

Licking you softly
pumping you hard
tongues intertwine
as your body gets scarred
my heart beats fast
while my breathing is sporadic
embracing you tightly
rarely ever so ecstatic
the sweat pours
along with moans of delight
suck me off
I'll put up no fight
switch to vigorous thrusts
entangled, sublime
fuc k me so good
it should be a crime
anything you do
I'm sure to enjoy
so never doubt yourself,
beautiful, never coy
my fingers are eager
set to explore
say the right words
and you'll be my whor e

Oh sweet baby, you will be missed

I'm grateful for those lips
that I've kissed

I lust over you to the extremes

And when you are gone,
you'll remain in my dreams <3

The Gap, Australia

#4332 Nov 15, 2012

I have never known passion
Until it was your hand
Rubbing between
My increasingly wet legs
I never wanted to take anyone
The way by body aches to take you
Or better yet,
Have you take me
You focus so much
on my pleasure
Never being greedy
You get off on my moans
And baby......
I just can't handle
the overwhelming Ecstasy
I find when your lips meet mine
Because all I can think about
Is my love for you
And how your the only person
I've truly made love with
And each moment
we're together
in our hot passion
I find myself
begging for you
Inside and Out
My Heart Loves You
My Soul Needs You
But My Body
It Wants You.

The Gap, Australia

#4333 Nov 15, 2012
Once or so will do

The word cuts short

But the feelings lie true

Like a shifting twig against the skin

You’ll remember

With a fresh, visual sense of thin

Thin doesn’t quite fit

Unless you scream yourself in

Or score the hollow pit

But I meant to say goodbye

Even though I seethe

An actual bye

The rage is uncanny

I fall apart from truth

I can’t rely inside it’s insanity

The Gap, Australia

#4334 Nov 15, 2012
I wake in a dream,
in a haze of the sea;
cascaded by waves,
every time my heart beats.

Every crest is a vessel,
of love or truth or cries,
every crash its own message,
spilling life behind my eyes.

A harp's melody weeps,
singing sweetly to my mind,
and I find myself asleep,
as its beauty intertwines.

I'm left with this vision,
as I visit the light,
and I pass into nothing,
or to something divine.

The Gap, Australia

#4335 Nov 15, 2012
Disconnected linguistics
leave broken fragility,
tongues speaking with such trite truth.

Thoughts turned to musing,
perception detecting that creeping chill
sliding as ivy from toes
to engrossed mind constricted,
comprehension continuously catching
the cold of ancient rites,
a reoccurrance of yesterdays',
in it such melodic disorder.

With sweet venom she sang my way,
understanding aural shortcomings
allots no egress off racing choruses
coordinated to keep pace on her tongue,
lacing time so delicately, a feat
of only passionate disdain.....

she left life with vicious viscosity
to buckling knees forcing haggard steps,
mind abstaining from physical obfuscation,
knowing contact lends focus to
the surrounding mists, draining away

these rains you called, in echoes
and cries once denied
and allowed to resound
within the dark halls of your eyes,
until tomorrow fell under
yesterday's reign
and you see the essence
of the escaping water,
logging time with tide marks
as it's encircling columns
we've yet deemed pedestals.

In your service
you are served by purpose,
as well as the audition of caution
refined to the request of presence
in those empty commons
you still hold.

And with such sweet venom
you call, leading through corridors,
the only ceiling marked
by the eyes of those predating sorrow,
yet unwilling to be its end,

or allow a Freudian slip
in which we'd reveal
a true identity,
yet allowing us to grasp
that it is only the light
which will release us
of that shadow cast overhead.

In this maze I am flanked
by hedges of stone,
a mixture of
one part water
to every habit
allowed to cement unyielding.

Reformative shifts scaling
to emerge a new horizon.
You echo inward, or up,
this song claiming either path
directs towards her.

Catching firefly notes
providing burning passion
in an unaccustomed embrace,
all requeim and maladroit
in flames we let engulf.

In the center,
colored neither by experience
nor glass,
our melting embrace had yet the time
to trade themselves,
though such idyll frivolity
after skirting two terrains of lucidity
to end at this reflective core,
our masks sufficed 'til parting's light
when falling apart
proved a simple concept,

conceding to the allure
of situational gravity,
given my path,
a constant upwards crawl,
less chosen,
providing more provisional tears
and finding conceding tears

For now though
we'll sit beneath this eldar tree,
material dissociation,
left to the wish
of a lover's kiss
taking hold in the leaves of fall,
releasing the sea of change.

And as waves pervade
she wraps her palm 'round mine,
and in the dust left between
barefoot impressions
and innocence's evidence
we leave a note addressed
to any of us to return.


The Gap, Australia

#4336 Nov 15, 2012
Tarred minus the feathers
burning layers of flesh
like carnivores of my fuc king soul
you feed on me

Blindfolded so to not see what has
been seen in clouded eyes for years
as acid tears score my lids from

Slide your black tongue in deep
attempt to choke my truth away
by gripping my throat
hands painted white on my sacred voice
bittersweet taste left behind
your internal bile gagging me

Bind these breasts in attempts to sear
my sexuality from me
trying to inflict your own judgment
a w hore binding a virgin
yet you...you still tie the first knot

Holding me down
pushing me to my knees
leaving me to beg for scraps
leaves me angry
leaves me feeling violated
feeling leaves me


A black hearted whor e
with a virgins smile

I'm ready to even the score...

The Gap, Australia

#4337 Nov 16, 2012
Shit man, how are you going to get out of
this one?
I guess you are going to have to tell the truth.
But some people do not want the truth
some cannot give the truth to certain loved ones,
others believe that the truth is what must be spoken in every word.

But its like walking back down the mouth of the cave,
to the prisoners still shackled, watching shadows, and trying to explain the sun and the trees.

I would have better luck
trying to

fu ck this wall

than trying to get you to
understand something
which seems so obvious
but you.

Maybe we are wrong,
maybe you are an enlightened one,
come to save our poor wretched souls.
But that seems highly unlikely dear,
for you are far too selfish,
and shallow,
and oblivious to reason and accountability.

A line has been crossed,
that which has been done cannot be undone.
But are you so fuc king arrogant
that you think you
are not worthy of forgiveness?

Do you think
your crime is
so bad you are beyond redemption?

You think you have leverage, but your fulcrum is weak and I am persistent and voracious.

The ruiner,
your precious
little nickname for me,
carries more significance
than the
of your

sweet honeycunt, darling.

You never should have had that post deleted that stupid fuc king but accurate posting.

I have known what a vile creature you are since the moment I laid eyes on it and I have carried that knowledge with me.

You forget how intuitive and analytical I am.

You forget how well I read your every glance and subtle body gesture. You forgot how much smarter I am than you.

Your inconsistencies make sense now,
now that I have accepted you as a liar.
Your patterns are predictable,
which makes your bullshit
so much
to tolerate.

My sweet little liar.

I love you the most, baby.

The Gap, Australia

#4338 Nov 16, 2012
There’s this hole in me
It’s infinite
I am infinity
And this bed is a web
And I am stuck in its sticky sheets
That are weaving in and out of the crevices of my body

And my ceiling fan is growing legs
And eight beady, focused eyes
That are hovering over me with malicious intent

And my floor is twenty stories below me
Filled with the echoes of lost dust bunnies
Who can’t save me from the beast

This hole is still gaping
And it’s hungry; ravenous
I am the beast
And I can’t save me from myself

The Gap, Australia

#4339 Nov 16, 2012
I kiss your lips and bite your neck,
you beg for more and with just a peck
I kiss your nose,
all scrunched and red.

I'll take you to my bed,
I'll show you a fun time,
with moans and squeals you beg for more.

I tell you baby there's more in store.
Spread your legs I rub so rough,
you say you want it well I say tough.

All wet and hot,
you grab my arm,
I side my fingers inside you now,
you scream wow,
and that's how I please and pleasure.
You say thats enough,
and I tell you "baby not so rough".

I climb on top and slip it in,
you grind your teeth and moan so loud.
We roll over I take it from here.....

We awake to a noise,
and you say I'm an amazing toy-boy,
I kiss your lips and hold you tight
and mention baby that you were tight.

I love you dear, but I have to go,
you cry and hug me
and say you'll always love me.

Lots of fun, but I knew it
was never going to last.......

The Gap, Australia

#4340 Nov 16, 2012
This strange egg you've incubated
has sprouted skinny chicken legs.

It follows you around clucking at
every throaty word you nasty-utter.

Pointing and pecking at your guilt
borne by some years ago sin which
all others hatch from and you keep feeding,
Remorseful grains of misdeed shell grit
to harden its anxious green shell.

With no law outside itself the taint faint
heartbeat of your reproof I hear beating
like fear's unglued false eyelashes

You soft swaddle it with empty gestures.
It gestates in every grimace of piety.

I watch it govern your vocation of drab
and undramatic mastery of feathered illusion.

I want to tear shreds in your black satin cape,
To avalanche your fears into frosty exile.
Burn them screaming in the blinding white of
anemic unconscious,
the blacking out.

Hang a trophy kill of your winged demon
taxidermied with glass eyes above my bed.

My compass needle has lost your polarity
there's just a crude representation of pain

I will plant this seed you gave me, in Lethe;
The River of Forgetfulness on its grey shore.

A watery landscape without vanishing point.
Where a white heron will weep tears of sorrow,
like a human to feed hope's tender shoots.


The Gap, Australia

#4341 Nov 16, 2012
Us, close together.
Feeling from inside.
Stay in bed -
Here - forever.
Our legs tied.
Lightly feel,
Heavily breathe.
Intense love,
ME inside you.
Sparks, chemistry,
Never rest.
Love, intimacy,
Complete me best.
Love me now,
Leave me never.
Show me how,
To make love forever.

The Gap, Australia

#4342 Nov 16, 2012

This is a poem to warn you of the licentiousness,
the lewdness, the lasciviousness
and downright wickedness of language,
especially, the evil consonants.

Consider, for example, the subtle sibilant 's', seemingly innocuous, but the consonant first heard in sex.

And take the letter 'l', standing up erect,
the stiff one in this lustful alphabet.

All boys know about the upright 'l',
as in blind, which they'll go if they play with it
too much, double 'l', well, they'll end up in hell.

The consonant 'b' stands for bum, of course,
everyone knows 'b' for bum, the bold, barefaced, brazen one, or, on all fours, raised up, the buttocks form an 'm', with an inverted 'v' between the legs.

And 'c'!'C' stands for - for, no, no. I can't.
Let's just say 'c' is curled up, crafty, by the coccyx, where it lurks, cramped and damp, hopefully curtailed.....c unty....cu m on !

And 'p'. Well,'p' is 'p', just as bad as 's''h' with a 't'.

And what about 'f'? Don't worry, I'll give that one the flick, dead quick.

'f' starts a word that's totally perverted.

If you think I'll use the 'f' and add the 'c''k',
you'll have to wait another day.

Then contemplate spreadeagled 'x', the final letter in the word of sex!

These consonants are wanton.

'W' has its legs up in the air.'w' is wild and wet.

Wicked, wicked.

'n' is bent over. Naughty, naughty!

And 'y', why,'y's the legs together and the pubic area.

Also, be wary of people who like the 'g' spot in there a lot, also those who roll their 'r's too much....and others who lash out with s and m.

'r' and 'g' and 's' and 'm' end up in orgasm!

I believe the higher incidence of sexual offence is due to the influence of consonants.

It's no coincidence. The evidence is that intercourse is social as well as sexual, of course,
and there's a preponderance of consonants in intercourse.

Such coitus should be interruptus before these consonants totally corrupt us.

Now, the only course for moral rectitude
against such a sinful attitude with the grossest moral turpitude is vigilance.

With discipline and diligence, we must become the moral militants in the fight against the sibilants, the awful incidence of decadence,
and the absence of innocence, that's the evil consequence of all the cunning consonants.

Otherwise incontinence with consonants
will be forever on our conscience!

Now. Think of every dirty word you can.
This sin will be absolved in heaven!

Yes, clitoris has five consonants, testicles have six and masturbation has seven!

Gynecological has eight, fresh spermatozoa ten and prosthetic devices eleven!

Repent! Repent! Redemption lies with you.
It's true! Think of it! If you eschew the consonants in all evil or ugly,
you'll be left with the purity of 'a','e','i''o''u'.

I have no idea where this poem came from!

It's a very silly poem, I know, but sometimes I like visualizing words, so, anyway, there it is....



The Gap, Australia

#4347 Nov 16, 2012
If premise, THEN conclusion!
You see a flaw in my reasoning?
Well, that would be an illusion.

My arguments are more than sound,
Before the logician extraordinaire,
My opponents all fall to the ground!

No one can beat me in logical discourse,
I pick their arguments apart one by one,
My polemics are an unstoppable force!

Where their theory stood is now a crater,
Exposed as frauds! But why do they laugh,
When I call myself a master debater?


The Gap, Australia

#4348 Nov 16, 2012
Tentative eyes lock on to my wavering movements,
Entrapping me in a stifling, unmovable cage,
Whose lock has been buried somewhere in my brain,
Though where I know not.

An upturned ear sits waiting in judgment
For an oddly intonated phrase
To come leaping from my uncharted lips,
Or perhaps for words machine-gunned
Into the unperturbed air,
But those ears will be denied the satisfaction.

The nose, whose position is considerably lower,
Searches my body for an untamed scent,
In anticipation of an unfathomable stench,
Which would, with a rapturous acidity,
Melt one's fragile nose hairs
And dance jovially in one's nostrils;
But the judge will get no verdict.

The tongue spews forth scathing fire
Between liberally locked lips;
Its verbal assault would pierce my ears' windows,
Made of a most delicate glass,
And direct the dagger of my mind
Against my soft and hollow heart;
But my heart will be shielded.

And the hands, the court's executioners--
What if they were to form into
A perfectly molded rock with a stinging bite?
Or worse, if that army of fingers
Did fasten a binding circle round my neck?
But those hands shall be chained.

The worst judge of all, the top magistrate,
Who commands the invasive operations of the court,
Is the mind,
For it stands idly, absorbing the information
And calculating an unknown estimation;
Thus, the truth lies within its safe,
Which, to my dismay, cannot be picked.

The Gap, Australia

#4349 Nov 16, 2012
Come one, come all

To the Topix masquerade ball

For a night of merriment

To be had by all

The ball poses a picturesque scene,

With porcelain masks and swaying dresses

And painted smiles with china doll eyes,

Laughter escaping their pearly white teeth

Over sips of flowing red wine.

All spectators dance harmoniously in unison,

Creating quite a spectacle to observe,

With wailing music that inflames the passions,

Against the backdrop of a stunning glass palace.

The glass serves faithfully as a mirror,

Reflecting the scene in its entirety,

And allowing the seeker to observe

Their unmatched kingly and queenly beauty,

Enhanced by the magnetism of the magnificent mask,

So that the world may stand aghast in awe.

Cologne and perfume coalesce in the air,

Avarice gleaming in starry eyes,

And bills drip from pockets and mouths,

Golden coins spinning on the ivory floor,

As stains of red wine appear on suits and dresses

Wholly composed of a luscious green fiber.

The night concludes with cheerful partings,

The music coming to its royal consummation,

And the wine having taken its seductive toll;

And so, the grand ball has succumbed to the morn,

While the masks are placed gently on nightstands.


“Just a lil' humor there.....”

Since: Sep 12

OR NOT .... <[;-)

#4350 Nov 17, 2012
Hello Adrian))))
Hope you are real well and Happy Holidays to You and Yours.

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