JUST SEX and POETRY
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5753 Jan 23, 2013
One night, you will land in Sydney.....and I will be waiting for you...

All the city lights will be tiny moons around the Harbour.

You won’t be able to see the Harbour Bridge, or the Opera House, but you will see how even from far away, the massive plane makes ripples in the water.

You will see the dim cabin & the people around you, the man with his goodnight book, the two children with their wide adventure eyes.

As you descend together, you will hit the button. The stewardess will come, and you will want to tell her something about the loneliness of vast bodies, the beauty of a lover's eyes, how much you love to land in this city at night.

When she is standing beside you, you’ll apologize for calling her. You will tell her it was an accident. But you won’t be able to ignore how her cleavage is a little off centered, as if one day she was born sideways, her arm, a white arc, raised quietly over her head.
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5754 Jan 23, 2013
Window writes cloud stems
black bloom chants stretching
thunders varicose on dreams.

Skies youngest flesh awakens
the hourglass child,
dawn sands her stamen kiss.

I swear the rain brought her lips
pressed them on the robins breast
it’s neck broke kissing my window.

The long cold hours embossed her
raindrops blemished her bed
death freckles comforted her.

The teeth of smashed windows
chewed up the moon
storm closed its insomniac eye.

Robins leave a bruised song
swept across the clearing
hung ghosts are bed-sheets.

She never leaves me.
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5755 Jan 23, 2013
Squatting on rocks
edging the river
we pass paper and pen
along the loose curved row
each adding a line
sinuous as the river.

“If you find this poem,
add a line and send it back.”

I roll it up and stick it
in the bottle,

toss it into the current.
An eddy brings it back.

I try again, again,
until the current catches it.

We wait, fishermen,
waiting for a nibble.

Like Buddha
under the boa tree
waiting for the answer
to float back.
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5756 Jan 23, 2013
In the desperation of hours,
shadow reclaim what is theirs,
the ominous clouds hunker down over the city
making ashen faces on the buildings,
tepidness languishes
in slumped shoulder hills,
vertical sunspots of orange
in the lake where blue sailboats rock
in restless waters.

There is a impulsive shifting of moments,
pink-yellow haze
in the lateness of the day.

If we shut ourselves in,
we will miss it. After so much effort
It will be painful to see
the anguish of the air, the prospect
of recovery, the quintessence of things.

What we discover in the end
is not possible in the beginning.
It is not found in nature,
transcending it, assembling more
than we can see: changing color, light,
variations of hues like arpeggios
on a piano in the gossamer light,

Almost lyrical, almost without boundaries
in the moments between moments.
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5757 Jan 23, 2013
We’re not so unique, there are words like this

spilling into letters in other countries, you know.

They write sorry and goodbye and don’t stop.

There are things happening everywhere

and everyone’s sorrow is as true as mine, their hearts

as red and full of pumping blood. My words spill

out of my head so full of the things you’ve said

and the ways there are to die or make it die.

These are the things I work with, like clay

or like stone, these are the bits of electricity

that knock my body against the fireplace on an opposite wall.

They spell out a hot blue bruise on my hand, a man’s voice,

pages and pages of broken bones and wet pavement.

I build with words and your words threw me like words

move through me and out and crash against the worst thing

in the world that could have happened and nothing changes.
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5758 Jan 23, 2013
You and I cry sometimes, when times get rough and ready, and these unsteady lines remind me why flying things with wings have danger signs.

And we laugh sometimes too, me and you, it’s true, because brewing tears takes work, gotta laugh it off, you jerk,(gender neutral) irking me with quirk after quirk, I wrote this one for you.

In lieu of together-time, I’ll use feathers, mimes, treasures, lines, and sign language (once I learn it) to tell you stories, the glories of writing are like fighting, for me,(because I’m lame), and so I will write-fight for you till I lose my pen behind my ear again, then I’ll stab my notebook (don’t look) until its pages are battered and I’ve gone mad-hattered crazy.

For you. This is me topping off your ink-drink (say when), refills are free, bills, well, we could avoid them for awhile if that would make you smile (say when), problems piling up? Don’t sigh...

My idea is that it’s all about redefining why problems can’t be assets.

I sit and set myself up for failure, and failing at that I might just work up the nerve to say (when, now?) I love you.
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5759 Jan 23, 2013
Since dawn we've all been passengers together,
cool intimates of sound and sight and scent
by chance enrolment on this expedition
across a huge and ill-mapped continent.

We've found at every halt the dialect strange,
the population different in physique,
while unremitting in its disposition
to misinterpret our attempts to speak.

But the engine has stood still all afternoon.
Picture me scribbling this communication
from the metropolis of Midlife-Crisis
in a refreshment room close to the station

before the long climb into the hills,
with their increasingly uncouth facilities,
inclement weather and indifferent service,
exacerbates our urban sensibilities.

No one is in a hurry to continue,
but soon the mutinous and the resigned
will take up their reserved accommodation
and see the lighted platform slide behind,

until their pale reflections in the windows
are all that's left to move the imagination
from rosary-clicks and mantras of great wheels
ticking off time towards its destination.
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5760 Jan 23, 2013
"LIFE IS GRIMM, BUT NOT LIKE FAIRYTALES."

You know it's a fairytale when the princess arouses
from a hundred years' coma as fresh as a daisy,
moist lips, taut breasts, and cherry nipples.

In real life each time you wake,
your tits are more like chewing gum,
your peachiness more pruney.
I shall take no more naps.

You know it's a fairytale when the princess succumbs to whines from a brute, and at her caress
he turns beautiful and pledges love.

In real life each time you offer your heart
he turns ugly and growls
'This is all your fault - you made me like this."
I shall embrace no more beasts.

You know it's a fairytale when the phoenix arises,
the firebird returns, the ice splinter melts,
and the dancer with red shoes - cuts off her feet?

In my world there will be no such compliance,
no pragmatic submission, no good conduct remission,
I shall paint my toes scarlet and dance like a harlot, and when I'm too old to spin straw to gold,
I shall start a sanctuary for dragons.
LOLz

Buffalo, NY

#5761 Jan 23, 2013
The view devine
Your curves so smooth
I ride you hard and fast
You take me where I need to go
I am content

(Sounds sexy don't it?! It's a poem about the road I drive every day!!)
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5762 Jan 23, 2013
You whisper into my ear
Sweet things that make me weak,
Then you look into my eyes
With your mysterious provocative gaze,
Causing you to touch my skin
To feel the burning of your flames,
Caressing me with a love that is real,
Then you kiss me…
As I feel your wet eager lips
Our hungry tongues indulging in their craving,
To feel the poison…
Of your blood boiling throughout your soul
Sending electrify emotions
Stimulating pure intoxication,
As your hands flows over me;
Touching every curve and every part of me…
It seems I move my legs apart automatically,
As you lift me on the mystical ride
While my body you know I will guide,
Just listen to our song
Making love all night long,
The flames of passion, desire and love
Is taking control over us,
You put your hands in my breast,
As I feel a sensation so exciting,
When you kiss my nipples with your eager lips
Every time you do that,
It gets more and more fulfilling
Let me feel those sensations,
As I feel you deep inside me
Feeling a rage so incredible to resist,
As all I want is to let go
Of all this love I have in store,
You got me twisting…
Soaking wet,
I feel you as you are pausing deep inside me
And then I feel you pull out and pull back in,
I moan from pure delight and ecstasy,
I get the shivers,
But…
Is from the fire lit inside my being
My body is slippery everywhere,
I scream…
Please, harder and harder,
I call out your name…
Crying out in anguished bliss
A slight sigh…
”A gasp for air”
This fire is so immense
So full of energy and heat,
Even water could not quench
This fire inside of me,
Cause your love…
Always will remain
Burning there endlessly,
Cause you make my erotic senses rise,
While you take me higher and higher
Than I have ever been
In the mystical ride of yours,
That I just can’t get enough
Because without you and your love,
There would not be a hot sexual taste in me.
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5763 Jan 23, 2013
And the Bringer of Light said…
I have forgotten my own name,
Demon, Misleader, driving me insane,
Taunting tainted fruit not for my tasting,
As in the juices of lust I’m basting.
Believing I’m climbing higher,
All along damning my heart with this fire,
Slowly binding to passions you’re inflicting,
Sensations forbidden, observed once with convicting.
Desire ruling this human form,
Swelling heat in a boiling storm,
Temperature rising, preparing incineration,
Poisonous delight, anticipating penetration.
Fitting we meet as I was upward going,
Your serpent’s tail now showing,
Masquerading, you greet with black deception,
Can I withstand its full erection?
Tortured not knowing, will I ever be the same,
Sanity again to reign?
Transmuted genes from years of disconnection,
Something’s missing in this game called Seduction.
Love,
You say for it you’re searching,
While drowning in selfish identity, lurking.
Deceiver, before the fall I saw you here,
Wallowing in this abyss of lies and fear.
I came once looking for your soul to save,
Now captured by tormented dreams, a slave,
Tangled in the embrace of shame,
Only myself to blame.
Am I defeated by my own longing to concede,
Slavery or freedom? Which will it be?
Only I can choose to see past the illusion of sin,
Breaking imaginary chains that hold me in.
Oh, how I fight your treacherous tongue,
Guarding my being, flickering songs unsung,
Plotting to be my Master,
Promising Heaven as I fall even faster,
Saying,“Hell would be to never know your touch.”
Can I change this legacy,
Or “is it just too much,” I’m asking?
Am I to stay here forever basking,
In the dark grasp of degeneracy?
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5764 Jan 23, 2013
Moist and pulsating
Breathing fast
My body arching
How long can I last?

You whisper secrets
Into my ear
My god
I need to hold you near

To feel your breath
Upon my skin
And feel your c ock
Slide right in

My body trembles
My legs twitch
Take me now
I’ll be your bitch

Touch me here
Lick me there
F uck me hard
Pull my hair

Pound my p ussy
Pin me to the bed
Spank my ass
Until I give you head

I’ll suck you for hours
Till you can take no more
Make you c um
Then ask for more

I will make you beg
Down on your knees
Give me puppy dog eyes
I make you say please

Your every wish
Is my command
I give myself
On your demand

Between us
There will be no master
We will lust
And just f uck faster
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5765 Jan 23, 2013
CAUGHT IN BETWEEN GLADNESS AND SADNESS

CAUGHT IN BETWEEN HOPE AND FEAR

CAUGHT IN BETWEEN NEAR AND FAR

CAUGHT IN BETWEEN WHEREEVER YOU ARE.

Level 6

Since: Apr 12

Location hidden

#5766 Jan 23, 2013
Genius poets here
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5767 Jan 23, 2013
She raises the smooth
brass kaleidoscope
and watches as coloured glass slivers
conspire together.
New worlds create themselves before her eyes.

Garnet spires flirt with sapphire
and turquoise.
Topaz and amethyst meet in harmony,
a selenic mystery.
A melody of stars singing a tune only she
can hear.

Eclectic patterns shiver and shimmer
then splinter,
sparking off at tangents of
tourmaline and jasper.
An image complete in itself.

I had a kaleidoscope once.
Sometimes
I still see oblique patterns.

Slowly she turns the wheel, finds
a jewelled tapestry
to her liking, and hands the kaleidoscope
to me.
For a time I see the world she sees
and it is good.
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5768 Jan 23, 2013
The house is silent
now she is gone.

Outside my window
a mountain of firelight
bleaches the sky.

In the wind
a cinnabar shimmer
as leaves fall.

Raining fire
the Liquidambar
heralds in the winter.

Soon a skeleton stands,
waiting.
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5769 Jan 23, 2013
Exposed by shell fire, the mosaic,
with colours vibrant
as a butterfly’s wings,
rises from the ashes of war
and twelve hundred years of earth.

Under the guidance of a padre
schooled in relics of the past
that intrude on the present,
the tile mosaic emerged slowly.

As the workers lifted the treasure out
the padre saw a chalice of green.
‘ Shall I not drink this cup?’
The words hum in his head
with new meaning.

Sacrifice is common here,
lives laid down like cards –
Open Misere.....
The padre has seen crosses enough
to last a lifetime,

At the east end of the mosaic
is an inscription in Greek.
Austere in black and white
it contrasts with the green and gold
of the Shellal Mosaic.

Below the inscription,
pale as yesterdays,
they find the bones of a saint.
The workers saw the mosaic
but the padre saw only the bones
and their stark reminder against the earth.

These days the Shellal Mosaic rests
in the Australian War Museum,
but the bones of the saint, where are they?
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5770 Jan 23, 2013
Tense as fisherman’s reel, irrigating dry furrows deep

into gnarled roots, scratched and acid etched/

anxieties and misconceptions disconnecting spirit

in tarnished dull silver spirals, silted canals, cracked

craniums, depleted uranium, a half-life half lived/

rigoured bodies ossifying in isolated vile madness/

pulping your liver in masticating teeth/ emasculating

yourself without the usual misogynistic assistance/

you crawl through an oedipal underworld, an Orpheus

spell bound by flickering television light/ a web of

black Lilith’s spells woven round your panicked head,



fragmenting

fracturing

splintering...



You are a dichotomy, an anomaly: an idiot

on a ship of fools; you levitate and fall; crashing

through the cotton candy fog of mindless mind.

Soft as pus, you sag, ragged and sunken:

a doll-form with big doll eyes.

Love me, love me, love me, you cry, semen

arcing in parabolic, diabolic flight; and you implode

in the ashes of night - a quantum step away

from the epicentre of your being.



Dissolving in the boiling cauldron of the crone moon,

all sense of self: you erase all memories,

like so many bar room brawls and midnight fucks;

slamming tequila in the lowest circle of hell, with

Dante by your elbow whispering red flashbulb light

into your retina...



A soft vulva hotly enfolds you.
Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5771 Jan 23, 2013
It’s Friday and they don’t send flowers anymore. There is no opening in this door:

just a punched hole of perspex, warm and smoky against my cheek. I see...



A void of chequered floor, an empty corridor, no-one allowed to visit anymore.



No more tripping of days in a blind haze of city streets, high on the secretions

of forbidden adrenal glands. No more soft-centred clapping of hands.

No more passes for the day. And all for my own good, they say.



Would that I were past caring: past wanting to share in the mad rambling circus

of life... would that I could resign to a life confined: would that I could endure,

but their pharmacology cannot affect a cure.



Yesterday, I ran helter-skelter, naked as a baby, all the way down the high street:

handing out fistfuls of fivers to any woman I saw with sad brown eyes:

any woman who looked like you.



I am burning my wings, my beautiful angel wings. The flames are carmine,

scarlet, vermilion and crimson: hot as painted canvas; raw and violent

as unreciprocated dreams.



There are shadows within the shadows. The ward is filled with shadows;

and I am kept awake thru’ the pre-dawn hours. The lithium, they say, is ineffectual.

I am unresolved: their science, a library of undifferentiated symbols.



I cannot sleep. The blood rubs rough against the thin walls of my arteries: a skein

of chemicals, devoid of volition, simmering in a gurgle of de-oxygenated agitation.



I smoke too many cigarettes. The nicotine clogs up, but does not dissolve,

the acid salts beneath this skin. I am too thin: these protruding bones,

a too prominent intimation of my mortality.



Autumn winds blow rusted leaves past the ward windows. Pensioner women wear

poppies and think about dead lovers. And every time I close my eyes I see your face.



There is too much time for remembrance: not enough television to confuse

the senses. I hear a sad trumpet. The queen lays down a wreathe

in the blue flickering light. Summer is a closed door.

It’s Friday... and they don’t send flowers anymore.



Homunculus Nebula

The Gap, Australia

#5772 Jan 23, 2013
The passing is of your own making my friend,
The unanswered letters
The lost and twice changed addresses,
The visits that time always managed to excuse,
The leftovers from a feast of memories scattered on a paper plate
While the guests that never came, stand on a faraway doorstep
Begging the door to open.

It’s hard to take the stitches from a tapestry and leave no shadow,
Harder still, on cloth so rotten, to use fresh thread.
Bleach and starch and bold brushed colour shall take me now,
No overlay but a single stroke,
Unbroken and easy
On the ticker tape of tomorrow’s yesterdays.

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