PKL Photopoetics

These years, these digits like digits of a rolling lock run through my fingers falling, breaking ground, clicking as they go.  So too do I shed skin to digits of unlived moments that could have made a difference on this trampoline I never seem to get to jump down to.

You wait down there and I’m held back  by medicine men and science. But you bow to your temple’s head temptress just the same, as if we just had met. 

Be my peace of mind

my tranquility and tranquilizer, my epic poem rider, a slider with a bad mac, macaroni and cheese, please if you please, baby

And you tease like there’s a lease to love Go on,  I’m watching you crawl towards me. There’s no limit to my love. 

On my lap of luxury I will bury thee. Sink into soft furs and let me pour sweet nectar on your tongue.

You bring me back to life I let sink in the reality of your big ass life. I’m so much smaller, irrelevant but I like it that way.

You are my past, present and future

all at once, abrakadabra, now, now, now!

I need my delivery of warm milk bottle, please

just like in London town

for breakfast

Je existe pour vouz plaisir

You are My substinence

my servant and knight

wanna see me dressed

in your milky white?

Tonight?

If you are really looking for

great contrast

wear black

and say you forgot to buy

the special detergent

to explain the stains on your clothes

I’m vanishing pixel by pixel from this world reborn on your lips every dawn new vibration new dimension of pure bliss and ecstasy.

I will give up every worldly thing but the magickal unicorn. Christals have turned into emeralds, rubies, amethists and saffires but I’m searching for the soft moss irises, the scintillating diamonds so rare and unique that I chase after every rainbow to find you there you are everywhere you are here, you are me, I’m you everything is energy in the between of two immortal souls I’ve always loved you

Toss the coin

into the wheel of fortune

choose your side wisely

to postpone armageddon

a port-mortem of lost souls

written on the walls cobolt blue.

You knock on my door to ask

if I time to talk about your ego

and hunger for control?

You drive on automatic

jesus trinkets on the hood

of your mirror soul

forgetting somebody paid in blood

for what you stole

and claimed as your own,

twisted the story a bit

to match the image

you want to portray

on the welcome sign

of your ego’s parade.

Who put jesus on a pedestole

of stolen words, lost folklore?

Only mary knows

what went on

when Men had control.

They got their bling on

claiming the copyright

on the manuscripts of splendor.

My vision blurs behind an old window pane sage fills the room and burns my fingertips. You are a wave in the ocean but I know how you land. It seems like everybody is dressed up for a funeral and I am very much alive I can’t eat unless it’s from your skin I can’t drink unless it’s from your cup I can’t breathe unless it’s the air from your lungs I’m gasping for air on dry land.

I’m floating in the green moss of the Caribbean sunrise. Your soul reflecting, the water reminiscent of your skin, rocking me back and forth warm, soft yet demanding. I’m drowning in you from all directions until my compass fails and I no longer know the difference between your warm waters and my skin your mossy green and my soul have been entwined since the beginning of time when the oceans were too afraid to call our name in advance of fate unfolding now the siren of the west whispers in your ear four words, but who’s counting in the endless ocean the confessions from here to beyond

I open my arms to the heavens above watch soft cotton float by taken by the wind painting my lullaby on your skies for our tomorrows.

Your green moss follows me everywhere on the back of the hummingbird palms swaying in the wind, like your hips slow dancing.

My tears have be swept by the sea to a faraway land you’ll hear them on your window pane dried by the wind and your fingertips If you only let me in, my summer night and first snow.

19.11.2019

Bird of paradise sings in her cage wings flapping in Elysian paradise ”sail to me set me free from immortality, let me know thee”

My seasons grew merciless seeing her footprints where mine should have been. Eternal winter heart, born of snow and piercing icicles.

All these wings that got stuck in the snow making snow angels in your heart that never melted

Like the zipper in my old favourite jacket you got stuck in midway. I can’t undress nor undo I guess I’m still your whore of Babylon.

I put all spells on backwards undid all rusty nails of the black cross, my favourite satan, the creme de la creme of my absinthe.

I’m your summer night the scent of gardenias you let wither away.

The strangest song of black birds long flown away, I still sing to you, stopping the traffic lights.

Sunkissed golden hair blowing in autumnal air. You never touched a single strand, things got curly as they do in neverneverland.

Is he still there by the window sill wondering what could have been, the page long withered away in the book of hits and misses?

Notre dame in flames, cette femme n’existe pas pour vous plaisir.

Burnt cross hangs from the ceiling piercing the dark night, the mute backdrop of the milky way.

Inferno ignites truths that cannot stand daylight. Knight vampires in sword fight, won’t make it out alive to kiss the death of sunlight.

Vitruvian masterpiece echoes eternity, byronic pyromaniac with an angel’s grin will crucify all fragile reveries. Sparks whip my flesh two years too late, two days too soon, so last century dead and gone.

The art of Sun Tzu or the warrior of light that paints skulls and bones in blood where angels once fell from the light?

Let them all burn I yearn to purify from the sensual agony. Burn them up, burn them up, burn them up, and set me free in my private abbey, on saint’s sheets.

The chosen few stand with 36 solitary candles to light the primordial night, to reign the universe sub rosa incognito two steps from paradise.

My passion, my pain I close my petals from you. My sorrow, my pain, you left me hanging upside down on a cross. Lance burst my heart into million scintillating sparks that never ignited the flame.