High Heels

High heels

At Cemetery

among tombs and strange people

A widow so sad

At least she had a moment

One tear to share for the dead

At  Restaurant

you could see two long legs

on her black high heels

as a good living widow must be

At house

alone, the sun going down

a widow not so sad

waiting for whispers and rides

as night falls

while the dawn comes!

and morning rises!

her curled hair wraps other’s face

and all is allowed to get in

into those chastes thighs and legs

the hot breath, the caresses … the kisses

And finally!

in a frenzy’s moment

she cast out His photo

breakable memories  on the floor

One more spasm!

And He, as a good dead man has to be

remained  dead

among tombs and strange people

Saint Love

Benedictum Est!Saint Love posed his hands on mine
and ripped out all my clothes
without special attention
my inner thighs , my hair
all wrapped in a scent of cigarette

and carelessness

touched by a saint kiss
my breast my hips
every night as a clock

I wanted to ask if that is forever
As all Saints say YES

when the time would stop
before fiery love consume on me

But Saint Love shut out my mouth
with saint hands
~tied me up~
and all started again

until my tears and supplications
~kneeling over him~
were just past tense

Between Shakespeare and Bukowisk!

arte-sedução-SEXO

 

 

 

you trace my back

 

with yours slender fingers

 

 until i kneel down 

 

 in solemn adoration

 

 

 

 

 

I am asking ~without words~

 

and cursing all my clothes

 

that you gently remove

 

 

 

you divide my body 

 

half nude ~half expectation~

 

and i fall soundlessly ~petal by petal~

 

loving in secrecy your perverse style

 

 

 

 

 

that is all i remember from your love

 

that you starts as Shakespeare

 

on my bed

 

 

and ends as  Bukowisk ~ slamming the door~

 

 

 

 

 

Call me….

there Lost!

calling me ….calling…..  insanely beautiful
the fog, the ocean, the love
Call ! Call me insanely beautiful!

the boat’s fighting with the foams
and foams dripping in your face
Call…  call  me at that moment~ insanely beauty~

the key opening something
the desire closed forever
and you call and calling me insanely Beautiful

 

Blamed and shamed

in  between…in the middle
dwell a hidden desire
working nervously~against my will~

i can feel..

thousands of fibers and nerves
waiting for something that i cant give

a relief…

Oh i  just need a little…. a little time to  forget
a  women apart from yourself
a  desire

in between… in the middle

telling me to lie there
a call so strong…i cant say no…

for  you or  for the  others ~i have to ask~

where do i linger for a while
no soul
for be blaming
no feelings
for be shamed

Starry_Night_Over_the_Rhonebut i have a soul and possibly  for be blamed….

but now i stop my words for a while
or forever
my pen i know …. was not all in vain…..
a beat ~ of fears ~  holds my left hand
dont try….she  said
but i cant hear anymore

i write…..

The three Marys

The three Marys

Macelamade a flowers bed
from macela that is the flower’s name

such perfume…..such calm…
coming from straw of once was a bud

~dust of the scent~

to rest the three and to Love too
they lay overcome by hope fatigue

ensuring
that always would be some Mary

~to care~
the macela Bed

Flowers and tiredness

But…once..just once time
one of them sleeps ~ in secret~

on that hill of softness
with a man with a manhood

the second cradles her dreams
at her porch

the third was still catching….in the fields
no knowing nothing

and lands dreams again gives a warm lap
we are in earth..
whispered the wind….shhhhhhhhh

Who deserve the love of that only man?

The Mary that plant, the one that is waiting or the one who makes love…..

Author Notes

Field Macela is a plant that heals and soothes… widely used in pillows and mattresses here on Brazil.