Dear Gentle Sir,
None of my words here are original or new.
Nothing I say here is a surprise.
Everything I write here is simple:
notes on the scale of wanting you
and your moans as you read me, are my song.
Not-So-Secretly Yours,
Lola xo
ffl…
when time is spent…
Once, I met a man and I very nearly came the first time he entered me. I rode this man but I didn’t love him; I loved how his cock made me feel. He filled me beyond anything I’d ever known before.
A bird sits on my windowsill.
It fluffs its feathers and waits for others to arrive.
It doesn’t look up at the sun.
It sees me through my window and it simply serenades.
Many times, I made a man I (once) loved cum. I looked into his eyes as we filled one another; I looked because I saw him for who he was and still found joy. His lies filled me beyond anything I’d ever known before.
Sometimes we sleepwalk
Daylight fluffs its nighttime wings and whispers.
Someone traces secrets in the air that we cannot quite hear.
We blind ourselves – as one with the deaf and dumb.
I cry your name in deepest pleasure. I pull you close and feel impossibly new. The breath I once thought my own, rides the wind over water, through trees of cedar, under bark. I sit and see truth.
In life we are undone.
In waking-dreams we are made new.
With the right person, healing happens
But first, we must awaken.
traces of you…
happy new year…
This is what you shall do; Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.
– Walt Whitman –
temple storm…
storm-strewn & slick
raven tendrils
plaster temple walls
lusty incantations moan
pillage
compel
revolutionize
disciples to the cause
spread the velvet dawn
eke out the rites of spring
‘tween sheets sodden with seed
sing
sing
a song of songs
my lover
my sweet
sing to me a new song
storm-strewn & slick
sing
– by Lola Moi –