Are you curious enough to seek?
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Pulsar Part I
Her pulsar explosions create poetic spires
Pulses burst from light beams buckling her words
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Her Milky Way fingers caress starlet themes
Sultry metaphors dance with cobalt dreams
Melting ice cream girls all over dirty boys
Sprinkling funky shivers on top of surly toys
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Her mantra of heat sunbathes deep in your soul
Changing ion silkworms into cosmic wormholes
She hums along with mercury’s hot gilded cries
As the heat from her words command you to rise
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Her Textile tongue will delight your decadence
Licking the shape into Venus’s sexy silhouette
Vermillion satin glove sachets above water songs
As those familiar aromas slide off nocturnal palms
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Nova filled ink fingers, teach wet syllables to drip
Red seas only part as words slip from her lips
Her thirst for anticipation snap crackling whips
Explosion of wonder, thunder under tortured hips
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Searing then shaking gives a diamond studded surprise
While unleashing the rest with those precious jewel eyes
Creating a necklace from elastic spasms and erected wisdom
Staining rapture on a hanging painting of worn out collisions
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She vamps in a camp blackened by simmering constellations
In cadence devils swarm into her stimulated angel cages
Burning wings of sweet sauce dipped into sensual sensation
When flying near her campfire words burn up in excitation
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She’s a space high diver off the pillars of life
Atlas quit holding earth to make her his wife
Star boarding on comets soft powder tails
Riding the backside of Uranus snow whales
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She’s a pulsar, supernova, dressed in halo hair red
Hiding in a sunrise she burns up the living dead
Blackbody radiator skinned within Cinderella’s snow
Photoelectric flagpoles polarized and charged to go
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“Blue shifting men readying for the next event horizon show?”
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Red Pulsar Part II
She was so uniquely dysfunctional with her wicked behind
She stained me with car music from 1949
The unwanted in the back seat burning fun smelling grass
Quid, Quid and I were showing off our pretty ass
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Red lined emerald green, skin colored white ice cream
Words wrung out wet and clean, bubbling from her seams
Her torn up weary worries, are now flying on her lover wings
Fame and wishes claimed so soon, mining the poet’s dream
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Standing in her word world-she may sway
But into full blown glory-she’ll slay the day
Young fear can no longer send her presents
Fame has claimed her as its latest legend
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I will watch from that distant shooting star
As your elevated poems takes you just as far
Finding greatness in youth can be too soon
But for those hungry of loves rhythmic tune
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On top of the sun you must now rein
Two blue moons you’ll never be the same
Staining glass from earths falling down rain
Puddles of words will drink in your name
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Songbirds are not taught but born to fly
Better to write from the clouds in the sky
Raining down words as they kiss your birth
Find all that you’re worth my little butterfly.
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Are you strong enough to be weak?
