poetry of the sullen dance

the words

came seldom,

as of late,

and we seemed to drift 

apart.

seeing each other 

became a chore

and all we did 

was bicker 

about things

that didn't amount

to 

a hill of legumes.

the sparkle faded...

you said 

the world

had made you tired

and rest was the key.

i decided

it was all an elaborate

scam

to pull out

 those emotions

locked deep beneath

the caverns

of caring

in my heart.

that powerful smile

turned silent...

you talked 

children,

past loves,

making amends 

for the wrongs 

doled out.

you saw her...

a vision of the one 

who sacrificed 

so that life

would be complete.

it was time

to fly.

so as the soil

fell from my hand

and words 

were suddenly found,

it was to late.

now 

the arguments,

disagreements

and

lazy words

stare at me

like hanging darts.

because 

my stubborn mind

refuses to accept

i'm alone.

rendezvous

the beat 

of the bass

bumps.

baby, 

it's cold outside

but warm inside

and fingers slide

along curves

which sing 

the desire of the night.

wine and candlelight

whisper

directions

that direct tongues,

lips

into dizzy trips

that end up 

tasting hips

and emotions

flip.

 thoughts

of satin sheets

lie in wait

as hands roam 

like drunken sailors

inhaling

every sensuous moment.

breathing

at a frenzied pace,

predestined visions

of pearl and lace,

while kisses 

leave trails of heat

on sweaty soft skin.

a devious moan

creates

 the warmth

that we both crave.

vanilla wetness

arrives...

carousel motion

carries us 

towards an explosion

that mounts,

from your mounting,

fueled 

by impulsive giggles

and fetish nibbles

that drown our sensibilities.

we ride the wave

of cream filling

and ease our way

down from

heaven.

his deja vu wrinkle defined

she 

waltzed 

into my life 

bearing the intensity

contained

in a new born zephyr...

yet her smile 

bore a tale 

which we both knew 

was full

of deception.

she laid her head 

upon my breast

and seduced me

with stories 

unchained

in their ability

to wrap me in her cloak

of density.

lips, 

so sweet 

and tantalizing,

whispering details

that my soul

has yearned to decipher.

a kiss on the neck,

a caress 

of my desire,

has turned me 

into the slave she sought.

heated exchanges

as she exaggerates,

so perfectly and true,

and all i seek

is more of her succulent

encounters.

wrapped in her arms,

the visions 

i receive

are nothing short

of nirvana.

they stretch forth 

 filling my emptiness

with spectacular

promises

that could never be.

nevertheless

each day,

each night,

i long for the horrific

instability

that she showers.

now the days grow short

and her time 

has drawn nigh.

she has become 

a picture of dorian

in all it's gray splendor...

and the love we had

wanes.

her beauty,

once that of an innocent 

child,

now disgusts me.

her grip 

has loosened

and i kill 

the memory of her

with

ale and spirits.

away she floats,

soon to be replaced

with another lie.

in the blink of a moment

the air was crisp and cool,

not unlike

 any other sleepy morning...

until finality slithered in.

our days,

 filled with endless

orders and demands

that don't amount 

to a hill of beans,

useless paperwork

which flows like water,

came to an abrupt halt.

we listened...

the essence of evil

had entered 

sandy's womb 

and snatched 

our children away.

she knew not 

of his coming

and opened herself

to the vile deed 

which ripped hearts

and shredded belief.

her souls 

cried out for mercy

and sang false hymns 

to shield angels 

from the fury

contained 

in a demonic wasteland.

sadistic eyes stared,

from an empty shell, 

before darkness 

consumed those

that fell

and the blood

of innocence

cried out to the heavens,

"why have thou forsaken us?"

concerning that day

and hour

we know not...

yet the mind of a madman

sealed fate,

delivering a personal hell

and memories 

frozen in time.

can you hear them?

they weep.

long wails that rise

as wisps of smoke.

they yearn for the sound

of yesterday's promises

and a warm hug.

the thundering disciplinary voice's 

and the comforting laughter

of friends...

gone in an instant.

they are no more,

still they are.

they belonged to newtown

yet they are ours

in spirit.

the tiny reminders

that life is precious

and we need look no further

than those we have been blessed with.

as you gather in the days to come,

remember them.

hear their giggles

on the cool breeze

and lift them gently in prayer.

know that the delusion

contained at the end of a barrel

meant nothing.

what he saw as death

was the beginning

of compassion 

and understanding

forever.

damon's game

  Damon looked at the number on his phone again. Yeah. He was sure he didn't know who the hell it was. He wasn't in the habit of answering unknown numbers. He had to many encounters with his ex that turned into nightmares. But this was the third time this week that the number had popped up. He was starting to feel uneasy.

 The sound of his general ringtone slammed into his ears.

 Going against all he truly believed...he answered.

  "Look...who the hell is this? I know you had to hear my voicemail. I don't know you. Stop calling!"

  He waited for some sort of answer. There had to be some sick minded individual playing a sordid game. This was it. If he had to curse them out and find a way to have their phone cut off, he would.

  "Um...is this 2777?" The voice was soft and sweet. Not what he had expected at all. The woman sounded sexy but genuinely unsure of herself and the situation.

  "Yeah...but who this?" He had to keep the hard edge just in case.

  "My name is Kandi. I've had this number for a while. It used to belong to a friend of mine. We haven't been in contact for a long time. Do you know a Robert Jones?"

  Damon chuckled and took the phone away from his ear. His devious side oozed out and he licked his lips. This just might play into his hands.

 "Ohhhh! Yeah. I know Rob! That's my nigga! We used to play ball on Saturday's at the Y! What's your name? Kandi?"

 "Yes...I'm so sorry I-"

 "Hey! It's aight. You wanna come by? He told me that you'd be callin' soon. You can wait here until he comes by. Trust me. He can be an idiot when it comes to time management. Where can I pick you up?" He was hoping she'd take the bait. Her voice was so damn sexy and inviting. The rest of her had to be just as appealing.

  "Well...sure. Why not. In fact...I'm right out side your door."

  No fucking way! He figured the sex gods were shining on him again! He pushed the end button on his cell, tossed it aside, jumped from the sofa and trotted to his apartment door. He looked carefully through the peep hole. No shit. There she was. She was wearing a black trench coat. Her hair was wet  and surrounded her gorgeous face with ringlets or curls.

  He opened the door and she smiled, revealing a set of gorgeous teeth. She licked her plump wine colored lips and walked in. Damon closed the door, never taking his eyes off her frame as she glided by. He was mesmerized. She unbuttoned the coat and let it fall to the floor. She was wearing only a black bustier, purple thong and heels. Her ample ass jiggled as she balanced her weight on one leg and bent a knee. She turned around to face him.

 "You're not Robert. But this is what we used to do..."

  Kandi slowly walked over to him, dropped to her knees and reached into the crotch of his boxers. His dick was willing and ready. It had gotten hard as she moved closer. A quick maneuver and it was out. She ran her tongue from his balls along the underside of his wood. He moaned as she took the tip into her mouth and swirled her tongue in circles. Her eyes blinked and fluttered as she slowly took in the length and girth of his thick tube. It was halfway in her mouth when he felt the back of her throat. He placed his hands on her head and guided her all the way down to the base of his dick.

  His moaning told her that she was making the right move. Slowly, she pulled her head backwards, leaving a thick trail of spit. It glistened and dripped down his balls onto the carpet. She opened her mouth for air and slurped the head. Their eyes met as she looked up at him. He pulled himself from her mouth and hopped out of the shorts. He positioned her head and slid back into her warm mouth and throat. The slippery feel of her lips made him pump faster. The sounds of wet, thick sex filled the air. She took her mouth away in mid stroke.

 "Fuck me."

 Damon moved her over to the sofa. He leaned her across it and pulled the thong down. He slid into her wet pussy with a long gush. Kandi looked back at him. "She talkin' to you bay. You...like that?" She cooed between strokes. Damon grunted his satisfaction and plunged deeper into her juicy snatch.

  He gripped her thick ass cheeks and pulled them apart as he pounded her soft pussy. He looked down and watched his fat dick slide in and out of her hole. She was matching him stroke for stroke. Kandi reached under her stomach and found his nut sack. She cupped and fondled it as he glided in and out. She felt herself tingling and her nipples were getting hard and sensitive. She eagerly cupped one of her breasts and sucked the nipple. That put her over the edge. She gripped the back of the sofa and slammed her ass onto Damon's surging dick.

  The next thing Damon did, sent shock waves through her body. He reached under, found her clit and rubbed as they both moaned and exploded in ecstasy.

 Damon rolled onto his back. He struggled to catch his breath as he sat smiling at Kandi. She was leaning over the sofa, her ass still poked out.

 "You're right...." She let out softly. "Role play is a muthafucka!"

krispy creme

the heat

from her silhouette

drew him,

called to him

like a beckoning urge

that needed to be scratched.

vanilla cupcake

infused skin,

supple and smooth,

met his kiss

pulling an eager tongue

along the road map

of her brown insanity.

the dip of her navel,

the mound of outer lips

that meet lips,

searching for inner lips

and the union

is complete.

hungry soul

devouring the creamy essence

which runs

in thick streams

as he licks 

and her hips grip.

she fucks his face

while he quickens the pace

to make her drown

in the ecstasy

of his carnal desires.

pink on pink

wetness

causes a salty explosion.

moans of satisfaction

rip through gritted teeth...

dwindling sighs

tell the tale of a deed

done well indeed.

the sounds of heavy breathing

unite

as hunger is quenched

but for one night.

field of dreams reloaded

how can the melody

that once caused my heart

to flutter

in anticipation,

fade into devil toothed

demons

which taunt and jest?

the touch,

so warm and inviting,

now stirs

deep regret

in the form of late night

hunger pangs

and

incessant cries 

for attention.

i cover my ears

and turn a deaf soul

to the thing

which wears your 

countenance.

to send it

into the cornfield

would be bliss.

a worn mind

can summon

no such happiness.

crushed memories

remain at the ready,

to fill the void

anger 

has created.

empty copulation

invades

as darkness

turns to morning dew.

false moans,

in the key of yesterday,

slither

through sleep laden

gray matter,

pulling wanton desires

from dead curiosity.

the deed is done.

once again

i must rise to repeat,

rise to repeat,

rise...

scratch that.

routines are good.

my life is no longer mine

it's ours.

i'd trade eternity

for an escape

from this haunting

concerto,

my kingdom

for a wish.

But the survival

of innocence

brightens the horizon. 

apple cider vinegar

the path 

to the right path

or any other path

screams

beneath a wet kiss.

disturbing dreams

of sister katrina

haunt

through visions

varnished

with 

deja,

deja,

deja-vu.

steel and concrete

monsters

bathed 

in salty tears 

while 

mechanical birds 

drop their necks

and bow 

to the majesty and power

of the Creator.

human frailty 

rears an ugly 

yet predictable head

that imagines and acts

upon the fears 

of the weak.

searching

through piles 

of yesteryear's memories...

defying the moral demand,

rooted 

in that which is right,

only to realize 

what is wanted

isn't that 

which is needed.

cries in the dark 

linger towards 

a fortnight

as hope remains vigilant

yet reality is reflected

in pools of stagnant water.

distraught mothers 

pray for deliverance

and receive 

the ultimate curse.

gray swirls

pound the right 

with droplets of rage

as eyes watch

in horrified disbelief.

yet the surf recedes

leaving the entrails

of her visit.

soon...

the snakes will slither

through their holes,

queens will mate

with the shore.

all will be as it once was.

but we will never

forget.

lost

she waits

for the appointed time

which curls 

around her intestines 

like a beautiful noose.

the footsteps

are always quiet

and paced.

one...

two...

three...

they inch 

towards her chamber 

of pink

with confidence 

and 

apathetic lust.

her disdain is disillusioned

by the sheer fact

that the warmth

is genuine love.

so she stays quiet

while vile deeds

penetrate and punish

tender emotions...

turning them

into razor fanged

memories

that long to feed

upon the fleshly sameness

that gave her life.

confusion erupts

as scintillating sensuality

pours 

from once upon a child

and a woman emerges

dressed

in the funeral regalia

of times gone black.

satanic thrusts

engorge her kitten

with seeds 

of bitterness

which will someday

feed her revenge.

but yet

cuddly caresses

ensure 

that this is normal.

creeeeeak...

the chamber is sealed

until the sordid thirst

rises once more.

sign language

her days 

and nights

meld 

into one another

creating the monster

she refuses to see.

apathetic cries

sleep

just beneath the surface

and writhe

with fervor

as they try to escape

the ineptitude 

of those who have eyes

but yet 

no eyes.

soft flesh

tattered and torn

to please the insatiable 

lust

that lurks 

whenever she walks

among the living.

white coat

induced slumber

while the reality

present in dreams

overtakes and stumbles.

the cold hands,

slithering 

into the forefront

and shattering

her screams to be whole.

verbal barrage

smothering the intent

that was once

innocence...

now lost in the fire

to be consumed

with any shred

of moral or mental

decency.

she weeps

and 

weeps.

praying 

for her moment

of deliverance

that never

comes.