Poetic Tales

I envy this poem which I am
writing to you.
With a loving kiss my message is
without my lips but I can imagine
how your lips may taste.
It has no eyes in which to recognise your face,
no nose to smell your scent,
no hands to touch your smooth, soft skin
it is only a poem and can not attain all this.
Yet I envy this poem inches from
your lips held in your hands,
being looked upon by your bright eyes.
Put my poem against your heart,
just say you love the feeling so
I can touch you with words.
Can you imagine?

Youngest Child and Daughter of the Warlock King

I envy this poem,
this is a nice verse
make guitar strings from my hair
and put these words to song.
We’ll make a bounty
so you never have to ride that
motor bike again.
How many times have you fallen of
that metal horse.

How many times have you had lovers
in the night?

That many times it must have hurt.
If you read in the press that I am
in love with a fool
pay them no mind.
What will the papers say of me and you?

The junkie and the madman
the new King and Queen of bohemia.
They will put the paper gun to both
of us and blow our heads off
with insults.

Shall I commit suicide?

You're not leaving me in this world alone.
Slit your wrists and I’ll drink your blood
and die of an overdose.
Not quite Romeo and Juliet.

I am going to kill you by giving birth to
your child. Let your flesh and blood grow
within my womb, run away from your God
and I will runaway from my God and
together we can worship our child.
Do my toes still taste like cherries?
Hours of passion till my long hair
sticks to your sweaty face.
What would Eve say if I stole her Adam?
Will we go
to hell for such passion?

What timing your
sister is here!

You have the sixth sense my Lord.
Quick hide

Fee fy foe thumb I smell the blood
of a Christian, little sister
is never happy unless she is snorting some.

Are you here to trade insults
elder sister?

No my Lady I want to borrow your
toe varnish, the one that smells like
cherries or maybe the black mail
varnish may be more fitting.