Bantering with Octagons

Heh. Thanks.

Tie her up in ribbons like a birthday gift. Throw out the wrapping and play with the box.
 
The box is full of kisses, lips adorned with smiles, moistened with the dews of early morn.
 
A kiss from a Prague streetcar conductor is truly "out of the box"... Adorned with Madonna's gap, locks & henna'd hands, she snakes her tongue sensually around mine - no character in Franz' dreary prose she - born in that special, short-lived Spring of '68 - at 32, The Velvet Revolution brought her sexy laugh to life.
 
Like fingertips trailing hotwetsleek something, laughter is fundamentally sexy. It's gotta be real, though. Fake it, baby, and you lose.
 
a laugh is orgasm
overwhelmingly good
but who laughs during an orgasm?

two together, mayhap, would be tooooo much
like a pleasure circuit breaker buster
gotta unplug the laugh
or the orgasm'll just blow you out

giggle
oooooooohhhhhhh
pppfffffffffft
zzzzt

(nothing)
 
Noting nothing;
Blind deaf and numb in a gold and midnight jeweled city; Freezing in the middle of a heat wave and thusty in the middle of the ocean. Cigarette burns and bite marks half remembered by the rich man's psychologist.
 
The melancholy beauty of the rich man's psychologist,
a girl with a natural lack of vanity,
Laughing as I came.
That wistful charm of smile
A tremendous and invigourating gale
Bursting over and out of me.
She is a glorious, long-stalked rose.

"Revolution," I cry.
"Pas encore", she giggles.
 
Post-climax smiling.
Eyes entwined.
Pleasure suffusing senses.
Tenderness freely offered.
Fingers entwined.
Post climax giggling.
 
Grind and grate entwined
Bone sleeved in flesh,
Blunt buds in moonlight
brushed by wind,
Soft chalky look of breast.

It's been a long road from the crematorium.
Sunburn feels like furnace fire,
Strawberry fields forever.
 
Jimmy Hepburn came to Canada to attempt the "Great bale out", but all the snivelly little emigré bastards did was bale out themselves - and the cold wind of John Knox' empty prose could not bring the corpse to life. Lives are changed forever - the machines sit idle, with no folk to tend them - dust gathers - and the silence of the rust makes a mockery of the greatness gone before: Clyde-built - but not in Toronto!
 
Dust gathers in the corners of my eyes, filtering my vision to haze and heaven. Clouds fill my ears, damping down sound until all I am able to hear is the singing of the frogs to the stars and then sighing of kittens.
Earth tilts and I slide away.
 
Bathing Barbies........

Wrong answer, just ask my 13 year old daughter....She bathes with them all the time. As far as Fred Flintstone.......that's another story now isn't it...............Octigans, those are stop signs or in Europe caution signs at least! Give me a square or triangle any time..........:p :p :p :p
 
A cardiod is almost two half-cirlces,
heart shaped,
Inclined or disinclined,
depending on the axis.
"Men are meant to share
Her life as life does air"
 
Two half circles of oranges drip sweet juice on the counter while i ponder the improbable meaning in the notion that a nonagon has nine sides. Sweetness perfumes the air as my life tilts slowly toward perfect orange balance.
 
Librium, orange-flavoured stability
Valium, purple hearts
Equi Librium.
Horizontal rain.
The walls do not echo
to the legend of her tears.
 
Rind binds time to free green flowers of sighing lustful black tortoise tanks in an industrial 69 position for the purpose of sharing air and fire tits.
 
fire tits ablaze with white-blue heat
madness creeping into my eyes
i feel the scream building
sucking air
pause

slow grin slides over my face
as burning tits drip sizzling fat across my belly
the scream stays within
as pain intolerable
is tolerated
like madness
is tolerated
for you can't not tolerate
what is

and madness is


cackle madness into the night air
bring it home
set it free
 
Pain intolerable is tolerated and set free as screaming pleasure, transformed as wild need, made wanton by the application of will and acceptance. Truly we are only as human as our capacity for pleasure is great.
 
Wild need transformed is welded in
Dew lined, too
Virgin red vine leaf unfurled.
A symbol of a pain, past
But inscribed within.
 
Pristine virgin fjords
Divine madness with the Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy
(Of Company B Cup)
Tatooed Tips
Such a fantasy.
I need an island.
 
No man is an island say the sages.
Homilies get to be homilies by being true.
 
Come into the circle. The sage sits on the shingle, waiting for us to emerge from the forest, onto the beach and into his mind's eye.
 
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