On the table our future is laid
as the cards show the hand we played
in the past we built today,
inflicted wounds make us decay.
We have aged, but cannot die.
These cards do not lie,
our wounds will not do us in,
what will is the pain within.
You are a jewel, a diamond in the rough
I look at you and I cannot get enough.
You shine bright. You sparkle like a gem.
You are like a rose without its stem.
You are quite a find
for a precious rock, perfectly refined
and cut, ground down to perfection.
You leave no room for inspection.
You are flawless, incomparable,
your beauty is incomprehensible.
A candle cannot be held.
Your radiance cannot be quelled.
I must make a confession
stealing is my profession,
and tonight your heart is mine.
I will seduce you and shine
bright with passion red,
for I am a thief tonight invading your head
I will case your mind,
mapping the inside I will find
your every desire,
and I will stoke your fire:
caress your hips
and steal your lips
in hot fashion.
I will steal you with red passion.
Here we have the sickness of flesh
where man rapes man with a mesh
of blades, pulling each other into darkness,
but alas there is another sickness
other than murder, a practice so perverse
that pulls us deeper into a curse.
What we have is sex glorified
and it is a norm that all must abide.
It is acknowledged by all and cannot be escaped,
for every day our eyes and ears are raped.
Although sex empowers
men and women with showers
of confidence, and knocks your self-esteem
if all you do is dream.
We do practice, but some abhore
the normal perversion that most ignore.
When you enter the room
my heart bursts forth like a monsoon
with a flood of fire, boom
and my body roars like a typhoon
though gentle like a candle-flame
and reserved like a tidal wave
I flicker down growing lame
and yet my tides make me crave
for your eyes, heart and lips,
your passion, beauty and soul,
even those craving hips
urge me to pay the toll.
I cannot stand it when we are apart
For you forever have my heart.
Here we have the sickness of greed,
the beast that we all must feed,
Fed from the fires of need and want.
It is a sickness that does haunt us all
Us all to the core, and yet we need it
to survive. It cannot be forfeit
For it gave us land, water and food,
and unnecessary necessities that without leaves us nude
In the forest of society,
a place where sobriety
cannot be obtained
so we are unconsciously pained
to feed the fire
of society’s desire.
Feel my vibrations,
sense my sensations
echoing in the air,
burning like a flare
like a tribal fire.
I ripple and perspire
with beats, sick with intensity.
I vibrate off your density
booming loudly with stick upon stick,
hand upon hand and I get sick
with beats hard and loud.
I echo loud and proud
with a bang and a boom.
Forever my vibration will loom
on your heart and soul
just so long as you pay that toll.
- Something about the drum (goddessinthebelly.wordpress.com)
- Talking Drums (msamba.wordpress.com)
- Listen to the Drum Beat (keithgarrettpoetry.com)
- 3rd type of Disco Rhythm (reginasutisno1315casblog.wordpress.com)
- Drum Sticks (tensstudio.wordpress.com)