Velvet Sabres/Trickle/Saturating Sighs

Velvet Sabres

I'm just an wounded phantom
flowing as jaded elixir
into your cerebral prism,

mending the weeping smile
in your fractured velvet theater
rolling away the stone caress
liberating your kunoichi garden
slay me with angel's trumpet kisses.

Copyright ©2019
WhisperingQuill.All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted
in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods,
without the prior written consent
of the author or publisher.
All my poetry is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), WhisperingQuill.

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Trickle

When I lick the walls
of your pantheon of velvet,

delicate tickling
of your flowered trigger,

transcending your third eye
to the kingdom of lavender,

mi diosa del norte;

in the groan
of the little death
Rainbow
steam flow,

I boil your daemons.

Copyright ©2019
WhisperingQuill.All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted
in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods,
without the prior written consent
of the author or publisher.
All my poetry is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), WhisperingQuill.

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Saturating Sighs 

Lay there my canvas
my sweet,

choose the plea
the symbol of today's
contemplative euphoric retreat,

inside the outer whispers
of your rising gleam,

I sheen the wavy vesper
spiraling from an exhale
as your tummy undulates
lifting a inhibition vale,

a horripilation wave ripples
along every sensuous curve
budding a ridge of taste me
as a délicatesse de rose du désert,

ravenous is my libido
dripping is my pith taster
clustered asunder wings
of elegant coquetry.

Into your swollen respire
a carcinogenic cross
laments velveteen puissance
leaping at a lapped nascency,

bid me Ahone
less drumfire in the beak
and more exegesis bolts
in my hand,

as she withers as a lamb
on the lavender altar,

splitting a rabid ring
diverging a tyrannical tirade,

abolishing Ausculum
in my pyrrhic sacellum.

Ahone=
Means Great Spirit
in Powhatan.

Copyright ©2019
WhisperingQuill.All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted
in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods,
without the prior written consent
of the author or publisher.
All my poetry is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), WhisperingQuill.