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Sunday, March 07, 2010

The Rhythm of Flesh

A Magnum Opus

your body is a bird's wing,
a brush stroke's flash
from a genius delivering
his magnum opus; a flesh
of purpose making me sing;

                  ordinary contours are light
                  dependent to make a difference,
                  yet yours shine so bright;
                  configurations of a silky cadence
                  even in a profile of night,

your every pore is a song
with its own beat and hum
teaching me to keep strong,
moving to a divine rhythm
that vibrates on and on;

                  melodies on the edge of a knife
                  leading me into a trance,
                  dreaming me into your life;
                  your an invitation to a dance
                  I've been waiting for all my life.


After the Party


The party was over. So was the opaque vodka.
We had stared at each other
all night long.
                  I knew why I was staring at you.
You were the most beautiful
thing I'd ever seen.
                  A pull with no rhyme or reason,
just a beat to deafen
all other music playing.

Eyes igniting
a pilot light; giving
permission to take flight
with you.
                  A tight
fission of burning from the inside
through to the rough-hide
of first intuition
proven right

I wanted to take you
and fly away into
the deepest part
of the heart of the night.
                   To take shelter under
tender bellies, simmering passions surrendering
to fertile juices swelling
with delight; I yearned to fill you
with something to endure through
the night

Slowly, you walked on over
to me.
                  Like a moth to its lover
flame, your body moving
with all the intention of asking
me to dance, even though
the party was through.
                  Slowly you came closer,
I realised that nothing is ever over.


There was no need for words between us.
                  With a flame's oblique glance,
you had shortened the distance
between us.
                  Our eyes were saying all we needed to
know the whole night through.
                  And I knew then inexplicably that as every
song has its own melody, so do we.

To learn another's grooves
is like learning dance moves.
                  There is a rhythm to everything,
as long as you listen out for its beating
you can learn to dance to it,
just put your ear to its breast.
                  Like dancing, like breathing, like loving,
listen out to its particular melody singing,
to harmonise yourself with another's rhythm.

Such dancing makes you turn
in time with the world.
                  You burn
away all darkness upon your door,
you're dancing on a slippery floor.
                  When you feel its over,
when you feel you can't do any more, never
underestimate the power
of another's melody beating
against your own

So, we found each other. The party was done,
but we held each other; coming undone,
we listened out to the melody
in us as we slowly
learned to dance
to a music no one could hear but us.
                  We moved to its beat,
in turn we listened to the other, chest to breast.
                  We had caught each other
like moths in flaring light,
burning into oblivion in the night.

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