mellow satire poetry by cinty-insanity, literature
Literature
mellow satire poetry
Beautiful contemporary muse,
in denim and plaid clad hips you'll infuse
my only positive trait,
artistic bipolarity
Your cheeky smile, joking lips
speak mellow satire poetry
longing to taste your prose,
as of yet undiscovered.
Pretty girl, in blindness
you'll find clarity in me,
or vice versa.
Bleed gold words in silver verse
endearing, your modest insecurities
behind wooden eyes seeing
straight through me.
Time denies fervent hands' greet
Shuffling forward my eager feet
Impatience acknowledged, no longer discrete
Waiting over, pulse upbeat
Relief wins over, triumphant peak
Alone again, no need to speak
Breathing ceased, softest cheek
Lips hunting, fingers sneak
Endless eyes adored so much
Overwhelming praise, guiltless touch
'I missed you too' said as such
In truthful tones, astounding luck
Searching always for lying eyes
Never found, honestly denies
In heartfelt passion, candid replies
Shock when, unexpectedly, realise,
This is more than it should be.
And yet
You are all the words I cannot find
All the joys yet undefined
Sw
Caught up in a moment by cinty-insanity, literature
Literature
Caught up in a moment
Sweat drips
Heart skips
Begging for redeeming lips
Mumbles, trips
Uncertain hips
Welcome trembling fingertips
Eyes glint gold
As tongues unfold
Words disintegrate untold
Kisses bold
Heat the cold
Never surrender loving hold
Frantic race
Losing grace
Pupils dilate, lashes trace
Knuckles lace
Face to face
Content in infinite embrace
I fell for Summer once by cinty-insanity, literature
Literature
I fell for Summer once
I fell for summer once,
And of course I melted;
She was too gorgeous for withstanding heat,
Her nouns who promised autumn,
Would perhaps be more sincere.
Of course I fell, and blindly.
Unlike my heroes, no epic written for my mirror,
Now I shiver in the reflection,
Contemplating questions without adjectives,
And it's quite the eyesore.
Winter no longer soothes her heat,
Rather it puts our differences in contrast,
Striking and painful, one wishes for the next month, then the next,
Before realising there's no reprieve
From embarrassing Spring comparisons.
I never gave up on her, of course,
I gave in, really, and she cringed,
Screw living, I'm better at lying
Screw giving, I'm better at dying
Screw you and your selective temperament
No matter how temporary, still,
I've got -
Things to do,
Things to say,
Things to tell
Myself (again)
But I'm busy
Being bored
And annoyed with who I am,
And who you're promising to be.
I'm writing a book
To pass time I don't have -
About love, about death,
About doubt.
About being afraid
Of snapping dehydrated petals
(I won't say dead
Because I'm still alive;
Just thirsty for affection)
Please do tread carefully.
I seem to have misplaced
My attention span
And the likable part
Of me
Of who?
I used to be
♪♫
I remember when
I used to play connect the dots
With your beauty marks and
I could make picture perfect sheet music
Audible to those on the other side of sanity
I read your voice's musical notes
With the composers eye, and
Beethoven's ear and
For the very first time I heard my song.
The melody that sung me from oblivion;
Mental images of finest tunes
Are what I've been nodding my head to lately,
And every now and then
I find the amiable notes in my seldom plucked heart strings -
Out of tune from misuse
(or disuse)
But either way, it doesn't matter
You refuse to learn how to play.
At least, not with me.