Anonymous
Lust traced a tattoo on my lips; the colours of passion.
Softly budding away a cigarette,
Leaving a mouthful of harmony,
With the smell of kings and whisky.
Sparks flew as a light died down,
Of a lighter’s massive attack!
There, suddenly, drew closer another.
Marijuana to my soul, sublime to lust,
Emotion took over like the fading of autumn brown leaves,
That left me; invigorating in the subtle sours of skin deep scars.
Invigorating in the dilemmas that crush me, squeeze me soulless.
“There can’t be one, two and three!”
If there can’t be one, there can’t be two and there can’t be three!
The counsellor stars in the sky, seem to misguide,
Like to a sailor on a stormy night.
A cherry blossom bloomed, stood bright.
On a black tree, nudging a little colour
To the darkness, that runs beyond the sea.
Alone it stood, lonely.
Against the black and white: Binaries.
Night winds, man handle the petals.
The non-existent warmth of the moon,
Slyly blanketed with clouds,
Let shivers run down, petals quiver and colour turn ice.
Oh Ginsberg!
My only loving companion.
I beg of you! please,
Stay up tonight and amuse me.
Josephite Literary Review 