Tuesday, April 30, 2013

naked inside out

there’s something so free,
so vulnerable
about being [a woman]
underneath the weight of a man
limbs spread as wide
as her wanting can take them…
so aroused by the hands on her skin, 
his mouth covering hers…breathing for her
as he sucks her tongue
searching her mouth for a flavor too good to label…
creating chilled vibes,
raised and sensitive to touch
…it’s as open as one gets…
the treasure’s chest
unlocked, open and glistening with her value
being plundered over and over
stroking parts unreachable
scratching itches that fingers can’t feel
back arched
naked and nude
receiving and giving
nothing but air, sweat and pheromones between you…

to be open
the door of her sex unhinged…
is the sexiness
trust and sweet oblivion
that brings delight
to being naked…
inside out.

© 2013 Kween Kiwi 

Saturday, April 27, 2013

poem #11: it's like that?

you are
just going to
keep it this way?
you're okay with the silence?

don't see
how things could've
at one time...changed
had you just said something?

have to
ALWAYS speak first
the one to change
apologize, clarify and then justify?

am sick
to damn death
of folks creating space
and being angry about it later!

I not
worthy of you...
your love and concern?
your loyalty, remorse, compassion or time?

is this
a show of
your own personal guilt
and reticence to claim accountability?

make sure
you tell it
the way it happened
including your own part, too...

make me
your scapegoat excuse
and label me bad
because I served zero fucks...

...and yea...it's like that...and that's the way it is.

© 2013 Kween Kiwi 

poems #12-30: i ain't finish

okay, okay
i ain't finish...
i'm sorry
what'chu want?
i told y'all this wasn't going well
i wrote three or more "po' me's" about it...

don't hold it against me
don't judge my pen...
it ran out of [th]ink
couldn't find anyone
who could sell me a refill

so, i apologize for this month
and every one before it,
where my page's pages
whipped empty in the e-wind
with no penciled impressions

maybe next year...
maybe not even that far away
just maybe,
some other day
i'll finish

for now...i ain't. :/

© 2013 Kween Kiwi 

Sunday, April 21, 2013

poem #10: broken pen

i'm not so sure if i'm blocked
or just building them
my pen is pushed by passion
so am i passion-less?
less of a scribe,
because i can't ride a vibe?
been sitting on a lot
of parked prose
and idle lines
nothing fulfilling
the flame of a furied pen turning to ash
not a thing
to catapult me into the throes
the words...
they used to roll like
big mama's panty line
like papa's stone
like a classic caddy on chrome
like damn...
when will it return?
can it be,
my days as a poet
have waned
and i didn't know it?
did i miss the hint
had i never owned this gift
was it just divinely lent?
do i need to be in love,
have my heart wrung dry
just to scribble out fraught lines?
can't you see?
every poem is one of literal longing
beseeching my pen
or ruing love's end
and i want more...
i want epic
poetry for posterity
and i can't even write without
writing out
my pen's black out!

pray for my pen

© 2013 Kween Kiwi 

poem #9: always and never

i realized the other night,
that i am still in love with you...
no matter whose heart shape i trace
or who manages to nuzzle into mine...
in dream time...
my love is yours
the way we fit
[in my dreams]
is the way we fit, then...
and in spite of the reality
that is my awake state
of not wanting you
or needing you
...in my dreams
you're ever present
and a calm to my chaos
my left finger
is always weighted with your promise
and in my slumber...
i hunger to bear your seeds
and i've even dreamed that
you've saved me...
called my name,
as i lay dying in suspended time,
and i woke right up
heart beating
with memories of your hand in mine
why it is that
in the day's light
i'm immune to you
is beyond conscious reason that
i still manage to traipse through
painted dream scenes
with you and mostly you
i realize,
that maybe i'm just in love with nostalgia
and in my dreams...
you're on constant rewind
in a time
where you were all i knew
and now that my eyes are open
 i can't un-see
the unworthiness of you
the way you'll always do what you do
so, i dream you
in perfect state
far better than the truth
which i shake loose
when i awake and remember,
i can never love you again

© 2011 Kween Kiwi

Friday, April 19, 2013

poem #8: midnight oil

As midnight creeps in...
tipping lightly around my awareness
I sit in still thought
how it is I could've been a fool
looped tightly around his middle finger
while he fucked over my love...

Regret plays blaring notes
on my heart
convincing me in a moment
of temporary ire
that I shouldn't have ever made his acquaintance
that, his invite
should have been declined
and forgotten...
but, then...
I come to...
not wanting to trade a single
or hope

Even as I tread forward...
finished with uncertainty
and open-ended breaks,
I see how his place
was invaluable
and classically meaningful...
glad to have undergone
another metamorphosis
causing the rebirth
of the original butterfly's freedom flight...
knowing now,
the depths of my love
and heart's core...

It was all a deliberate process
of loving
lavishing in and about
for a fleeting,
yet eternal time frame...
he brought the biggest of smiles,
heartiest of laughs,
warmest concerns...
and the most guttural
and painful tears...
every nuance of agony
a cracking in my cocoon
giving way to unique
elegantly splashed
more expansive
and intensely colored wings

I will always
hold tightly
with the strength of
the biggest arms
and something
that can only be described
as agape love,
for a man
whose hands never grazed my skin
whose breath never heated my lips
whose eyes,
never met with mine...

I'm going to bed now...
my dreams await...

© 2010 Kween Kiwi

Thursday, April 18, 2013

poem #7: fisticuffs

you attacked my heart
bluntly and coldly 
with a lie from the past
presented to me in the form of
needing to know
you put some stank on it too
my senses were thoroughly
unable to breathe from the stench
and the unbearable clench
my heart was the shape of  YOUR fist
because you held it in your hand
and you just manhandled it
and discarded it 
as if it were just shit
had me...
...yes, you had me
but did you earn me?
i put the cart before the horse
the trust 
before the worthy
the do
before the i
and i...i...i cry
i want to scream as loud as 
my box will deliver
to ask how lillied is your liver
to sit in~dig~nance
when you're the perp and traitor
how do "i" end up holding the bag
however empty...
now i see nothing but
ex cues for you to ex-it
stage left
right into a former me and you
starring you and her
while my universe
i hope the ride in a warped time machine
is worth the sacrifice of the promise
of a classic future with me
i pray that you're released from here
AND fear
and given the dream you chase
so that maybe it was worth it
to lose, the love i gave you
and you don't need to remix
or reprise
another come on
to come home
to a heart that no longer fits
in your fist

© 2008 Kween Kiwi 

what had happened was...

ok...this is the thing,

i supposedly dedicated myself to the month of April because it's Nat'l Poetry Month. i was gung ho and ready to challenge my muse, but she got a case of the idgaf's. BAD.

i haven't been in the mood for people or places or words or serious thought. it's been like this for some time and because i've been in my feelings  about people and things and situations and such...everything poetic has been jumbled up like a clotted vein.

i could lie and say i'll try, but that's not going to happen...no original poems anyway. so here's what i'm going to do.

i'm going to post some poems that i wrote some time ago and a few of them are actually just now seeing the light of day.

a lot are filled with angst and emotion, because a lot were written while angry or sad.

i will not apologize for those who may come and find themselves in my words.

thanks for the patience and support.

i guess, i'll start posting in reverse...

Monday, April 8, 2013

poem #6: this room

this room
swallows me whole
in the middle of night's yawn
i tumble
inhaled by
the hunger of loneliness
my bed,
lapping me up greedily
nuzzling against my temple
warm pseudo lovers
in this room,
i'm servile to its protective purposes
relaxed against
the walls
struggling to stand alone
i can do alone
i'd just rather not
this room,
my painter's brush...
is as much the cramp in my hand
as it is my palette's fancy
in this room,
amid ideas, refuge and vices
i'm in a surreal loop
of many a reason
that convince me
in this room,
is where i belong...
i shouldn't be resigned to this space
and it's not that i even avoid life's face...
it's the way this room holds me
and gives me life,
like my spirit reverberates
off these walls
in a constant rhythm
against my heart
and THAT
makes this room...where i belong.

Friday, April 5, 2013

poem #5: mental storms

my mind scatters like dust to the winds
blowing in tumbles
erratically following careless gales
looking for a place to settle down
a homeless wonder
picking up bits of debris
pieces of the love in me
wicked zephyrs 
whip through the thin layer
i'm barely wearing
this aimless walk through
darkened recesses
proves to be lonely
a savage safari of
tangled emotions and thoughts
attempting to choke me out
yet, i am armed
i carry a sword of words
testimonials of cause and effect
the story of "this"
a train of thought
serving as a path beaten 
one step ahead of mine
to keep me from 
getting tangled in grape vines
on this sojourn
so worn
from being torn
my mind is battered
beaten by the weathered trials
bashed against
tender senses
needing to heal
from sticks that stuck
and stones thrown
with perfect aim
intended pain
my mind roams 
to far away places
to deal with where i stand
all i want
is to rest
find a place of calming airs
flattened terrain
just right rays of shine
convenient shade 
a soft place to lie
and a piece of mind
peacefully mine
sheltered from the weathered storms
mental storms

© 2008 Kween Kiwi 

poem #4: no o'clock in the morn

the 3 o'clock hour
and hits real hard
out of my mind
out of my body
tears torn in my astral fabric
of repetitive dreams
cycling underwater
backstroking through clouds
ass backwards
feelings so real
that i awake
tears like flowing milk
without my honey
no o'clock
in the morning
eyes wide
seeing nothing
the lonely...
the void...
to travel
through mental states
searching for a place
to live without you
i only pray
that every day
gets me closer
to closure
to understanding
from the frustrating
i beg
for sleep
in the wake of you
i crave
to never yearn
never long
never need
that you're gone
not caring
about me
the 4 o'clock hour
and i'm still here
for time
to fast forward
just so
i can sleep

© 2008Kween Kiwi 

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

poem #3: subconsciously

i've begun to crave him
i must want his love
i didn't know i wanted his touch,
his smile,
to open me back up
to daydreams
and reanimate
the long sleeping love for love,
seemingly tucked away
with years
of relationships
and disappointments
 out of a subconscious nowhere
astral dreams
of marriage
and declarations of loving me
until our souls no longer linger...
begin to prod my desires awake
i've begun to search him
in crowds
and aisles
and lots
to see if his eyes
will explain the why
...why is it that these thoughts
have arrived
and from where
did they derive?
i need to grasp
the yen for him
why is it
i want him to profess his love
to declare
with poetic flair...
that the ones before
were throw-aways
from bad catches
wherever he found himself before,
 life was feckless
no depth
and no height
not quite dark,
yet not enough light
...and there in lies his quest
to disrupt my last two night's of rest
holding a torch
of the love i lost
a dream's guide
to find the love inside
an astral hand
to lead me to love
emerging tangible
and fulfilled in his eyes
and the enveloping hug
that has clearly been
the catalyst to my dreams

...good night.

poem #2: love loss

i can't quite remember
the residual heat
from extinguished embers
the smoky reminder
ashen chips
from a once raging fire
i'm still...cool...glass
reflecting light
...water rolling off me
a surface unchanged
until bluntly cracked
or under pressure
i remember nothing
of passions engulfing
wild and reckless
just caution,
a flame-less candle
lit...no danger of growing
no danger of losing control
...my heart is absent
of the feeling
that stirs beneath the breast
and gives life to bated breaths
and boils up
like water
touching lava
causing seas unrest...
...i have not selected
not to recollect
i want nothing more
than for my heart to crackle
with erratic blaze
and give spring to my step
balm to my face
and love in my heart...
...it just seems that,
i'm to be abject to this memory loss...
love's memory loss

Monday, April 1, 2013

National Poetry Month: poem #1

so, I just finished a challenge on my Kaleidoscope blog. check out 30 Days of Days and be sure to catch other challenge-takers on the left side under "dem challenge takers".  seeing that it is National Poetry Month, I figured perhaps NOW would be the time to pursue some inspiration.

i've been lacking in this department...not writing poetry...for some time now. it's definitely overdue. so, here's my first poem...a freestyle.

who i am

if ever there was truth
to the assumption of who i am
i'd be lord over many minds
more hearts
and a few hands
i'd be a big deal
a glorious display
a kween without a throne
i'd be a catcher's mitt,
a wide receiver
for all the shade that's been thrown
if i were to manifest
the hateful words
used to describe my vibe
i'd be a everything,
but a child of God
if i bought into the lies
some have marked me victim
because i dare to respond with "ouch"
some have marked me sneaky
because i don't air my dirty laundry out...
i'm naive (which is funny, since i'm also deceptively evil)
i'm petty (which causes guffaws, since i'm supposed to be too good to people)
i'm everything
and nothing
i'm a liar
hated for the truth
i'm spoken of in whispers
my flaws supposedly proof
if i believed myself
to be deserving of what i'm served
i'd dig the ditch
lie down in the bitch
and cover myself with dirt
but, i know better
i be a kween...so fuck what'chu heard

in the butterfly net...

i ink...i flow...i pen,
my soul, my words, my zen