Tantric Kundalini

barefeet

tantric kundalini

powered

no shoe

thoughts

of a goddess

ensue

tear drops

that taste like dew

my poems

are part of you

waiting

outside a trembling door

in queque

Peace Silence No Surge

standing wet

shivering

catching

a cold

outside the graveyard

silence of her trembling door

like little baby waves kissing

the hem of her receeding sea shore

she who once called me a journaler

now is blog spotted through her back door

two comments from this indian labradors

he wants nothing to do with me furthermore

an american blog goddess my multicolored

fuckwit heart wont ignore

to old times she who can make me

or break me wont restore

enslaved to a sly moment we did not explore

poetic pestilence pictorial parody my paramour