"Accarezzevole" -- "Pub Crawl"

"Accarezzevole"

Clothed by an aria delicate as lingerie
Hear her voice sashay
Like a lithe ballerina
Twirling in a cantina
Dancing with smoke
Every lusting ear she’ll soak,
Cause to anthropomorphize
Till we see the nymph’s eyes
Nach und nach belebter
Und leidenschaftlicher.
Her cabaletta
Like a cheetah
Seductively dangerous.
Devotees die to service
Provide a red carpet
Target for a sharp hit
So a foot immaterial
Can stroll on imperial
Never touching the ground.
Fawning over the sound
Of a vocal sketch
She can casually etch
Teardrop breasts
Leaving lovers praying
“God free me from abstaining
I don’t care who detests.
Hearing her sing
Got me turgid wondering
Could I fuck a voice?
It left me so moist.
Lord follow and figure
No vulgar trigger
Aiming a pole
Down a throat hole.
Jesus have a little class,
Angelic choirs en masse
Silence for her solo
A soaring legato
Melting body and soul --
Christ, I’m losing control.”
Lovingly insane
Turn to the arcane
Chasing the ethereal
In hope it can be real.
Penning in blood
Notes and lyrics flood.
Accarezzevole like Scriabin,
Mystic chords for the win.
Akkord pleromy
Providing more than imagery.
Still can’t grip the
Musical vista,
But this Prometheus chord
May well afford
A chance to hold her
More than aurally
I’d so prefer
Something physically
Hand in hand…
Is that so hard to understand?

"Pub Crawl"

I.
Try not to leer
At the chandelier
Covered in lingerie.
Admiring the array
Recognize that bra?
Pick up your jaw.
Then if you think they’ll hear
Call a bartender near.
The bi queen of Tom Boys
Making men her toys,
Or wave to African Moses
Working beer hoses.
He’s kind as a panda,
And friends with Amanda
Who’s been known to go
Down for a shot so –
Just make it tequila,
And take it like a fire dealer
Living for the burn.
(Some never learn
As if 42 bucks an ask
Might ensure the task.)
Blink.  She drank three.
Don’t look at me.
I’m just happy to see
The joke’s on you.
What’d you think you were due?
It’s that kind of think
Got you teetering on the brink
Of blue ball delirium,
But don’t be glum
We’ll get black lipstick
All over ya dick
Before the night is done.
It only takes one.

​II.
Try not to sneer.
Isn’t it dear?
Are they asleep, or are they dead?
Where they lay better than any bed
The regulars, Kings of the bottle
Noses rouged a rosy mottle
Swill swoll livers birthing bellies
Eyes glazed gazing at tellies
Absorbing baseball scores
Vacantly until the stores
Of beer in their bones
Demand repayment of loans.
Time paid in advance
With a promise one day to chance
The risks youth said would always be there
Just in reach if a hand was willing to dare.
Decades gone hands arthritic
Hardly grasp a glass.  Comically tragic,
Perhaps, but don’t laugh at the tears
Salting their beers
Because the loan sharks
Won’t miss their marks
Inflicting grievous harm,
And no kind of charm
Lucky or otherwise
Can resist the surprise
That shouldn’t be surprising
The guillotine rising.
Pay respect a shot at a time
The crime
Won’t be regicide
It’ll be suicide.
We owe them for not being us.
Then get on the bus
Headed west
Doing our best
To stay with sunset.
This crawl isn’t done yet.

III.
Trip over a crack inches long canyon deep
Laughing on the plunge fall asleep
Before hitting bottom.  The rocks won’t break
Though the skull may feel a need to make
A grab for the glue.
Liquid stitches sew it good as new.
Orange juice,
And a sworn truce
Pledging if the stomach doesn’t spew
Won’t fashion a brew
So same can cure same,
Hair of the dog, a more common name.
The treaty breached,
Sink barely reached,
Slug a beer to prove
There’s always a countermove.
Jagged jigsaw pieces stick together
An abstract foggy view with no tether,
Bits lost like a dream,
But it would seem
Devils got angels to slip them
In heaven for some mayhem.