steve duski

 

nesting angels will tell you

Whoever goes within
comes built
for the domain
& the deluge .
Nesting angels
featherless wings
will shield whispers
from The
God that Loves you .
Countless attempts
at touching
the Mystical Promised
Land , fall
into the shadowy
caresses of untruths
& validated deceit .
De-activated
devils will tell you
no such place Exists .
Whoever goes within
begins again .
Defending naked flesh
is penned
with blood upon sheets
of Time .
Nesting angels
call in the language
of lovers, who desire
there whishes
above all others.
And freedom
is a word never used
by nesting angels
Bound by the strings
in the sky
that hangs them
as Puppets
for no Other, needless
for me to expose .
Who pulls you
to the tune of plastic
glances & moves to
truly enflame
defame & claim you ?
Peacock quills
describe unearthly
sunsets that rise
to the arrival of Strange
fruit, bizarre thirst
& insatiable thought.
Whoever goes within
comes built
for the domain
the deluge & the escape.

 

consume & let go

Tomorrow nights, set up spot lights
to catch your laughter . You'll split
when you weep in between
crazy promises you'd offered
& accepted for mere warmth .
Blissful electricity belongs
touching
the inside of your skin. Holding
yourself tenderly. Belated orgasmic
high. Only your eyes steal
your innocent moans & deep
tender tones of consume & let go.
Draped naked rolling eyes
pur to lead you into make believe.
Swinging hips dance transparent
you move your feet . Seize desire
by your side. Take a couple more
looks & step aside into the great
unknown world that takes you
by the hand. To spot lights illuminating
dreams. Pale lipstick whispers
faded resistance suck & kiss your
advances of scribe & claw. Belated
orgasmic high. Pearls of the cosmos
hang in pointlessness around your
many moods like Jupiter. Erasing
trails spread in conversations over
coffee. To catch your laughter
spotlights have been set up. Ever
since the day you decided to split.

I always lay dying in your dreams .


in the UNDERGROUND - way out in Western Australia,
at a place covered in Madonal lilys called
Maragerett River

 

Transport to Paradise
Transport to paradise


steve duski
     Having become insecure, when the cards delt are always the same, from the age of 9 i became the 'toilet poet'. Substantial trial & error has built me up to attack the Web. Born in a Small Town, i've no problem seeing that as Simple success. Together with the ashtrays of promise & the bedsheets still warm. Here within are some kisses & hidden messages from the mind of Starshoe. Let your eyes move inarticulate & sencative to the beat of moonlessness & howls of passion that will not be moved.


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