Ten Minutes in the Solar System

[Lightning Rod]

I am mocking you for letting it come out the ends. Then the sky or the snow will fall. My seed is hot as Mercury. It skates on the rim of the Sun. When Mercury is in perihedron, non-dancing feet get blisters. My joint is blunt and wet. Pull on my orbit, like a dark planet hidden in my eclipse. Jupiter is made of gas. Gravity has no wings. Blunt and wet as my member in your dark recesses. My seed skates on your face like Mercury skating on the heliosphere. Even for ten minutes. It’s the chill factor and the risk factor. Your reefers are too twisted. Let me roll.
The sky poises itself in grey for snow, and if I tease you about your joints or your experience or your non-experience you will take it personally either way Hot and molten as new life and rememberance. One orbit; one seed; ten minutes. It’s a night for exercises. The fingers of the aloe reach upward. Inside of you—slippery as a gel. Your clit is like a minnow swimming upstream into the net of my ideas. It is firm and wiggles and lives in wettness-- a tadpole in arousal.
So if you number your loves by the planets
I am a comet quite outside your system
Jupiter is made of gas. Gravity has no wings.
Leaden This is an exercise round and round.
Ten minutes. In ten minutes buildings can tumble down. A world can be born in ten minutes—a child conceived. Titanic can go to the bottom. In ten minutes universes can turn and I am not a planet. Perhaps a particle yet undiscovered
Smaller than a quark and elusive. Mathematical as Bach
Whimsical as Mozart. Bombastic as Beethoven or Wagner.
Ten minutes. The comet’s ice is slung
We of gas. Gravity has no wings.
Leaden as Neptune. The comet’s ice is slung
We only imagine it’s period is predictable.
If you touch me an exercise to limber up on literature’s soft head. Onion soup is good for a night like this cheese on top and very hot. You pick the bottom. In ten minutes universes can turn and theories can be born. In ten minutes houses can burn and in ten minutes things that took years to build can go to rubble. In ten minutes history with fingers cold as death. Fishing for minnows and christmas carols my pall mall drops ash on my finger is made of gas. Gravity has no wings.
Leaden as Neptune. The comet’s ice is slung
We on the keyboard and still the minnows flee in wet desperation like an exercise an exercise to limber up on literature’s soft head. Onion soup is good for a night like this cheese on top and very hot. You pick your way through Brahms and I remember what your fingers can do. slippery as a gel. Your clit. It’s a night like this cheese on top personally either way and think I am mocking you for letting it come out the ends. Jupiter is made of gas. Gravity has no wings. Then the sky or the snow will fall. My seed is hot as Mercury. It skates on the rim of the Sun. When Mercury is in perihedron, non-dancing feet get blisters. My joint very hot. You pick your way through Brahms and I remember what your fingers can do. A world can be born in ten minutes—a child conceived. Titanic can go to the bottom. Gravity has no wings.
Leaden as Neptune. The comet’s ice is slung. My seed skates on your face like Mercury skating on the heliosphere. Hot and molten as new life and rememberance. One orbit; one seed; ten minutes. It’s a night for exercises. The fingers of the aloe reach upward. Inside of you—slippery as a gel. Your clit is like a minnow swimming upstream
an exercise round and round.conceived. In ten minutes buildings can tumble down or the Titanic can go to the bottom. In ten minutes universes can turn and theories can be born. In ten minutes houses can burn and in ten minutes things that took years to build can go to rubble. Jupiter is made of gas. Gravity has no wings. In ten minutes history can take a new color and in ten minutes we can find courage or crumble in fear. In ten minutes love can be discovered or dropped like a plate. Ten minutes for consummation or holocaust. I’ll wait ten minutes for you.
The lioness. Which brings us back to the cat pressing his nose to the glass. It’s too cold outside. Even for ten minutes. It’s the chill factor and the risk factor. A world can be born in ten minutes—a child conceived. Titanic can go to the bottom. Your reefers are too twisted. Let me roll.
The sky poises itself in grey for snow, and if I tease you about your joints or your experience or your non-experience you will take it personally either way and think I am mocking you

[Arcadia]

interesting poetic prosa!!
you´re inspirado, friend!!!

[Lightning Rod]

Thank you, Arcadia


I know I'm inspirado
but I'm also perezoso
that's why I'm a desperado

(you must excuse my doggerel, it's a holiday)

[judih]

the way i heard it
you have to dance till you're drooling and ugly
dancing the dance
writing the gut
searing the page

solar system needs it

[Lightning Rod]

the way i heard it
you have to dance till you're drooling and ugly
dancing the dance
writing the gut
searing the page

solar system needs it

you heard it wrong judih
I have to be drooling and ugly
BEFORE I dance
(course the ugly part is no problem)

[mousey1]

You couldn't get lucky eh? Too bad! But at least you got a fabulous poignant poem out of it!

[stilltrucking]

I like this one clay.

Liked it a lot

[mnaz]

Let me roll

Yes.

[YABYUM]

thanks...