Saturday, July 24, 2010

~~~Magpie 24~~~Love Remains~~~

No matter if the Olympics were a "has been" affair last week. This week the launching site for a guided missile was abruptly cancelled; S. Kitten was missing.

The only thing fogging was the pinhole camera. Due to the left-over humidity from the wedded bed bliss. Someone had said Love was an Unique Energy field; previously unknown by anyone previously known as an annoying anonymous. The depths of the contours enfolded their bodies' skin against skin contact. Somehow struggling against the sheets that would confine or claim them. Like a Michelangelo sculpture of the prisoners enslaved forever in marble; these immortal soul proved victorious. Once winning the battle of the emphemeral vs the earthen vessel; the material world lost the battler as those embattled souls wrestled for more abundant life. Much was up for grabs, the stakes were high and the tomatoes were tasty.

Recalling the tug on the covers; feet slightly slipping, trying to hold onto something, anything for more than a while. As all these senses percolate, humming silently through these soft dreamworlds. Evocative of touching nubby pompoms, recounting those imprints left over years ago on rough nogahide. Touch being an end-unit; a sensory feeling of being. Thus
making the connection; a collection of contact with the Creator to which all tends to be a culmative thing.

In the heated sparks of the moment that is desire; flown with reckless abandon the flow is released. The last remenants of the captured energy field. Left only one highly energized blue star dormant waiting to pounce. That which had fed the lovers in the background then did hang dismally low on the horizon. Blue Star is ready to explode and catapult us into the next wave of Love energy field. Are you ready? So am I!

The full moon's esoteric energies claiming the remainder of the evening's pleasure.

As left-over static electricity heard the last zap zap in progression slowly diminished by the echo-chamber process. Replaced by those air-cleansing negative ions filters. Their love nest remain as it had appeared on a calmer day when their love had taken all during the last round. And after all was said and done, love always wins and love never dies; it just changes form. So where is that form now? In the centre of the blue star hanging over the lover's bed.

Their bodies, once radiated extreme energies, pumping, grinding, writhing to nothing, bone on bone, made mush or mushy. As soothing into this fold, the cool burgundy silk sheets which made the slip in the fabric of time. Those entwined like contorted prezels in this unusual electromagnetic pulse-like dance of neurons.

A purposefullness in this surrender; this letting-go. Sweet death my Love. Emily's "breathless bees" to forever circle overhead. Overhead at the centre of the Humanity's the next sequence; a sequel to the sequellae or the known universe's re-Creational activity unravelling tale. This heady spin producing heartfelt sighs on the last still night remembered. Recounting all the good times had by all. And heard within listening distance; still manifest upon the vanishing breeze. A hiccup or blip; found at last; the missing gap; it did not matter now.

As the g-men sprayed the g-spot; that special chemical formerly known as Viagara on Niagara; it was the spot for Lovers. And of the stained carpet, a handsome hand-held florescent black-light invisible man showed the exact place on earth where these good times had happened and with regularity like some cosmic clock on the timing when the love rang the door over and over again like a never-ending symphony.

And yes, where all was had until this that came along going this way, through the opening door to arrive at this portal gate it all did seem to accumulate or come about so suddenly, so unknowingly as we like rabbits succumbed to breathlessness; a sigh.

This unknown substance maybe left-over tachyon energy from time immemorial when mother cell first appeared. Now Appearing regularly with much frequency as to admit that after 50 no ones fades away they just dry up and go the way of the dingo. Quite evident now on the pricey berber carpeting. The after-glow; the field of love left on the material world transcended by float plane to the Heavenly realms in the Pleiades. Fait incomplete.

Once so easily dismissed now a missive. Holy and sacred love filled the gaps, the cavities left behind by missing time and spent bodily fluids. These fine residuals of Love remain behind; a will and testiment to the fufilling of dream-centred Love feelings of the entire Universe.

Now released these latent exotic energies accumulate on the peripherial grid. With each coupling reaching a maximal meridian. This flowing velvet night takes us to the farthest reaches of our Love. Let naked mind opens up to our cojoining energies on this rare atmosphere; our forever blogosphere.


Are you an unmade bed? Write about it! A poem, a story; whatever; and MAKE THAT BED!


  1. Steamy and strange! My favorite line? "The full moon's esoteric energies claiming the remainder of the evening's pleasure."

    Re your comment on my blog, I added a little note in the blog footer about the header piece. It's a detail from Romaine Brooks' self portrait, 1923. I connect with it on a certain spiritual level and see much of myself in it. Glad you like it!

  2. Viagara on Niagara? Hah!

    Intriguing train of thought/unmade bed/mental rollercoaster.

  3. ahhh i agree with tumbleworlds. great writing! vey entertaining indeed.