Sunday, May 29, 2011

Quotes Of The Me

"Just felt my Heart tap against my chest, I guess it was just reminding me that it's in me."

Saturday, May 28, 2011

Pink Sugar

....So a while back, actually a time ago, I had the pleasure of smelling this sweet fragrance on the person of this really gorgeous and fashioned forward Woman as She darted by me in the terminal of Lambert. Her style was a cross between those Asian Women who aren't from the states, but who come to the states to do all their shopping, and a New York, Sex In The City-freak for fashion kind of Chic. In a rush, I assume, to catch a plane that She was tardy for, the breeze from Her speed allowed me to catch a whiff of Her potent scent. Faster than the Road Runner, before I knew it She was gone. And although She was no longer visible I could still sniff Her, She had marked the entire territory of my air. That scent stuck with me and years later I finally discovered its origin. One day last week, I was window shopping in the mall when I decided to step in Sephora to see if they carried a cologne that I had run out of and wanted to replace. And as I approached the counter to question the associate, my nose's memory instantly remembered and caught the scent, like a bloodhound chasing a crime. And In a hyper panic I asked, "Hey what's that I smell?" The gothy looking associate looked at me with one of those "are you frickin kidding me frown" Then said, "There are a million smells in here, which one?" I replied, "The one that was just sprayed." Now, just like it left it's potent impression on me years before, could it be that it wasn't just sprayed and was just that strong that it overwhelmed the store like it did me? Well, before I could even continue to doubt the moment anymore, from below the counter in Her black, laced gloved hand it was, "Pink Sugar." I smiled glad, like I found lost treasure. Just wished I had a worthy Woman who could wear it, so I could permission the associate to, "Just throw it in the bag."

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

It's Morning

It's morning and the sun is on his side. A place he dreams She'll one day occupy, by his side, fugitives for Love, shackled tight for the rest of their lives. He knuckles the coldness of past hurt from the corners of his eyes, where the tears once jumped down his cheeks committing a watery suicide, so that he can clearly see the promise between the parallels of their lives. He stretches his arms high, lightly scratching God's feet with the tips of his  nails, playfully thanking He or She for blessing Her with he. Now that wasn't a vain line, but like the two of them, it just rhymed, a perfect fit, like when they connect power lines, their bond is "electric!!" Yawning Her name as the blinds part wide, blaring a halo of light thru the window pane, She's the first sentence formulated when he awakes because She's the first thought on his brain so what else is there to say? But he wonders, will She age with him, like a fine Cab Sauvignon or will She just come and leave prematurely, like a teen making Love for the very first time, coming way to fast out the gate, like a pony in a race? It's morning and the sun is on his side........

Monday, May 23, 2011

She's Not A Riddle, But Is Her Love?

Upon Her emotions is where he wants to sit, resting heavy, like bullion bricks on paper fences. Blessed with a knack for attracting a bunch of Hungry Jacks because of how fluffy Her cakes are stacked, he reacts and attacks the opposite of Mack's. Always pressed with being his own kind of chef, uniquely weird, but with an old fashioned, compassionate taste for the sweeter things in life, and judging by Her flavor he knows that there's more to Her dish than just being hot. She has a Heart as big as that London clock and it chimes Love loud when Her little hand strikes twelve with his big hand. Rotating an earth size of feelings, strummed between their strings sing a pretty tune, like a ballerina music box. A sweet harmony that's candy to his ears, tasty, so he keeps craving for more. There's something in the cards so he wants to play the hand. Wedding band, boyfriend or bestfriend? Or could all three be in the plans? 
Questions and answers are soulmates, so together he hopes they guide him the right way.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Happy Mother's Day Miss Paris

....So from your Passion for fashion, unbiased and forever support, delicious sardine tacos, extreme cleanliness, tough, but Loving words of wisdom, sensitive and hard character, to your Midwest hustle and daily reminder of, "You're going to miss me when I'm gone."  Well, "You were right!!"

"Happy Mother's Day Mom"

Monday, May 2, 2011

Beep!! Beep!! Beep!! Beep!!.........."Please try your connection again"

The Stars used to dance like they had scarecrow legs, now they just stand against a stone wall motionless, like Women in high heels who complain their feet hurt. The sound of Her cute little Girl voice used to sparkle in his sky, like the 4th of July, now it just echoes between his ears, silent, like sign language kids. But far from a little Girl, She always kept his stick in high gear. Her grown Woman curves were perfectly perfect for his lust for speed, so he couldn't resist pushing Her limits. Heavy on the gas, the thrill of Her Pleasure was addictive. He became a junky for Her crack, and forced to go cold turkey only made him more of a junky with no real chance of rehab, desperately feigning for Her, like straight men willing to gender bend just to get a hit. It would take Rome in reverse to de-construct his desire for Her. She's the blueprint and bricks for the construction of his paradise. But in a cold hole he rests now, isolated from Her life, he sits and wonders what crime he committed. 

And as he glances at his gentle palms he sees no blood on his hands. The glove doesn't fit so he wonders, "What did I do to deserve this sentence of being disconnected?" Disconnected from a connection that made him feel electrically connected. Plump jolly Hearts once marched around his head, like toy soldiers, now they just sit in corners in a slump, like defeated veterans with no pension of attention. It's connection rejection, but how do you reconnect or can you? What are the steps of preparation for this delicious dish if the recipe was never written?

Sunday, May 1, 2011