Extrasensory Perfection

The Great Pretender

Extrasensory Perfection

I have seen her by the glow

of ballerina’s on their toes

atop wicks of paraffin

as dancing shadows on her skin

of ochre highlights painting

contours of burnt umber

And I have felt the tremors deep

within her valley to her peaks

metamorph eloquent parlance

into verse she would beg pardoned

for fear it stirs her Grans

eternal slumber

Yes she overloads my senses

like poor flesh against expensive

satin sheets and pillow shams

of woven silk in brillo-ed hands

Thank the gods she loves a man

with ragged edges…

-HymnAgen 

Favorite Color

My favorite color?

That bluish hue

the yellow moon

bathes her

mocha skin in

when it filters

through my

bedroom

window

- HymnAgen

But Yet, So Far

It pains a man

to want

what he can’t have.

To reach

what he can’t grasp.

To smell

what he can’t taste.

To gaze upon a face

that adores him,

but implores him

not to press

the way her memory of him

against her flesh

makes her give in

to errant thoughts

of would have,

should have,

could have beens….

- HymnAgen

Emoceans

When we chat

it’s like the early days

come flooding back

in tidal waves

to drag me

into open seas

of emotions –

adrift

in the ocean breeze

of her familiar voice.

I wade

when we chat

like I did

in those earlier days.

- HymnAgen

Sweetened Coffee

I live to see this.

Your smile is the sweetness

in my bitter coffee days…

That ray of gold that warms my soul

when things don’t go my way…

That flooding light that clears my path,

heat from the Sun in which I bask,

and when accompanied by your laugh…

like cold ice cream in a warm glass…

it melts me.

Just the memory of it

helps me Through my toils and my tasks.

Giving me something meaningful

to run to –

to come home to.

Indeed, I need it

Please, believe this

for your smile is the sweetness

in my bitter coffee days.

-HymnAgen

Daydreaming

That Itch

You know that itch

so deep in your ear

you drop everything 

and search everywhere 

for something long

but gentle enough

to use to scratch it?

And once you get it,

you know how it feels 

so frickin’ good

it gives you that chill

that shakes your head

just before your entire

being relaxes?

That's how good it felt

when you told me

you still love me...

- HymnAgen

When It's Real

When it’s real,

there is no shame

in being claimed.

There’s an appeal

in the staking –

the feel

of being wanted

and needed

permeating

your being…

feeding your security…

Believing

the affection

you’re receiving

with the surety

of holy prophets

in prayer.

No matter the distance,

love always feels

near

under those conditions.

So nothing feels

weird

about being claimed

when

it’s

real.

 <...

Starlight

As does

the sun,

her smile

saves me

from fading

into shadows

like nothingness…

- HymnAgen