Everything after midnight 

Friday after midnight 
I anticipated outright 
With you, I could bet 
Its never set

Burning rage 
Flaming groins 
Impelling passions 
I wake feeling almost oblivious of who I am 

The nudist in me, naked 
With traces of pre-cum 
Or was it cum?
Tattooed on my thighs
Wondering how intense sex was last night 

As you flipped me like a doll
Positions leading the rhythm 
Stop! I mutter
It gets wilder 
It’s raging 
We flutter 

Our bodies warm
As my breasts stroke your deadbeat chest
My pussy leaking uncontrollably 
Your cock on fuck
My walls shaken by the thrusts 
By hand 
Your words of pleasure 
‘Oh shit’ as they echo quietly 
With deep insertions of penetrating jazz. 

It was 4.24
We staggered in drunk
Tongues and tongue 
Speaking in tongues 
My legs wrapped long around you
Almost in-prisoned by my want.

This sexual fuck
This cock as fuck
This fuck of all fucks
You, fuck!
Fuck, stop!
This epic fuck

A clumsiness of besieged orgasms 
We speak that common language 
A subdue of the climaxes To sustain ‘the’ climax
This depiction of mutual
To sustain the funnel of pleasure 

It’s kinda cliche’ 
Just do it
Because it’s horny as fuck
Because we had one, too many drinks
Can you explain this denial 
Sustain this inhibitions?

A derail of broken chemistry 
Restored from ‘feelings’ to fuck
You are officially my best fuck!
The door opens and shuts.
I am left with content
And the residue of your warmth 
After glow, under my white sheets.


Saturday morning, I whip up the pancakes and some fresh coffee 
While in lieu of my next orgasm…

Crazy eye’s rant

With shea butter, I gently massaged my boobs
My bum cheeks
We need these boobs firm and perky as they have always been
I loved how he knelt behind me, unhooked my bra and fondled them laying on my belle
Earth on my face
I toss my socks of lace
Cocoa butter oil could have been relevant on the cheeks
The mixture of aloe vera and coconut oil on my hair
I look hot as fresh cayenne pepper 🙂
June, you are the love of my life, I admire me and nada
All my oils supplies come homemade from mummy
I choose to stay as natural as she makes them
I anticipate if I have always been his prototype
Do I sense happenings?
Do you ever think that one man destined to be a part of another woman’s world could fit another woman in, and another woman?
Fucking ejections
Is this a result of an imbalance I have created
Was I blind to understand the sense of volatility
Do it the right time the first time so you dont have to do it again
These birds flying in unison as I look up, are they borne out of imaginations?
What silly game am I playing
Who raised me?
Turn the music down
Listen, hush
My eyebrows are bushy
The sources where I seek happiness is a fucking market place
Is my life built on the foundations of a fucking shopping list
He knew what he wanted
I didn’t seek that, I found it later
Cease these complications herewith
Jon B says “They dont know about this here”
They dont know, they know, they know, know, no?
Aha, I see the limitations of the 5 senses
Man only sees the reality he wants to see, feel, hear, taste, smell
I smell shea butter
Its a confusing smell with a combination of these oils
Saved by the bell (no, ah my insanity)
Is there an underlying non-committal feature which possess me?
I actually need some protein with cayenne pepper
Lower back subjects me to a still position
I wonder what my astrological combinations say
Upholsteries could have been my forte
No clichés
No cliques
No conformists
No cunts
Give me my glass of Château Duluc du Brainaire
Crazy woman!

I did!

If I dare say, it was the loneliest of times, the best of times, the worse of age, the best of laugh, a situation of choice, a step closer to my haven.
My deadpan heart
I embraced it all
We glanced at jealousy 
At paranoia, an ugly picture of an improbable fate.  
I begged them 
Please keep your claws off my man
My recollections of about a century of weeks ago where I walked into the store of greatness and I found him in the isle of cream and luxury 
Shades of light 
I picked him up
He was heavy as I had him sit in the bags of my burdens
He weighed so much in qualities and yes I paid for what had become my (his) excess baggage
With an existing burden of proof 
I trolled on
To get to my destination 
That one where I wrote about finishing and finding ‘perfect’ was such an imperfect move 
I can’t even wait to see my own destiny 
The world watches with eagerness as their hearts stop for a second when they sense I am a step closer 
One seed of hope 
My teething phases leap to the bed of the sea of my heart 
The waves of love more resounding than ever 
The one I dream of 
Ever there in a generation of years 
Leeching in his own shadows 
Waiting for what I know nothing of His heart on an edge of a steep hill
Because I/he knows what we are both capable of
Yet we stay
Yet we love
Yet we breathe 
Cheek to cheek
His whisper only brings me close to a potential bridge of a firmed conclusion 
Time, only, only time will tell us where we head thus far 
As Shakespeare eluded to
Perhaps I am his be-all and end-all 
And so he be to me.

One Gallery of my Imagination

My obscure object of desire fades
As my Taxi approaches Heathrow T5
The signs I see are only the edifices I leave just before I acquire air mileage
Yesterday I told you, you could be a world just born in mine 
With my initials signed and two xx’s
This one whom my knees are roughed to possess
One I long to kiss from a rose 
Whilst I imagine his lady’s potential doom 
To one possibility of having my best Summer’s most Mahican flowers on full bloom 
I am enchanted 
I find this Irish soul appliquéd, embroidered and embellished on this season’s own diatribes
My heart supplies doses of a future path
And whilst I day dream 
I feel even more fulfilled 
With little to muster 
I posses unkind thoughts 
I posses daft imaginations 
My sexual fantasies of him diffuse me
My convictions are senseless
But I lean against the wall
With my head bowed
Of what I think I know 
Him, the man who is about 6ft 3
Grey haired but beautifully semetrical as George Clooney
An accent unplaceable
A demeanor of substance  
A beaut soul 
Of which Gravity has made my bloody soul attracted 
Is the one I besiege 
I will always be June
And one predominant feature is to write this
I like him and whether fate has other plans 
This was love at first sight 
A soul mate attraction is what this process has made be
I choose him
His intimacy
A revelation of his truth 
To tear down his walls 
A coming together of souls 

She Calls Hers Ramblings

I rattle
Not simply because I long for a battle
The thought of you and everyone made like you
Reminds me of the pus from the fungus
That grows in a pond like the scum of the earth
In my guilt
And your filth
Is your name
And my shame
My heart opened deep
As an earthquake swallows
Shook as its magnitude
I see you as the tattered tapestry
Owned by my exiled ancestry
Who made you?
Why flatter red roses
When you heart and lips poses
Gushing my disgust in small doses
Ultimately I admitted
To swallow the painful look smug
I am drawn blank
At you so skank
All these insane time spent
Keeping my beating organ non ardent
My fingers can no longer count
But as I live a day
As much as I enjoyed those scallops
This was a thread of gallops
And as I face reality
This one moment I have so prayed for
I would muster as much as I can
Without fears nor tears
Of how an uncertainty turns ugly
With my rough knees bended
I besiege heavens for a heart amended
I refute one conviction
One that tells me I cant have that “stone”
Cause I see the blend with my heart tone
But of how much joys and sincerity
The answer remains
I would one day behold
An utter happy heart of silent tears…


Alarm sounds twice only by a minute
Eyes wide shut
Body rising
Setting off
Voice at Bethnal Green Station
Drives me mad with laughter
My incessant crave for coffee and muffins
Password logins
Same TV series on Channel 4
Constant meet with the lady at the bus stop
Mum’s call goes on voicemail
Never see cash in my wallet
Triple occurrence of entries while hovering
I trip at the same spot

Cell phone rings from my object of affection
Everything I do on the PC
He mentions exact same thing as another
Thoughts battle
As ambitions rattle
Modifications of a routine
Daily conscious experiences
Or interpretations of repetitive occurrences
I have already seen all these to last me a lifetime
I am not deluded
It’s not illusory
What do I call them?

Dejavu media

Dejavu thoughts
Dejavu triggered sights
Dejavu occurrences
Dejavu mornings
Compelled to say
As my senses seemingly think
Routine and dejavu
Could be just a definition
Quite similar by the skin of my teeth
I know its an explicit familiarity
One of unending weird occurrences
All as a result of routinely habits
And a regression of my supposed psyche
And I kissed my teeth


Look at my thumbnails
See the sea gulls
I have an aquarium of beauty
They have an affinity of reasons
I love these dynamics
Spell out those names
They hate the winters cold and dark nights
I recognise a season of love
Heart and pulse races
In my nudity and thoroughness
For my episodes and presentations
My judge cannot protect me
They throw spasms of reluctance
Absurdity surrounds birth
Music, she says must continue
I hold my charm bracelet
I watched the doctor spank the newly born baby
Grandfather clock rings from its profile
Time definitely of the essence
Lights and accessories in contrasts
Blasphemies in his heart of hearts
In actuality our lives flash in our eyes
She could dwell in eternity on her soft Moroccan sheets
My dialect of interpretations was his
Out of reach was immediate thought
In photography and graphic
Art transits images
I hated the silence
Hissed for a kiss
Which of them was the chosen
My hands play the piano hysterically and lyrically
Spontaneity and versatility described him
The realist
The pianist
A birth
Beauty of my aquariums
The punning
Was all a random collection of my me time

Florida’s Waters

It’s Sunday morning
Dreamt of my walks on the silk beach sands of Neptune
I wake up at Eleven
A picture of my footsteps on these sands seem uneven
Looking on
Wondering what’s at the other end of these waters
An instant recollection of one of my fave tracks by Stone Mecca ‘A walk’
I love that song
My sense of admiration of this place had almost had enough
Wishing I had my iPod
I hum the chorus almost loud in my head
A little smile at myself as I snap my fingers to the unsung rhythm
He gazes at me from a long distance across the shore
I look up feeling the rays of sun hit my face
I realise the depths of my my dips
The soothing warmth of these waters
I am wet from calves to feet
A moment of distraction from my bliss of peace
I only hear the waves and his thoughts
It’s quiet, calm, beautiful
The skies almost in hues of color between gold and blue
As if in anticipated clarity
We both walk in parallel directions towards the wooden beach house
I feel a moment of epiphany
Seated next to each other on the derelict steps of the porch
We hold hands
He takes my beach wicker hat off and puts it on
I smile at him
He winks
Oh my little heart sinks
We watch the waves go
The sun set
The skies camouflage
He lifts my feet
Dusts the residue of white sands off
Puts my sandals back on
We walk back south
Down the path through the shack
Drove Upstate
Into a happy place
One filled with people such as us
A little whisper and smile again within
Embellished in the pages of my heart’s diaries
I engraved:
“I loved this escape
All I needed was to be here forever”
He gave me the picture
I colored a 1000 words

At London’s El Street

I smiled
Shook my head
My air full of happiness
Sat the exact spot on the tube
Where an exchange was graced to a well smooth cube
In endurance, Like dejavu
Gazing back into time
A day before Friday
Thinking behind my head
Smiling before my heart
As realism slaps my face off delusion
But still spot a sparkle

People in their work wear turn their heads
Towards that spot
As I pinged this little piece
On my little keys
Heading to meet precisely the same subject
Heading from when we met
For the same purposes
As I chuckled
Well almost
I wonder at 3:55pm somewhere at L. St
Where the world throws him
While I sketch that chart
Of where I think he be
Or where I glide

My eyes look up
As to be conscious of not been oblivious
A little girl with her dad smiles at me
I smile at her
Dropping my head towards this
Imaging how I walked into his space from the station
With my hair wrapped like a dame from the 70’s
On a typical July summer
Frustrated at the stale smell of sweaty bodies
And the cramped carriage
Coupled with inclinations of fatigue

Yet he is a different space
And maybe a focused pace
Identified as such a lace
Not even
He stares at me silently
He speaks to me
In uncertainties
I smiled but inclined
Not understanding where
But knowing we float about a meadow
And truly in no trance
Was a delicacy of chance

It became as real as the world could be
As unpredictable as having four seasons in a week
What do we feel in our hearts
My emotions as a clock ticks
I wish to hold on something new as this
Gently kiss your insides
As I remain shut in your arms
My world will change
I pray this beauty never dwindles…