The kismet girls listen too well
So much more, than a night on the water
His undulating voice was no mistake, rather a warning
Serenading strangers in streets
Swedish nightclubs under a wet April evening
Neon tarnished by years of piss and alcohol
Talking with lips, swinging hips
Messages seen and not heard
men who think they are right
Ought to open their check books
With the freedom and posession
they believe they have on bodies
Feminine flesh is timeless
Portrayed in art before there was a word for creation
I hate to see late greats bastardized, placed on puzzles in giftshops
The problem is confusing, consequences misleading
When I open a Stella and all I smell is marijuana
The moody Berlin restaurant with the dark marble tables
How bad I wished to take you there
About the Creator
Sammy Huntley
impulsive poetry, original artwork, occasional fiction, and musings for an eccentric lifestyle
IG @neonpioneer
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Affection and Healing for Yourself
During the night of the last quarter moon, I gathered my ritual supplies. I carefully handled the chunk of black tourmaline that would protect me from your overall negative and narcissistic energy. I carefully walked the house with my stick of selenite in hand, asking the universe to cleanse our working space.
By Alisha Wilkins ✒️🦋🖋️6 days ago in Fiction
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