Yours

Like a white orchid
Tender
Budding over my daydreams
I watch your hands
Unfold
Tiny and cold
Until my heart beats
Up my senses
At last

–
Copyright, Yours, Chiaroscuro, Maty Dio, All rights reserved

XYZ

I stare into your eyes whilst you fuck me
and close them when making love to you

I am a twenty-two
loaded with unspoken thoughts
never to explore possibilities
and superfluous passions
wastebasket of unrequited emotions
holomorphic self acceptance and crumpled pain
lecherous concupiscence of ardor and agony
heat and rage

Felucca travelling Meaningfully to home waters
somnambulating through foreign lands and quasi recognizable landscapes

and so I stare into your eyes and watch you fuck me
trying to capture the essence of your attraction to illusive realms
reaching out and fisting the truth and beauty hidden inside of warped dimensions

and I close them when I make love to you
riding the waves
and pretending not to be stolen by chromosomal differences

I stare into your eyes in search of approval, value and validation of simple feelings
that deserve to be left unchallenged

–
Copyright, XYZ, Chiaroscuro, Maty Dio, All rights reserved

Woolgatherer

Be my pillow
Heavy with dreams
You’ll replay my rainbow imagery
Ne plus ultra
And colour them in with your sparklers
Like a Koh-I-Noor
My uncut diamantine
Sleeping over we’ll together
Count ships
One two three four thirty four
And
Hop on
Before the last one floats away with my dream
Don’t be my Valentine
Be mine

–
Copyright, Woolgatherer, Chiaroscuro, Maty Dio, All rights reserved

Virtually Yours

internet is a loneliness supporting widget
breeding ground for assumed identities and
identical assumptions of like minded people
some of whom don’t exist
proffering illusion of variety of
real and virtual friends
who virtually don’t give a shit
but within all that
the gain of some vague sense of togetherness
sticks the knife into your mind
slowly carving out shadows of faith that
someone out there cares
someone out there relates
someone out there connects
even if he/she does not exist
we fight our virtual midnight wars
virtually kiss each other with the cold-screen lipsticks
blinding the real thoughts
freezing the real virtues to frigid virtuality
and post grey responses to read messages
flag the emotions
trash the feelings
between us things change
yet one on one they stew
boil
simmer
bubbling remains of red hot emotions
ripe like the moon hanging above the labyrinth of rooftops
virtually real
and untouchable
cracking the shell of life
reality leaks out like an egg white
transparent
crystalline
clear
urgently perspicuously loving or hating
or both
with an eyelet of the beginning of something new
which may never grow
internet remains behind
sitting in the half shell crackle
thick and yellow
blunt like the pain and doubts
in solitary isolation
all that’s left is yesterday
and the budding hope that miracles of everyday life will
erase the emotional distance
that matters more than the size
and betrayal by a virtual friend
instant ‘vriends’
instant messaging
instant soups
instant hot water
instant chess
instant insurance cover for emotional scars is a welcome
doormat of days to come
days bygone
instant chase of instances
immediacy
decrypt the globalised voyeurism of browsers’ imperative instantaneousness
decrypt me
decrypt you
virtually yours

(c) Virtually Yours, Chiaroscuro, Maty Dio, All rights reserved

Viva

someone beheaded me
it seems
I’ve been sacrificed for the good of the better
I sit on my blue elephant who in his regal robes
waves to the crowds
and my head nods
to the bloodthirsty gods that plead
for the mercy of the mortals
as you
plead for love
so mine
too many heads were lost to the revolution of a desire
and I’ve lost mine to you
my Queen
rabid love growls at your army
and quotes the air of Stoics
while I am all yours
so, wheel in the guillotine
call in those thirsty gods
and offer them your sweetly manna
I’ve lost my head to the sexual revolution
please
bury it in the Valley of the Kings
or
in between your legs
I’ll meet you in the corner of the Sixtynine
you’ll meet me in you
my head will nod
and you will buy a tomb in my pyramid
for your razors
to be sharpened by my moonlight
Do I believe in resurrections?
my dear Chocolate Girl
I am an optimist
my head nods
to my imaginary gods that plead for my mercy
just like you
plead for love
mine

Copyright, Viva, Chiaroscuro, Maty Dio, All Rights Reserved

To You

I brush my thumb against your lips
and taste your pulse
somewhat surprised at your abrupt need
to return to ‘the real life’
Got a light?
You lit me up and walked away
before I saw your dreams
and
just for that nanosecond
wished to be your destiny
Don’t thank for the light and love
My dear Rochelle

Copyright, To You, Chiaroscuro, Maty Dio, All Rights Reserved

Teresa

we won’t be feeding the ducks in the park
like the old lady we saw when you finger-fed me cheese and grapes
two grey haired people with glasses holding hands
that will bypass me one day
won’t be us
and the face next to yours in the train window
accompanying your new moment
won’t me mine
you’ll sit on the riverside bench drawing into your little book
I’ll sit in some desolate café scribbling into mine
the poem about how time turned us into strangers

–
Copyright, Teresa, Chiaroscuro, Maty Dio, All rights reserved

Sanity loss

I’m a blue monkey sitting on the tree
You’re a pink banana staring at me
Let me try your sweetness
Let me taste your zing
You’re a pink banana
With an edgy sting

Copyright, Sanity Loss, Chiaroscuro, Maty Dio, All Rights Reserved

Then came the light

The day has been eaten
morning

midday

and afternoon

sliced up and drank in the chicken consumè
on the corner of the Chinese take-away
while mutilated evening cried open wounds
of crippled truth and yellow lies

Papers had said it all
and poked the finger
into the excrement
draped warm in the second-hand fur coat
begging on church steps
asking for fiver, love, truth
and sanity

Evening was left to suffer
and sitting on my garden stairs
stuck out its tongue at me
and tried to caress me with someone else’s hand
while I waited for you to call in
and say
You’re sorry

Copyright, Then came the light, Chiaroscuro, Maty Dio, All Rights Reserved

Then I’ll turn better

the agony of ordinary days
swing swing swinging
time
I’ll throw our wistful bottle
in the ocean
and hide away inside you
next
crucify all memories
Hosana… Hosana
you will be my dernière
.

Copyright, Then I’ll turn better, Chiaroscuro, Maty Dio, All Rights Reserved