Tag Archives: sex
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Peter Pan Petraeus

13 May

These were sculpted times

Of crafted words and powdered flat screen minds

Heart of finely chiseled plastic and

Chipped off nerve ports hammered shut

All left dulled under the plastered

Polished cyber surface.

—-

Camouflage news holds

Internet addicts hostage

Enlisted into illegal wars

Of bloody conquest, porn, lust and looting

Wars of ego, greed, and opportunity,

A black ski masque and fishnet stockings

An AK47 and Viagra

Adobe enemies – Adobe lovers

—-

U.S. corporate warlords hire

Battalions to drone over

Facebook and Twitter

Afghanistan and Pakistan

Red poppy dust settles on

Chat room dreams of opium

Russian bride delusions

—-

They sat under the moon but

It was censored black

Gazed at the heavens that

Looked like the

Inside wing of a black crow

“The Moon eloped with Mars” they said

And left us under the pronounced

Sun shadows cast over our hearts

These were times of war.

—-

Rain drops in the pools of memory

Amnesiac mud turns the water brackish

Blood, pain, disease, death,  slide under

Radioactive floating Fukushima fish forgotten

The oceans lifeless tides

Poison all it greets

Semen pangs squirt on the screen

Orgasmic masturbation is

Only permitted passion

Emotions deeper than a

Woman’s vagina are feared

Love and war come easy.

—–

Corroded Facebook mega-pixels

Transformed into a wife, lover or friend

Seekers of online intimacy embrace a mirage

Drier than the screen that embodies them

Hollow, desert, cracked, cactus romance

Stickers protrude as oasis dries.

—–

Online fools, wise misers

Hold a $100 for yourself

Don’t waste on a real date!

$40 billion a month to wage a NATO war

Don’t waste on the welfare state!

Hillary and Bernard Henri-Levy decide.

Kill Ghadaffi for his oil, water or golden dinar?

Guidance he asked from the  drunk wild night

Wandered the dark towards a cave in the hills

He threw in a stone to test its dimensions

And cupped his ears from the oracular rumbling voice:

“Fantasy Tragedy all is Trantasy

Same War Different Front”

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Bird’s eye view

9 Feb

SANAANIAN TRACES

Step through the red and green

Stained glassed arched windows

To the sand brushed mud brick blocks

See the white spiral designs dance on its exterior

like an Arab brides painted henna hands.

Hover over the 5thor 6th floor in vertigo

of mans first sky scraper.

——

Through this height, peer down

upon the labyrinth winding narrow streets below

To see women dressed as black crows

Abayas and hijab glide to and fro

Then the extinct Sanaanian red appears

like a lost Cardinal she comes and goes

Black is the color of chastity?

Or the color of the Gulf?

—–

Here man buys a woman for a night or a life time

Give him just your body and damn your life

Better sell your soul to the highest bidder

The 3 S rule applies, keep it: superficial, sweet and sexual.

“Woman’s lib is between her legs and not her ears.” they say

And a female pimp is a “best friend.”

—–

On Thursdays men congregate in their rooms

reserved for the khat, the view and the chew.

The wealthy speak of Al-Qaeda

as their shaking hands reach for the bottle of Shamlan

Discussing the dwindling foreign investment

they ask “is Yemen a failed state?”

Some answer “Is it even a country?” Lost in a dull daze,

the chaos of war, has imposed its absurdity.

Hopeless they chew on their impotency.

—–

Expats enter and conversations in

German, French, and English.

This is expat wasteland: From Australia to the Philippines,

from Spain to Somalia.

From an NGO to the UN, a diplomat or a thief?

Secret agents all indeed.

Helping all but only themselves.

Here an elite back home an unknown

Solipsistic pawns of a governments game,

Another Jack Daniels to soothe the soul

Until their next appointment

Passionate Tradition

27 Jan

PASSIONATE TRADITION


These narrow streets bursting of life

Smother the medieval sounding

Footsteps that roam here.


Hollow steps, echo the remains of

Prohibited passions and eternal longings.

These dark humid alley ways,

Playground for forbidden loves.


A dowry of yearnings and longings

snubbed by her mother

As shattered love drips from the heart.

A load of dusty sentiments,

left to seal the cracks in the street.


She slips through the ancient Roman tunnels and

Byzantine passages to feel his burning kiss.

In the Omayyad citadel he holds her.

They gaze at the horizon, lights far out of reach.

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