POETRY - HEARTS ACHE

Hearts Ache

because you can't cut out the

pain of another's heart...

I've never attended a

Bitchelor Party in my life;

I guess that's obvious.

My daddy told me once

nice people get walked on...

hell! I think someone is

actually wiping their dirty feet on me!

Anyway, I would have hung myself

From my shower curtain before—

Okay, let me say this:

I'd rather lay a bet on

Charlie Sheen leading a

Sunday School class

than wager attendees at such a

soiree would be up to any good.

What?

Sarcastic? Irreverent?

Me?

Surely you do not expect me to

surpass my capacity for responsibility,

a responsibility that is to myself first

and to my loved ones second...

maybe there's no responsibility to the second.

Let me cut off this sleeve because

this is not about me but

those whose hearts have a hole

smack dab in the center and who

find enjoyment...laughter...

at the expense of others—

talking about and laughing at

a person behind her / his back

while everywhere love is breathing

heavily like a draft at their doors.

Agony grows up like a cancer

from their hearts to their brains

and the wearers throw out daggers

to arrest the victim with

their disease of aching hearts.

Honestly, don't you just

want to give them your best

Nanny-Nanny-Boo-Boo face?

Childish? Okay, but I certainly

feel their childish actions

deserve equal immature reactions.

©Mimi Wolske, March 2014

All Rights Reserved

Intellectual Property Rights:© 1999 – 2014 Mimi Wolske/Mona Arizona™. All rights reserved.

You may contact me concerning permissions via email. This copyright notice overrides, negates, and renders void any alleged copyright or license claimed by any person or entity, specifically including but not limited to any claim of right or license by any individual, group of individuals, companies and corporations, or web hosting service, except when I have transferred such rights with a signed writing that complies with the requirements for transferring the entire copyright as specified in Title 17 of the United States Code. This includes, but is not limited to, translation or other creation of derivative works, use in advertising or other publicity materials without prior authorization in writing, or any other non-private use that falls outside the fair use exception specified in Title 17 of the United States Code.

If you have any question about whether commercial use, publicity or advertising use, or republication in any form satisfies this notice, it probably does not. Violations of intellectual property rights will be dealt with swiftly using appropriate process of law, probably including a note to your mother telling her that you’re a thief.

POETRY - EROTIC: Dancing, Just Before The Storm Breaks,

Dancing, Just Before The Storm Breaks,

With you in that special

pinkish-grey quality of light

where patches of bright,

cool light cut through

darker, muddier illumination,

the aroma of the coming rain

hangs lightly like a mist

in the air, I anticipate

the first clap of thunder.

Lightning becomes our only

electricity, candles

our only light soliciting

us to continue the tango.

Wax melts, wicks tender

flickering flames with massive

achromatic chords as our

stuttering melody proceeds

not by slow layers but

expressive, successive, rapid

notes like fingers that seem to be

Saying, or writing something

Halfway down our spines.

Delicious tension increases

sweeping the clouds aside

so that soft place between

dancing scrotum and anus

where you linger in what

seems like the ancient

entranceway sealed over

by time permits no release

until the storm subsides

as if a switch was thrown

and the frantic fugato rhythms

Slow to a steady rise and fall.

Everything is liquid and

aromatic—yes, you can smell

again—and you are gripped

at the root by those powerful

contracting pulses...more felt than

seen or heard yet echoes in

plangent cadences from

dissipating clouds above.

Acquiring textures of

luminous clarity, you appreciate

I can take you to the brink

again and again, your entire

focus surges toward the end of

your throbbing organ and the

storm's tremendous pressure

reaches your head and chest and

you can hear a fast-approaching

climax of whooping horns ready

to blow. You stiffen. The air tightens.

The tornadic winds and 

torrential are unleashed.

©Mimi Wolske, March 2014

All Rights Reserved 

Intellectual Property Rights:© 1999 – 2014 Mimi Wolske/Mona Arizona™. All rights reserved.

You may contact me concerning permissions via email. This copyright notice overrides, negates, and renders void any alleged copyright or license claimed by any pers on or entity, specifically including but not limited to any claim of right or license by any individual, group of individuals, companies and corporations, or web hosting service, except when I have transferred such rights with a signed writing that complies with the requirements for transferring the entire copyright as specified in Title 17 of the United States Code. This includes, but is not limited to, translation or other creation of derivative works, use in advertising or other publicity materials without prior authorization in writing, or any other non-private use that falls outside the fair use exception specified in Title 17 of the United States Code.

If you have any question about whether commercial use, publicity or advertising use, or republication in any form satisfies this notice, it probably does not. Violations of intellectual property rights will be dealt with swiftly using appropriate process of law, probably including a note to your mother telling her that you’re a thief.

POETRY - EROTIC / ROMANTIC: PAINTING YOU

Painting You

Would be more fun if you were lying naked on a

Chaise and not from a photograph or my memory, or

Of you pulling into my garage and turning off the key,

Of you sitting across from me at the table as we have a staring contest,

Of you prone on my bed making those groans as I massage your back,

Of you looking down at me while I'm moaning on my back.

Watching you lounging on that small bed at the lake

And being happy and at peace, I want to kiss you. so

I can absorb more of the feeling of contentment you exude. I

Suddenly wonder why in the world we can't stay.

There are no paintings hanging on the walls, but that's okay;

I'd rather look at you than any portrait in the whole world.

Surprising is the blue-and-white striped nautical

Feeling from the couch and the bookcase of unread

Words that acted as voyeurs as you bent me over the

Back of that cottage sofa before we even unpacked.

As often as the temperatures of Spring change,

We drift back and forth between the freezing

North and the heat of the south looking

At each other through our spectacles of love.

©Mimi Wolske, March 2014

All Rights Reserved

Intellectual Property Rights:© 1999 – 2014 Mimi Wolske/Mona Arizona™. All rights reserved.

You may contact me concerning permissions via email. This copyright notice overrides, negates, and renders void any alleged copyright or license claimed by any pers on or entity, specifically including but not limited to any claim of right or license by any individual, group of individuals, companies and corporations, or web hosting service, except when I have transferred such rights with a signed writing that complies with the requirements for transferring the entire copyright as specified in Title 17 of the United States Code. This includes, but is not limited to, translation or other creation of derivative works, use in advertising or other publicity materials without prior authorization in writing, or any other non-private use that falls outside the fair use exception specified in Title 17 of the United States Code.

If you have any question about whether commercial use, publicity or advertising use, or republication in any form satisfies this notice, it probably does not. Violations of intellectual property rights will be dealt with swiftly using appropriate process of law, probably including a note to your mother telling her that you’re a thief.

POETRY - EROTIC: Spiked Heels and Cowboy Boots

Spiked Heels and Cowboy Boots

©Mona Arizona, March 2014

All Rights Reserved

We go the distance;

A ride that takes us

From front to front to

Time and places switched,

Pussy teasing wag.

I was the wearer

Of the cowboy boots

The first time we met.

Now I'm bound in spikes

And you wear the boots.

We close the distance—

Wisecrack of our joy

Butted against the

Naked truth of lust—

Not fully exposed

To the road's voyeurs.

Intellectual Property Rights: © 1999 – 2014 Mimi Wolske/Mona Arizona™. All rights reserved.

You may contact me concerning permissions via email. This copyright notice overrides, negates, and renders void any alleged copyright or license claimed by any person or entity, specifically including but not limited to any claim of right or license by any individual, group of individuals, companies and corporations, or web hosting service, except when I have transferred such rights with a signed writing that complies with the requirements for transferring the entire copyright as specified in Title 17 of the United States Code. This includes, but is not limited to, translation or other creation of derivative works, use in advertising or other publicity materials without prior authorization in writing, or any other non-private use that falls outside the fair use exception specified in Title 17 of the United States Code.

If you have any question about whether commercial use, publicity or advertising use, or republication in any form satisfies this notice, it probably does not. Violations of intellectual property rights will be dealt with swiftly using appropriate process of law, probably including a note to your mother telling her that you’re a thie

POETRY - EROTIC: No Multicolored Crepe-Paper Streamers Fluttering Below Air-Conditioner Vents

No Multicolored Crepe-Paper Streamers Fluttering Below Air-Conditioner Vents

©Mona Arizona, March 2014

All Rights Reserved

  

You like me for my pole dances

And the way I fit on your lap...

The way you brush against my peaks.

Well, I sleep beneath trees, don't I?

Our day fumbles toward darkness.

Glamorously amorous, we

Don't wait for the long exposure

That will become an erotic

blur of wrestlers on ruffled sheets.

You're Eros fingering the rose,

A god with wild netherworld lust

That stirs a fire in the wetness.

I'm a temple of love waiting

For you, my octopus lover,

Wanting you to go down like the

God Cupid when he took Leda.

Intellectual Property Rights: © 1999 – 2014 Mimi Wolske/Mona Arizona™. All rights reserved.

You may contact me concerning permissions via email. This copyright notice overrides, negates, and renders void any alleged copyright or license claimed by any person or entity, specifically including but not limited to any claim of right or license by any individual, group of individuals, companies and corporations, or web hosting service, except when I have transferred such rights with a signed writing that complies with the requirements for transferring the entire copyright as specified in Title 17 of the United States Code. This includes, but is not limited to, translation or other creation of derivative works, use in advertising or other publicity materials without prior authorization in writing, or any other non-private use that falls outside the fair use exception specified in Title 17 of the United States Code.

If you have any question about whether commercial use, publicity or advertising use, or republication in any form satisfies this notice, it probably does not. Violations of intellectual property rights will be dealt with swiftly using appropriate process of law, probably including a note to your mother telling her that you’re a thief.

POETRY - ROMANTIC: WOVEN INTO MY HEART

Woven Into My Heart

©Mimi Wolske, March 2014

All Rights Reserved

  

All's fair in love and war?

Then why does love hurt

sometimes?

Why is it then that you

Always hurt the one

you love?

Why do storm clouds threaten

Snuff the candle of love

too soon?

Softer lights, softer nights

Can soothe the heartbroken soul's

ballet.

How can I want to be

Whole when he feels hollow,

alone?

He doesn't know that he's

The friend woven into

my heart,

That he is the whisper

Of our past, yesterday's

photos,

He is the important

Joy, my shoreline that makes

nights warm,

He makes love beautiful.

Piece by piece I am bound

to him,

To his laugh, insanity,

strength, his independence,

his peace.

Love hurts when he's not here,

But, I give willingly

to him

Every grain of sand

That I am, I will be

I'm his.

Intellectual Property Rights: © 1999 – 2014 Mimi Wolske/Mona Arizona™. All rights reserved.

You may contact me concerning permissions via email. This copyright notice overrides, negates, and renders void any alleged copyright or license claimed by any person or entity, specifically including but not limited to any claim of right or license by any individual, group of individuals, companies and corporations, or web hosting service, except when I have transferred such rights with a signed writing that complies with the requirements for transferring the entire copyright as specified in Title 17 of the United States Code. This includes, but is not limited to, translation or other creation of derivative works, use in advertising or other publicity materials without prior authorization in writing, or any other non-private use that falls outside the fair use exception specified in Title 17 of the United States Code.

If you have any question about whether commercial use, publicity or advertising use, or republication in any form satisfies this notice, it probably does not. Violations of intellectual property rights will be dealt with swiftly using appropriate process of law, probably including a note to your mother telling her that you’re a thief.