In You

How makes you wonder and full,
bringing exalting pressures
like an iced earlobe awaiting to be pierced,
this one is for the poet in you.
Bringing destinies
of melon painted sunrises
to the platform of your soul
and riding that midnight train
all the way back to the poet in you.
Where roses are
the color of flesh
and pain will only be remembered
if you call its cell phone,
talking to the poet in you.
Breaking your fists
through the glass
screaming silence
clichéd philosophies
in the Bohemian
tickle licking poet in you.
Sadness is overplayed
on your Mp3
with a click of an ocean breeze
that will make you cum
like you never did before
with the poet in you.
Sweet senses of convincing rhythms
weighing a conning pro
giving you big-ass hope
of desperate desires
living in the Arden B.
'laadiees' poet in you.
Give me a chalice
with all of your nectar
moving my soul
beyond molecules
and DNA,
give me one word,
one verse,
one prose,
one death,
how I die,
how I cry,
how I enjoy,
how I work hard,
sweating blood,
ripping organs,
just so you notice
that hell hast not
a goddamn thing
for the poet in you.
This is for you,
this is for you,
just gettin' started
for the poet in you.
Jonathan Butler
Sunday, June 11, 2006

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