Poetry reading... opinions needed!
Tomorrow night (monday) I'm going to a poetry reading and I'm thinking of reading one or two of my own poems out but I'm not sure, depends how how I feel at the time really. But anyway if I do.. I don't really know what to read out. so I'm asking for you guys to help me out. I'll put up the poems so you don't have to search your memories or the site.
The low buzzing of your razor,
roused tingling memories
of Saturday nights.
Steam condensed and cooled,
blurring your reflection,
you turned to look at me
dancing under artificial rainfall.
I pulled tongues, blew kisses
but returned to my ritual,
teasing you with nipples erect
from the gel so provocatively lathered.
Foaming at the mouth
toothbrush teetering on the brink
of stimulated lips,
I leant back on cool tiles
and wowed you with the expertise
I could display with a power shower.
Towel now smeared with white foam
your toes encroached upon my ground
and eyes lingered upon my thighs,
wet, glistening with your anticipation.
I stepped out,
flicked my, no longer, dry hair
and proceeded to rub myself,
fresh towel of course, bending
over to entice and tantalise.
Your penis now in hand,
foam cascading over plains of skin
beaded with sweat and water.
I left you in the shower, still dripping,
still wet. To wait for you,
with a buzzing of my own.
A black man stood in church today
A black man stood in church today,
before a shrine of glass praising white,
in a shirt more colourful than the congregation
he came to love.
His sermon was unconventional,
and more Christian than any I'd heard.
Underneath the doctrine,
the prayers and the songs of praise,
whispers rose, contempt was born.
Twisted within the words
were utterances to make a deaf man blush
and the blind man cry.
Even the pastor
rolled his non-judgemental eyes.
I turned away from the Christians
this pale lit morning.
Sang to my King of Kings and watched
A child dance through the spectral aisle.
I think she, more than any of us
this clear morning, found God.
19th January 2002
three impersonating ice,
wrapped with gold around my finger.
Standing before me, you
admired my newly adorned hand.
I tightened my grip,
"It's too big," I said.
We both looked away, then back
kissing suddenly, held in
raptures of friends cheering.
Fear struck me,
losing my sapphires,
but then you smiled
and showed my diamonds to the world.
They said we were foolish,
Itís too big, It's too much.
Seven stones slipped
from my finger two Septembers later.
It's too big.
or one of my 3 little ditties???
A Girl in Winter.
His lips parted, cracked and dry as he struggled to whisper: "My muse, you're here."
She simply smiled, "Yes, Drake, I am here."