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Array
(
[sid] => 31896
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Intimate Affair
[time] => 2004-01-16 22:19:50
[hometext] => This is my first work of epic poetry please enjoy
[bodytext] => An Intimate Affair Visualize darkness surround a crowded underground abandoned factory. On line stand a rhapsody of Brittney Spear clone women, survivor’s finest beasts, & urban life men flashing off Kenneth Cole’s latest fashion trends. All in awe as the doors are pried open allowing the mists mixed in hypnotic bliss rapture the souls of the fountain youths. The muse of eternity realms a reality on the dance floor, paved in crystal specs with marble flecks and boot skid checks. Idolize the beat reflex, the treble progress and the bass digests. Into sounds that manifest a ricochet off cemented walls echoing in scuffled halls and crashing into sniffling snorts in bathroom stalls. Last calls scream intoxication at a circular bowl bar: packed with rhinestone mints, vodka glass tints and packaged condiments. Tonight’s judgments thrive in black bodied suits preparing for funeral reservations. Half-naked temptations urge your loins to wet the bar in salivating drool. The rave scene is a pool of swim trunk bikini obsessions that make you bless confessions. Friends flock together like sea gulls on Mc Donald’s parking lots scavenging shots, cigarette butts, & quick hits. Jerks throw fits and grope outfits molesting female property no hand prints to charge robbery. But their mockery only burns disgust for men leading women to an altercation of a bi-sexual orientation. Approaching the nest is the wild ears listening of a young attractive male glistening in the glitter of ecstasy. Swiftly he raises glow sticks in the air going left, right: right, left. He’s like a ref in a trance not knowing how to make the call. The speaker speaks through the wall, “Shhhhh, be quiet. Listen?” A rumbling like a thunderstorm roars shaking the floors and rattling the doors. Downpours of cymbal high hat snares bang like ice on windows and a wind blows a gust of cool air. Drenched hair, blood sweat drenches everywhere drowning eyelids that squint from the camera flash lights. Gracefully the dancer highlights his marriage to the floor proposing leg stands, back hands, and head jams. The body slams like water plops to pavement in stormy weather. Clever arts & performers take to the stage in their choreographed skills. Looking for thrills our gladiator of the night grabs the right arm of a luscious two piece leotard Jane. He’s within range as he begins to arrange a lustful intention savoring this brown eyed long haired brunette that’s grabbing his attention. A sleek dimension revealing a sheer open back blouse her belly button flaunts out in silver sterling with studded sapphires. Her body transpires a tanned mocha café blend complexion. Her perfection lies in washboard abs, buns of steel, and legs to die for. Her cry for erotica clings to her waist with thong strings showing at the waistline. A goddess divine wearing jeans painted on skin displaying distressful strains, tiger striped veins, and discolored grains. The angel reigns enchanted in euphoria as red eyes fail to disguise a devil in the makes. Her tongue snakes out her mouth slithering a barbell metal obtrusion. A bare flesh seclusion tattles a tattoo of hells gates with fire burning etches on her back like open canvas sketches. As the serenade begins to escalade they begin to invade by wandering mouths over ears to cross names and laugh out fears. Their hands near each others erogenous zones grinding the pelvis to the bones. He owns the anatomy with one hand holding back her stand man handling her land. Exhibitionist’s finds these things pleasing, a sultry teasing of indecency. Immediately they back away to ballet overtures and a tip toe stand. The band ensemble has been mutilated as orchestrated symphonic string cords reincarnate classical music compositions. If, Bach only had premonitions of how a moonlight sonata might be played at a 120 bpm and see bodies race like a car on rpm. Elegantly they close in with twisted positions each on missions to interrogate unknown territories. So they can trade stories to friends who sit hopeless drooling on slabs of concrete or plushed on velvet pillows underneath the carpets feet. Abruptly the beat rearranges like a chameleon adapts to changes the Dj blends to the environment. The development in frequencies leads these two to the lounge reception. They begin talking about friends they know and places they go to hang out at and have a good time at. He begins to rap in riddles that diddles her mind. He can’t find time to use two words that connect respect or intellect. Yet she holds him close never letting him get another dose, his infection is for her protection. She squirms like worms in canned dog food he turns our stomachs like two days old rotten Chinese food. Rude; delivers treasures as their pleasures confess each other’s belongings. His longings pant like a dog in heat yelping for his trick or treat. Witch brewed love potions never had notions so crude in these incantations. These two fiend’s temptations are bad spells bursting wells of flooded waters. They’re taking orders and passing third dates rules on keeps and breaks. They’re in love with one night occasions no commitments for caring sensations. No worries or hesitations they’re free to roam the cabin. Manhattan gave breed to the sex & the city cultivation now an intimate affair transforms into new realization. The lover dazed & confused mingles back to the culture of the twenty first century. His friends are thirsty in details but he prevails to elude their minds. He crosses signs from a latex leathered temptress casting a devilish grin of approval. But her removal is in the works as what lurks from shady lady is the claims to her prize. His eyes act surprise seeing her come back and quickly they pick up where they left off at. Now they catch each other in oblivious behaviors they’ve become each others life savors. They head back to the counter stumbling and fumbling onto guests shouting outrageous requests. Friends make jests to go home noticing the sun glow through the steel bolted doors outside. They both decide to exchange phone numbers. As they leave they’re left in wonders if they’ll ever see each other again because now it’s aspirin and toilets waiting for them. Next week Rhetorical Nonsense will be there performing “You don’t care”. In my own trance I glance at the flyer thinking to myself is this what they call an intimate affair? [comments] => 4 [counter] => 563 [topic] => 43 [informant] => Jacktripper [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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