Archive for the Spring Category

For Occasional Use Only as Directed…

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, Appreciation, Celebration, Collaboration, Conjured Up Next, Cumming Back, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Dirty, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Erotic Poetry, Explicit Sexual Language, Fornicating, Fun, Goddess, His Penis Her Vagina, Imp Of The Perverse, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Liason, Love, Mature Theme, Memoires of a Post-Neo Dharma Bum, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Much To Good For Children, Much Too Good For Children, NSFW, Poetry, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Primate Romance/Adventure, Sex, Sexual Action/Adventure, Sorcery, Spring, The Id, The Wisdom, Theater of the Mind, Tsukimono-suji, Uroboros, Vagina, What You Have Conjured Up, Zen with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 5, 2014 by dreamlanddancing

An angel crash-landed

at Villa Dreamland’s

temporary encampment,

The Home for Wayward Souls.

Loosely clad in

terry shorts

and a satin

team jacket

with only a few of the bottom buttons

fastened,

allowing

the free-range puppies

to

wrestle and cavort

beneath its logo.

***

As I wrestled with the gatekeeper

to my realm of Velocity and Power,

she appeared

out of nowhere.

She noted we shared the same brand

and marks;

the co-conspiring

symbols

of

Speed and Mystery.

I was surprised

when I realized

it wasn’t a Raiders jacket

after all;

(as it turned out

she was a stretcher-bunny

long ago and had developed a taste

for icons and talismans that

captured my attentions….)

“What a coincidence…”

I foolishly assumed.

Part naughty tomboy,

part wood-nymph,

her long chestnut hair

was everywhere,

like a lions mane.

Her feline eyes

sparkled slightly with mischief

while she made suggestions

as to how to regain control

of my access

to time and space.

We conferred

on a few points,

concurred,

and then she

set upon the project

as if it was her own

(with my blessing

and assistance).

Clad only in a bathrobe,

my attempts to access

points below the dashboard

did not go unnoticed,

as she smiled slightly, then

sighed approvingly.

Ignition and liftoff

confirmed our success

as she began to close the case,

and I felt myself falling

yet again,

with no sign of impact

anytime soon.

***

This trailer park angel

is a newfound

neighbor,

but she quickly advised

she could not be taken for granted

and had a life of her own,

her precautionary statements

contrasting her jovial demeanor

She warned

“Take only as directed.”

“Use with caution.”

“For Occasional Use Only.”

“May be habit-forming.”

“May lead to respiratory arrest.”

(She already took my breath away once…)

***

“See ya in the post office, kiddo…”

she whispered in my ear.

(What?) I wondered?

“…the rogue’s gallery…

on the wall,

with the other gangsters….”

She winked playfully

and then I knew….

“You owe me one…”

she said.

“If you got the time later,

maybe you can

help me with a tune-up

I’d like to get done

before my kid gets home from school.”

“…Maybe tonight

you can even

introduce me to your wife…

tell her my name is Mata Hari

and we’ll call her Tokyo Rose…”

***

This woman of mystery,

this trailer-park tomboy angel

with slightly singed wings,

a lover of pearl necklaces,

with a need for speed

reminds me…

“In the Springtime

the rains come

and the grass

grows all by itself…”

Life returns.

Baraka Bashad.

Spring Dream

Posted in Celebration, Erotic Poetry, Fun, Poetry, Spring with tags , , , , on September 29, 2013 by dreamlanddancing

Spring rolls in like mist on a lake.

Dawn belongs to the Spring.

The renewal of Life

to awake from long hibernation.

It’s all a dream

of waking from a dream

where sleeping is all that we knew.

Spring is a cat stalking the first robin of the season.

Spring is skinny-dipping on a Nooner.

Impulse impaled on a ritual

electric, yet primeval,

Romance confounding all Reason.

Vibrant intensity balancing cool hues of pastel

Caution giving way to Compulsion,

Heaven infiltrating Hell.

It’s all a dream…it’s only a dream

that smart lives forbid us to tell.

Spring is as moist as the forbidden honey of a passionate tryst

consummated going home from a funeral…

A cry of joyous outrage

railing against tedious Death.

Spring is the most recent

loss of Innocence,

naughty, and yet still naïve.

Stolen kisses on a warm afternoon.

The days we most love to remember.

It’s all a dream.

The lewdest of dreams

                           from which we do not wish to be awoken.

We spring to action

and come to Life.

The fountain of life is but a spring.

The clock would stop

but for its ever-taught spring, and

Hope springs defiantly eternal

as a song springs to our lips.

Spring isn’t as much a season

as it is new eyes

with which we view

our same old wintry lives.

It’s all a dream of dream within a dream.

If you’re lucky you’ll never awaken.

Sculpture

Sculpture (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The Double Dream of Spring

The Double Dream of Spring (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A still from the skinny dipping scene.

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