by

Cinder Blocks.

I want sit at the hearth of your manhood,

and stoke the fire to dangerous heights,

stir at its white-hot cinder blocks,

fuel the embers of its dark corners,

you burn like fire,

in my heart – in my mind,

in my skin – a temperature rise,

emblazoned, emboldened,

a singe at the touch that’s so very right

beheld by the highest of the high,

as well as the beggars of the night,

you’re made up of the stuff,

that speaks directly to my concubine,

not a nano-second passes by me,

without warmth of a cosmic heat,

like a fire burning steadily,

slurping out my poetry,

like a vampire of pure lovability,

like a conflagration of flames,

dirty words and silly pet names,

I want to make you see,

tell me, do you see?

Is it “you”, or “me”, or is it “we”?

 

 

 

 

21 thoughts on “Cinder Blocks.”

  1. tarnishedsoul says:
    July 20, 2016 at 9:26 PM

    Mmmmhmmmmm…..
    Fanning myself here. 😆

  2. DeadlyPixieDust says:
    July 20, 2016 at 9:37 PM

    Flawless

  3. Isaac Gathings says:
    July 20, 2016 at 9:37 PM

    Bravo! Such beautiful wording, this is a fine piece.

  4. Simon says:
    July 20, 2016 at 10:53 PM

    This is more than a bit hot, it’s a give you have that comes out from time to time that I love to see! 😃😘

  5. MARSHALL THOMPSON says:
    July 21, 2016 at 8:11 AM

    As is said in Louisiana…” HOT AS A POT OF RICE AT A 1/4 TIL NOON”

  6. Rita says:
    July 21, 2016 at 2:33 PM

    Ohhhh, I love this. LOVE IT <3