Posted on by Vaudelaire

Private maid

Moving amongst dust and lust
A hand on your bust
A bosom getting thrust
May we vacuum the crust
That left us without trust
You shall see the dance
Of the cleaned stance
And a single glance
Would have you clinched


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Posted on by Vaudelaire

Between closeness

The river of intention flowing across this infinite space, as emptiness between millions of stars burning the black night into an immortal fire.
This space sensed, not seen, compressed, not eliminated. Down this hole we both fall as shooting stars across a burning sky.
A touch flowing in a diamond river, a kiss burning the forest down under, rising its nature to the Moon, crying for the wolf to end this twisting winds of words laid on fall leaves dressing this bed of fire.

Poète des pauvres et pôvre pouète

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