Thursday, August 6, 2009


The kiss of death


I was the king of Spain
and she was the queen.
We fought with pillows, feathers and hammers,
through the fever of ourselves.
White canaries sang on the windowsill,
Galleons rose on tall black seas as
day and night in battle we fell.
The heat of her made me sweat,
hot hands and thighs all over me,
long black hair hanging loose,
painted nails clutching at my heart.
She was beautiful, too beautiful, her
soft words were spoken, barely whispered
sweet nothings, in breathy deathly lust.
She wanted me so bad
if I but closed my eyes
and kissed her lips,
I was gone.

13 comments:

steven said...

so many moments are like that - touch their essence and away they go.

willow said...

Oh, I love this. It's WONderful read aloud.

I was so flattered by your kind comments on my poem. Thank you.

ArtSparker said...

Still with the fever dreams...

Heather said...

I love this poem, and the dramatic photograph. I think my bug has buggered off and hope yours is about to do the same.

John Hayes said...

Hey, I like this one--the opening is killer (so to speak); the "king & queen of Spain" seems weirdly perfect. Hope you're feeling better--good to see you're "up & commenting," so that maybe means you're a bit on the mend.

Niamh B said...

This is beautiful

The Weaver of Grass said...

I cannot but feel this poem was written at the height of your delirium TFE - if so glad you resisted the temptation and stayed in this world for a while longer.
Are you well and truly on the mend?
Sorry about the piggy image in my photo - completely forget that it might shock you in your present state!

Totalfeckineejit said...

Hey Steven,i think this moment( death) is still hanging around ! Thanks for dropping by :)


Thanks, Willow, and you deserved them :)

Hello AS. Dream,what dream? ;)

Hello Heather,delighted you're better. I'm up and down like a yo yo.Back to Doc tomorrow.Glad youlike picpoem. Thanks ye :)

Thanks, John,King of Spain cme from a song I was listening to and the rst had been brewing so followed on. Feel rough tonight my friend. Hoping tomorrow will be better :)


That's kind Mrs Niamh, thanks ye :)


Thanks Weaver, sometimes I envy atheists. When you feel really,like really, ill, I can see the temptation of just letting go to nothing.As for all things porcine I will unleash my revenge as soon as I am better-starting with a Guineys book of bollix attempt at the most bacon sandwiches eaten in a minute(underwater)

Jeanne Iris said...

Holy Sh--!! Awesome poem, TFE!!!

the watercats said...

wow... this is a really raw, elemental thing of lovliness.. never thought of death before as a powerful, sensual, lustful woman.. I suppose it appears in many forms.. I love the rhythm of these words... beautiful... cheers for chanelling these words from the depths of your fever and sharing them, take it easy mush!

The Lesser Weevil said...

Oh! TFE!! You can't do that! That's sacrilege!! Eating bacon butties under WATER - you'll get the bread all soggy. Waste of good grub! But so glad that you're up and about. Your poem's beautiful, but shame on Mrs Eejit for tormenting you so, while you're too poorly to fight her off! Poor lamb!

Sandra Leigh said...

I'm glad you resisted the temptress, Eejit. Welcome back.

Sara said...

Sooo beautiful - but why female?? Woman is the kind life giver - it was probably she who brought you back safely in her arms.