Author: jonathan delucia
25.07.2009

I cut the radio

Cut it off

I cut the radio off.

I no longer want to hear songs

we didn’t make.

Indeed this was a stamp on my memory,

violet and orange ink fill my history,

Sunrise

Get it.
Palms out…grab it.

A stamp on our history.

Let all Creation hear what you and I whisper.

To you,
my new muse,
my poem.

The one who’s breath adds third harmonics to mine

In the most

sexiest of taste.

I am a skinny, pink organ who vibrates.

To you belong my letters,
for you hear them and don’t burn them.

Rather, you dip them in water with our roses.

An offering to her
so worthy of it’s value.
she will capture my lovesongs from now on
and I hers,

Muse. I will be her muse too.

Muse

Music

For you, love, time is faithful deposits.

Our hair will get longer, our skin darker,

And in merely time…

I will lock you in to my genius.

And you will put me in the space between your lungs,

For I am young.

And you are the kind one.

As we wait, grow…

And we will sing our songs under tribal destinies.

We will kill boys and girls and create new ones…

©2009 Jonathan DeLucia, all rights reserved.

palms out…grab it when it comes.


Leave a Reply