Purple Carnage

Somewhere warm,

outside under

dancing lights and

colour changing trees,

hazel eyes met and

the rest of the world

became blurred,

shot out of focus

as pounding pulses

matched beats

and eyes and limbs

locked as surely as

if little ropes had

been thrown from them

to lassoo us together.

For 3 days and nights

we remained like this,

our electro magnetic

vibrations so intense

that anyone inadvertently

passing too close

had an instant orgasm

and staggered away

in confusion while

we remained in

delicious oblivion,

rendered incapable

for this was as out of our

control as having

simultaneous nose bleeds,

spurting and gushing

all over us and everyone

around us until the whole

place looks like a

crime scene, people 

slipping and tripping, 

smearing bloody hand prints

on walls, floors, faces

except it isn't red,

its purple.

Then the music ended

and we went home.

When I close my eyes I see

your face as clear as if 

it's tattooed on the inside

of my eyelids.

Sometimes a smile

is just a smile and 

other times its

purple carnage.

Reviews

[PianoandPage]

mmm i like it. it's wonderfully messy and unrestrained. the attraction of artists to each other and the resulting meltdown that draws in others, only to burn them up in the intensity of that love/lust.

you write in such a wonderfully unpredictable style. i love the playful bit where people slip/trip on your gushy-ness.

another great poem april!

[R J Askew]

Great stuff like a news report from the love zone, from a participant in the never-ending action. I esp like the idea of the image tat on the inside of the eyelids...and many a person cld use the spontaneous orgasm facility I suspect.