urbanverbs

Love Song.

By Hakim Bellamy Visit his website by clicking here.

Writing love songs
Makes one think less
About the sex
They wish they were having

Breath
Hot, heaving, heavy
And relatively unused

Sits frustrated
And lonely
In lungs
Waiting

Waiting for a chance
To make it

Beautiful music

Make out
A way
Escape
To its preferred destination

Behind her ear
The condensation
Humidity of hym

Waiting
To wail
Against walls
And neighbor’s sense
Of what’s decent

Only the sex starved
Distaste the sound
Of human’s feeding off
Each other

My breath
Is waiting

To mate with music
In order to sound
Less desperate
More romantic

Because love songs
Make one think less

About the mornings
We give in to
Too easily

The nights
We no longer
Keep for ourselves

Our bodies
We find easier
To give to work
And worry
And war

Than to
Our partners
And wants
And love

Love songs
Make us
Think less
About sex

More about
The world
We put between
Our souls

That can’t
Get any closer
Than they are
When we’re not clothed

The practice
Of pushing poems into
And pumping poems
Out of one another

Get scrapped
Like every art
When budget cuts
A comin’
And us
Uncomely

Our sheets
Musicless
Resembling
A poet’s
Blank rage

You used to
Sing everyday
And that’s something
The love songs
Can’t replace

We slave
For everything
But love
These days

And that’s a shame

I long
For the days of
Sex-fest in bed
Where we forgot to eat
And fucked
A whole day
Off the end of the week

Now
All the things
We forget about
When we’re having sex
Are what we remember
And forget about
Having sex…

So I’m up late
And burning sole

Lighting lyrics instead

Keeping my
Art beat
Beating on
Your porch

Til you return
To the rocking chair
Of our relationship
And we share
Our bodies
Under the light
Left on for you

Your ear
To the vault of my heart
Tongue to belly
Unbuttoned
And unlocked

In my chest
You’ll find
A pile
Of unpublished
Songs
On fire

Next to
A metronome
Maintaining the
Rhythm of the last time
You let go
You went soul
Damn you could blow…

In the key
You forgot.

Making love
Is an art
Passion
Is not a plan
It’s a priority

There’s no
Love song
More seductive
Than “I
Want to Fuck you
Right now…”

Tomorrow
Can wait
Until we finish
Worshipping today

We are promised
To each other
Though
Tomorrow is not

There is no
Amount of sleep
That can make tomorrow
Feel better
Than the sleep
We can lose
Right now

Make longer
The enjoyable
Ride of our lives
By two
Horizontal hours

There’s nothing
We have to do
Tomorrow
More important
Than who
We aren’t doing
Right now

I don’t want
To have time
To write songs
About why
I have time
To write
Love songs

Unless you
Are singing again…?

I’d rather
Be having sex
To think less
About the songs
I wish I was writing

About the love
We’re never too tired for
The love
We never get tired of
The love
We keep on re-writing
In lyrics
All over her body
In lipstick
All over my body
In liquid
All over our bodies

Evaporating
And re-writing
Waking
And re-writing

And
Re-writing.

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