Reconnaissance

 

Late arrival into meeting room.
You scavenge for me amongst
faces you command, commandeer.
I lower my eyes to defend
against bulleted frontline thoughts,
daring an agenda of fantasy.

Sitting opposite. Each others target.
Our kindred spirits embrace
only once throughout the hour.
Quick chatter accompanies slow exits;
you need “a word”, and blend me into
corporate grey carpeted corridor.

Enter. Pussy bowed, lace topped stockings
in boudoir of executive entertainment.
Machiavellian eyes spy femme fatale,
coquettishly stretched across bastion desk,
fetching sweet treat to couple with tea.

Professional advice given, attentive notes
carefully written; keeping hands busy.
Nervously tapping inveigling high heels.
I leave – before emotions get ricocheted
on the office floor like our biscuit crumbs.

 

From “Of Lilith and Anthony” poetry collection by Katypoetess 2014

Anthony and Katypatra

Katypatra

I arrive. Quickly turning bedroom from Rome into Alexandria.
Skin up, pop cork to dilute and delight blood with Bollinger.
Determined to mix up a confidence to conquer, my
Goddess summoning up a strip tease of your morality.

“The triple pillar of the world transformed into a strumpet’s fool.”*

Coiling concubine – arabesque around your thighs to
nourish exotic fantasy. Arching precision that brushstrokes
sorcery onto chest and fever the soft hair below your belly.
Teasing out your sacred melancholy, never leaving each others gaze.

“There’s beggary in the love that can be reckoned.”*

Your angel, your nemesis – drip feeding you a decadence.
I’m watching your concentration, my inspiration a Sahara
of aspiration as you write. You listen only to your own thoughts,
I triumph in cruel comfort of living the low life with you.

“O! my oblivion is a very Antony, And I am all forgotten”*.

Montage of limb upon limb, we snuggle idle – licking,
mewling as Persian kittens wrapped in each others paws.
Your kingdom falls into a Nile of our new found innocence,
equating to divine forever. Content and wonderfully misspent.

“Eternity was in our lips and eyes, Bliss in our brows bent”.*

Keeping temple open – you compulsively worship through Sunday.
Seductive flush of an asp’s curse onto suburban empire.
Bequething a purulent wound, I scratch hieroglyphics on your back.
Your fallen one, juxtapose all shades of crimson and gold. I leave.

“He’s speaking now, or murmuring ‘Where’s my serpent of old Nile?”*

 

 
*Shakespeare – Antony and Cleopatra
©  Katypoetess 2014

Beholden to Behind

 

A thumb – intently placed on chin

caressing every freckle into a letter

that spells out a story blushing lips

that remand and remade the ending

 

Forefinger – smoothing the jaw

straight as lines read and re-read

he turns her over like a page

his favourite fable, every inch

a mythology of unreason.

 

Genteel palm – perfectly placed

on ripened white, depressing spine

into maidenly goading of docility.

Two hearts, to start – a beautiful violation

 

 

© Katypoetess 2015

 

Ouroborus

 

IV
Six seasons of discontent pass. In late March snow, oak trees bud warily
in spring’s sharp breath over bitter ground, where you stole my venerated virginity.
Swarming seagulls collide confused unable to land on canal outside my window.
Struck wilful by a wormhole of intuition, I hear a call from Jack of Hearts
to reprove, reclaim his submissive Lilith who cannot lay her head to rest.
Seizing pen, I follow frayed red thread that journeys across determined Irish sea.

This onerous ocean married us in our fool’s paradise, whether we liked it or not.
Stooping under weight of simple twist of fate, I know you can feel me coming.
Knock once, Knock twice, Knock third, final time on splintering wood between us.
After a lingering minute it opens. Silently you stare the hard lonely fever,
no colour or light in your eyes. I caress the many lines now on your face,
preserving the poems you have been unable to write.

V
Do I go in?

 

Excerpt from Ouroborus  – Of Lilith and Anthony, by Katypoetess

The Best

there is a flood myth separating any island of instinct from land of

emotional reaction. Unconsciously, we both guard against dreams

of memories but you and I are together everywhere. transformed,

I continue to give you the will to live and not just desire a destiny.

We are volatile apart, because I still have the best of you – with me.

Excerpt from The Best from “Of Lilith and Anthony” by Katypoetess.

 

 

 

 

 

Voyeur

 

 
Moon beckons a beacon for the night demon’s path.
Comfort strewn by creaks of cooling corners in the bedroom.
Dutiful goodnight kisses obligate a renewed commitment
to freshly etched, stone set commandments of the marriage rite.

Left alone, he clicks familiar websites, browsing history
carefully kept out of sight. Easing tension transiently until eyes
hit on a caress of photo exhibited heedlessly. Reality battles virtuality
as thoughts slowly unzip the mask which slips silken to floor.

He fumbles to unclasp the clips to cyberstrip his Jezebel
who exists no more. As he closes his eyes, two knights collide,
twilight pain whipped alive again. It feels right, this hardcore
shame where he clamours death’s toll of Lilith’s liberation.

Lilith locks her front door, scurries upstairs. Scanning sky
for moon’s position, her brow furrows at full dominant shine
onto cunny musked sheets that arouse him. She remorsefully
shakes her head at the calling of her name within the silence.

Hot shiver – against eyes that she cannot see, but hold her
in gaze of violence of tormented past and mist a certain future.
This nyctophilic nymph lies down on stake of anhedonia,
praying for a peaceful sleep on splintered bed of obsession.

Anxious, as she blushes drowsy, his recurrent, fevered
subjugation returns. Feather of nightmares that tender a sting
more than any crop. He binds red thread round each wrist,
tying her tight, taking refuge in her secluded humiliation.

All his loss, his gain, his forthcoming pleasure and perpetual
pain dwells in her delirium. Dangering heavy on her solitude,
watching her scream his screams, weep his tears for him
as he is muzzled and mislead by promise of marital monogamy.

He pushes his hardened possession into her, so subtle, so gently,
so not to disturb her memories of a broken heart. “I want the control”
he whispers. She semi-swoons a protest, but her unconscious
relinquishes all resistance. He knows, she is his again.

Hydropic yearning spreads herself to drink his flamboyant lechery.
A salacious slave of his command to enter evergreen eden.
He ritualizes a devotional crucifixion with slow tender touch,
writing a sonnet on her breasts and raising her hips to his rhythm.

She licks and stokes abyss between who he thinks he should be
and who he really is. Caressing every conflict, nuzzling neuroses
acted out in careless words of sin. Prudently, he threshes her thighs
in carnal vexation, every lash a fight against his compulsion.

“Let me go”, she pleads as he rollicks rough her ruffled long strands
of auburn on pillow. He pursues to violate her with his melody,
“You will always be mine”. A jealous bite of erotomania that brings
them to obscene symphony, cadenced by her faithful cries.

He fades as she wakes, wet confusion blurs night into day.
Taste on lips she cannot place. Night visions flush fixation that fervid
villain will return to reclaim his Juliet of dark tragedy. Committed
to Magdalene asylum, she rattles the bars on her window, awaiting a rescue.

 

Voyeur, from “Of Lilith and Anthony” – © Katypoetess 2013

 

Your Father

 

I fluttered a hurricane into his dull unrealisation, brought him a unique colour
that shrouded him so bright despite all the social conditioning and
marital expectations of his generation, not mine. It is not who we are
but what we give to each other in life. I gave him sanctuary and time,
talked him up and down in clandestine finery, embracing his fears of losing
his children with blind faith that their love would not be shaken. I was mistaken.

 
Now alone, I teach my children that we need many loves to help us grow
and swans are an ideal elysium, not an expectation. He still loves me
and I still love him, silently alongside victorian romantic stories of frustration
where all kinds of family, duty, obligation, and vanity win the game
against true happiness. You are still young, and freedom will fly from you too.
Love him, forgive him and when you next look in your father’s eyes,
look for the fire asphixed in his soul – that has now died.

 

Excerpt from Your Father – Of Lilith and Anthony by Katypoetess

Benefit of the Doubt

 

Out of a impetuous love,
that no boundaries could hold,
they writhed in agony,
his adultery exposed.

He fought like a coward,
and then played the martyr,
to mask the bastard,
that existed thereafter.

He had found the boy,
and his blue eyes shone,
but something was missing,
now the maiden was gone.

A husband, a father,
A role model sublime,
to stop himself writing,
outside of the lines.

 

© Katypoetess 2013

 

Owl Ghost

 

 

Prophecy or protection,
wisdom or inflection,
your powder down,
I cannot clean.

A haunting call through the valleys of resentment,

forgive – forgive – forgive

 

Excerpt from Owl Ghost – Of Lilith and Anthony poetry collection by Katypoetess

Re-Awakening

 

Lilith’s owl blinks in face of mewl and hiss, your fallacy of hatred.

Tussling the urge to die, to run; finally through writing I won.

Hibernation for this red admiral abates. Darker colourings

replace, radiate, I thresh my wings audaciously wide.

Tasting the air; I smell your fear now, instead of mine.

Excerpt: Re-Awakening from “Of Lilith and Anthony” poetry collection by © Katypoetess 2013

 

Matchbox

 

Saved yourself
sold me out
yearning glowers
stagnated doubt

Punished all ways
for your mistakes
faithfulness pyred
bitterness flames

Limerence fades
reveals the reality
sees the matchbox
in it’s totality

Excerpt from “Matchbox” – Of Lilith and Anthony Poetry Collection

© Katypoetess 2013

 

 

One Year Apart

 

Curfew of separation wills obedience. Disingenuously we covet
a named grave with intrusive memories. We shelter a secret sorrow.
Mutual masturbation of wretched discontent purges any yearning.
Thinking the best and worst of each other, I blog – you block.
Love is astray in our catacombs of psychological resistance.
Deafened by the sonic boom of unfinished business .

 

Excerpt from One Year Apart from “Of Lilith and Anthony” poetry collection by Katypoetess

Happy Father’s Day

 

Relentless June rain juggles summer of performance,
to the rolling up of realisation, also someone’s daughter.
Equestrian misses whipping mistress, remains martyred loner.
Highly billed, sought after, ticketed circus owner.
Medium of intuition dangles planchette of indecision.

 

 
Excerpt from “Happy Father’s Day” – Of Lilith and Anthony poetry collection by
© Katypoetess 2013

Our Berlin Wall

 

In our dreams
I run
In our memories
you run.
Towards the wall
I thought I heard
you thought you heard
the other call.

Checkpoint of illusion
guns down
bird of freedom.
Dutiful suicide,
shell shocked minds
clamber, find
road to salvation
on the path of least resistance.

 
Excerpt from Our Berlin Wall, Of Lilith and Anthony poetry collection by
© Katypoetess 2013

Of Katy and Narcissus

 

Floating

In the river of vigour
Fade and smote the figure
That held the quail
Of you and me

When did you lose your own reflection?

Waiting

In the meadow of retribution
Taunt and spleen the illusion
That held the regret
Of you – not me

How did I find the sound of my own voice?

 

Excerpt from Of Katy and Narcissus, from” Of Lilith and Anthony” poetry collection by  Katypoetess

Oak Tree III

 

 

Furrowed in an acorn. An omen that there’s more
to these trees of life than the pretence they create.
Stripes earned and barbed, not one leaf falls to be caught.
Stripped and raped twigs, bare bark truth of memories.

 

Excerpt from  Oak Tree III – “Of Lilith and Anthony”  © Katypoetess 2013

This World, Another Time

 

No false hope and longing,
ever brought about a belonging,
but your incubus still sits heavy on my dark.
I was a flighty butterfly,
but I was your butterfly,
that dusted the colour in your heart.

I try to scribe away the pain,
briefly banish you to whence you came,
the breeze blows me solitude and I mourn.
I re-write my ending to self preserve,
not only what I desire but what I deserve,
will the pen be mightier than the sword?

 

Excerpt from  “This World, Another Time – “Of Lilith and Anthony”  © Katypoetess 2013