Hypnotized

I've been unusually inclined toward poetry lately, so here's another. Maybe somewhat... risque, but I like it:

I’ve never felt more of a Zen state,

But never found it harder to think straight.

The aggressive bass-filled music

Pounds into my head,

Jerking my body into movement with its rhythm.

The lights are all flashing

And most of them colored in vibrant hues.

The crowd is obscured in the constantly shifting light

And I find it’s easier to keep my

Attention on my immediate surroundings.

Easier, and preferable.

The beat pulses through us both,

I feel it through her flesh pressed close against mine

As we are pulled in unison with it.

We become one with crowd in an intoxicating conformity.

In this strange peace all thoughts flee my head;

I couldn’t remember my own name at this point.

All I know are the contours of her body

Finding those of mine and fitting perfectly.

Running a hand down to her hips

My fingers brush her exposed skin

And that pleasurable electricity jolts up my arm.

I don’t just forget the outside world,

It ceases to exist.

Classes,

Tests,

Work,

Friends,

Family,

And other assorted distractions just stop

And all that exists is our bodies,

Joined in this euphoric dance.

Minutes,

Hours,

Days,

Years pass,

And finally the night ends and she’s left already.

I didn’t give her my name,

And I didn’t get hers.

I didn’t ask for it.

All I asked for was a night of forgetfulness.

For a partner in finding bliss.

Perhaps I’ll see her again,

But probably not.

There will be other partners,

And it’ll be the same.

Everyone’s the same

Before the commanding beat.

Drizzle

Sitting in the cold and wet
On a Friday afternoon
Watching the world,
The view is subdued.

From the people,
Who huddle in scarves and sweaters
Against the chill,
To the trees and brush
That dip and bend beneath the drizzle,
Everything is a little more peaceful.

Perspective is a funny thing.
To many this is a dreary and depressing scene,
But to my eye it's just at rest.
The people collapse in on themselves
And gather their warmth,
Puffing out visible mists,
Giving evidence of their life.

The trees, sagging and glistening with
Tiny droplets of the most bedazzling crystals,
Rest from the weary work of holding themselves aloft.
A shimmering shower shows them
The most refreshing relaxation,
And as they sway in the wind I swear I see some sigh.

Heaving a sigh of my own visible life,
I sag beneath the water filled sky
And flow with it into that same sublime state
As the world around me on this drizzly afternoon.

A Valentine's Poem

            So a certain friend had it in her mind that I should write her a poem, and bugged me about it for a few months until I finally relented and wrote her one for Valentine's Day. This person is in no way a romantic friend, so I felt no reason to not have fun and screw around with it. As insulting as I tried to make it (without making her truly hate me), she loved it. Not high quality by any means, but I had fun with it:

Terror

            Plop.

It’s back,

Here to suck my energy and tax my soul.

I try to ignore it,

But it demands my attention,

Prodding at me and entangling me

With suction cupped tentacles

That never let go once they’ve got a grip.

            Flop.

It’s getting restless.

Inching closer,

A tittering noise escapes its maw;

It’ll attack soon if I don’t give in.

Which could be worse?

The pain of being taken by force,

Or the shame of breaking and giving in?

            Shift.

                        Twitch.

The tittering is louder and more insistent,

The thing leans in for the kill,

Tentacles poised and metallic fangs glistening.

Alas, I’m not strong enough!

“What do you want, Sydney?”

The grin widens and the tentacles retract,

“You should write me a poem!”