I love collaborations.
I do love collaborations.
I’m happy and grateful for my amazing co-authors.
Kasey Stafford. (How are you, Kasey? It’s been a long time since I’ve heard from you… I hope you’re OK!)
Michael Spahr. (Michael, I’m so sorry about the delay with my letter! I’ll finish this post and run into my e-mail box!)
Tony Single. (Well… I should say something now… ahem… ahem… Tony! YOU ROCK! Yes. I’m Captain Obvious… LOL!)
Ry Hakari. (Ry! My dear Scourged Red-Winged Blackbird! Please, visit your FB-nest!)
You’re my Gurus, guys. I bow my head and touch your feet. I’m your humble apprentice. Thank you for this honor to work with you! It was funny and sad, philosophical and playful, innocent and obscene… but it was awesome always.
I remember my every collaboration. Honestly! Every collaboration is special. I hope my lessons will last for a long time… But today… Yes.
A big day!
What can I say about Gregory? Hmmm… He’s a tall blue-eyed blonde and a lawyer, he plays tennis and likes yodeling… LOL! Did you swallow that bullshit? NO! I’m kidding, of course. I know nothing about Gregory except the fact that he has a really cool name (you do love HOUSE M.D., don’t you?) and he writes mind-blowing poems.
So… let me introduce you our common effort. I hope you enjoy this little poetical trip. And one last thing before you start… Hey! Don’t use drugs, guys! It’s not cool! Read poems! It’s the fashion at present!
She doesn’t attempt to untangle
The dreams locked within the strands of her hair
She stares at the sky waiting for something…
She sees how Draco flirts with Lesser Bear
Playing the starry triangle
A loose smile creeps upon her face
Like a dark shadow confined to a peculiar dance
Her mind and emotions traipse confusions’ paradise.
Lesser Bear gives Draco a disdainful look askance
Touching the collar with jet lace
He doesn’t witness her transition
Her body contracting, scaling, slithering,
Her whisper-hiss’s about Baudelaire, Hughes & Hughes…
Syphilitic ‘Les Fleurs du mal’ are withering…
No one can be her physician
He realizes too late
Her body has coiled from his feet to his waist
Look of love: Unorthodox pleasure in horror…
Air is filled with a subtle hashish aftertaste…
Barbed pinions start to gyrate
A meditation of some form is due
Polka dot scales, Hades blue, this poetic voodo
He collapses elated to notice an audience entranced…
Even your high celestial status can’t protect from the hoodoo
Subtle laces sink into Draco’s bloody goo…
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & GREGORY WAITS JR.
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