I Scream, You Scream

source

The temperature’s rising

You’re getting so hot

Relief from this fever

Would sure hit the spot

Something delicious

and sinfully sweet

that seduces the senses

and cools down that heat

Maybe a taste
Too much is a sin
But once you have started 
you have to give in

Sometimes it’s messy

and gets in your hair

but when it's the good stuff

you really don’t care

If you're not careful
it drips down your chin
a dreamy rich cream
that makes your mouth grin

Some like it dark

and some like it light

And a mix of the two

For some is just right

Single, double, or triple

(more might be chancy!)

There’ll always be something

To tickle your fancy

Some like it plain

Simple and neat

Some prefer extras

To make it complete

A squirt of whipped cream

or maybe a drop

of chocolate syrup

with cherry on top

Using your tongue

Can be lots of fun

A lick here, a lick there

and, wow, it’s all done!

When your body’s on fire

From toes up to lips

Go grab a cool sweet

Do you catch the drips?

Submitted for Theme Thursday, Ice Cream

Warning: Video not for those easily offended by suggestive male dancing and/or backsides!

Cazwell - Ice Cream Truck by INgrooves

Thought For the Day, Week, Month...

“Grow that dream you had at five years old

the first time a pencil callused your kindergarten fingers

You ran all the way home screaming

“Look Mom! I’m a writer! My hand is changing shape to

prove that I’m a writer”.

Grow that,

in every crack of pavement

the soles of your feet can find.

— “Alaska Says Sun” —Andrea Gibson

In the Sunset

Edward Hopper House at Dusk 1935

In the sunset

where the day hides its most vulnerable moments

I think of you

In the most tender hour

between light and dark

I still feel the ache

of a lost friendship.

submitted for The Mag 119

God In the Synapses

photography by Daryl Edelstein of mosaic by Isaiah Zagar

On my knees

I pray to the gods of pain

Offerings, sacrifices upon the altar

What I won't give up if they will spare me

just for this day

this trip

this event

Do they even hear my pleas?

Are they laughing?

Searching for God in the synapses

between neurons

I realize it's already too late

That familiar haze has descended

a gauze curtain over my brain

I am here yet

Not

My ghost is living my life again

Panic

I must abort abort ABORT

before...

Scents of patchouli and blueberry drift

into my consciousness

I retreat into the dark

I am a bat

I need to sleep, sleep, sleep

but the gods deny even that

They play with me like

a cat does a mouse

Infliction of pain is more satisfying

than the kill

The eye twists in its socket

while a vise tightens around the temples

A garage band has parked its amplifiers 

inside my skull

Bass and drum pounding, pounding nonstop

Head shatters

Dozens of jagged fragments

each holding its own misery

The bed has become a tilt-o-whirl

no way off

The gods won't be bribed

to stop this ride

I make one final appeal

for unconsciousness.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Fireblossom Fridays, Stress

and Sunday Challenge, Featuring Daryl Edelstein, Part 2