InvasiveThoughts.com

January 2008

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AMAZE

1930s Poems by Shirley

Subjective

from Trey Garcia

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from Jackie De Hon

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Poetry and Art Corner

Art by Laura Lopez

Fernando E. Flores

Lawrence Trujillo

John Moore

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Trey Garcia

photo by Rob Hunter

A.E. Garza, R.I. Magana

Dario R. Beniquez

John Collard

Anonymous

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ArchiveTable of Contents

1 Premier Issue

2 Travel

3 Erotica

4 Death

5 Music

6 Looking Back, Ahead

7 Love & Black History

8 Women's Hist & Stories

9 Art of Expression

10 Neither Here Nor There

11 Social Injustice

12 Social Injustice II

13 Anniversary Issue

14 Green Winter

15 Elections Perspectives

16 Books

17 From the Streets

18 Abuse

19 Abuse Part II

20 Audiophile

21 Heart

22 From the Past

23 Community

Summer Sexuality


 

Here comes her summer sexuality.

This sensuality is not for men alone,

But stems from the flesh that surrounds her and hounds her ---

 

She's just passed a freckled boy with auburn-orange hair

Who's made her think of mesquite and straw cowboy hats

With half-moon brims ---

She'd like to spread her body against him.

And she loves the plump of the girl's arms, the one singing on stage…

 

At night, when the breeze blows strong,

She thinks of Celtic eyes soft and calm,

And then she gets wet,

And then she gets warm.

 

She'll lower her lids to block out a face,

But catch lips thick with a pout within some secret gaze,

And then she likes to lick those thick thick lips…

She then gets excited when catching a glimpse of two front teeth,

One seeing the other in a seductive turn of events…

 

And boys in trucks turn her on too,

Heavy gasoline and the powerful vroom ---

She's turned on by just about anything in June!

Sun-browned upper arms, soft skin, wide hips, and tattoos ---

She's probably even been turned on by you…

 

She loves skinny guys who ride bikes without shirts,

And lovely brown legs of ladies that linger long…

And the city-public-service guy driving by in brown uniform and blue cap

Who gives a sun-fair grin…

 

And always she likes her tits pinched and bit,

But not too hard or she'll scream ---

And just when it seems she can't take anymore,

She'll enter your dream for just a little bit more…

 

Then she'll kiss freckles soft in morning air,

As goose bumps prickle her flesh,

And soft brown curls of a soft boy brush

Against the hair that has fallen across her forehead…

                                           ---N. Marie

 


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