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Kiss Me (Draft 1)

Kiss Me

Kiss me now
that I am in
your endless dreams.

I love when you tickle me ’cause
I am so sad and when I laugh

I think that you will save us,
’cause endless am I in my dreams
of you and me.

Kiss me now, because
I am playful, and

we have such
a good game.

I want to play you
because I think

we can be an
innocent game
of love.

— Douglas Gilbert

The Color of an Explosion (Draft 1)

The Color of an Explosion

[I don’t know what to do with this “reaction poem”. I was going to let Zawmb’yee Nuje write it, but I think it’s general enough to be from imaginary me.]

When happiness captures me
I glow with the force of a fuse

and ‘Love not’ explodes in my face;
dear friend I am in a crater.

I wish I had great news
of found happiness
and love, but

I think I’m destined for
a sad and lonely life.

Dear friend
be cheerful, because

je ne sais quoi, and
all that Jazz yeah

dance for me, and
let the sun rise in
scene seen colors

— Douglas Gilbert

It Only Takes a Word To Conquer

It Only Takes a Word To Conquer (Draft 5)

I will conquer them
with diplomacy, mere
words and contagion will
sneeze our conspiracy into
the air of their glamorous
glistening ball room.

My team offers
smooth and soothing persiflage
oozing our pus into their lungs; they

breath our loquacious anesthesia,
lilac scents of sensible chatter
(but their pusillanimous odor
repels us like a corpse flower).

We know the rituals we must
perform to hide the dagger
and dance for the pompous
who court us like
children at proms.

Weakening the enemy, we
send in our smarmy army, knowing
a cocktail or two will do
to suck out a bit of brain
through a tin ear that
hears only flattery.

They do not know
there will be blood
even for the elite.

My unctuous Ambassador
is slick, not anxious, and
he easily wheedles out
a disarmament treaty
holding his nose
against the stench
of decadence.

We wait for the fools to
celebrate their papers, and now
when their guard is down

our daggers slaughter,
as in ancient times, and

I demand
those not dead must be
obsequious, and
happy to be
our new slaves.

— Douglas Gilbert