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Ezra Vancil Poem
The softest part of a woman
Is not where you may think
Behind the ears
in the mouth
or lips of petal pink
inside the knee
inner thigh
you still have not to find
the tender place…
it’s not her face
or curve against the spine
her finger tips
bloom of hips
the nipple, or the eyes
beneath the breast
just a test
to know you really tried
a trick you say!
if not the cradled
skin between the toes
a game to play
who finds the way?
who can really know?
The softest part of a woman though
is nowhere you can touch
with fingertips
or open lips
it’s nothing of the such
Emotion…
you might say above
is everything she lives
but not just love
and then it is
her willingness to give
Copyright © Ezra Vancil | Year Posted 2005
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Ezra Vancil Poem
rip open my chest
look inside, dig around
flesh, bone, bloody mess
knife cutting down
search every inch
bellow the stomach, spline
my hands are drenched
in fluid and cream
Slice open the pipes
cut off the air
I’d rather die
than live this share
It must be inside
I feel it so much
Something that slides
avoiding the touch
If I could cut
straight through the muscle
into that hole
hear it russell
against my back bone
clenching with threat
sitting like stones
I’ll cast it a net
Damn the liver
it gets in the way
I must see what it is
something must pay
Don’t stop at the lungs
it wraps them tight
it hides and it runs
needing no light
cut open my chest
from forward to side
cut this death
leave it no where to hide
It steels all the grace
I beg for at night
and leaves me a taste
of evil’s delight
If I could just look in
feel it and touch
the misery friend
i wish I could clutch
hold it out high
for all to see
this is what life
has made of me
Copyright © Ezra Vancil | Year Posted 2012
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Ezra Vancil Poem
I wanna spread you thin,
creamy, on a bagel
toasted
fresh
hot
savor each bite
lick you off -
my fingers
the corner of my mouth…
I’ll leave a bit to make you laugh.
Save it for later
I’ll say it’s a snack
if I get hungry before I get back
I wanna sauté you in garlic
…with peppers - hot
salt..
cheese..
the flavor in oil
infuse with your leaves
over a salad.. inside a soup
tomatoes
red onions
brown rice.. a scoop
not to dilute
or over power
the taste of your skin
lightly
dusted in flour
sizzle and pop
drizzle a dop
I’d make you a doughnut
if I were a cop
or better yet
I think an éclair
cream in the middle
squeeze you right there
in a coffee cup
some on my chin
lick it off
…and squeeze you again
I wanna bake you in broth
400 degrees
wine
sauce
caper goat cheese
stuff you with seafood
potatoes
brie
serve you with scallops
fresh from the sea.
reduce you to thickened,
sauce made with cream
jiggle your gravy
poach you and steam
fry you in butter
sugar your spleen!
I’m stuffed...your love
feast for a king
Copyright © Ezra Vancil | Year Posted 2005
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Ezra Vancil Poem
I loose my self
in myself
and fear
often times
I disappear
not always so
as youth
as man
young the heart
i still could stand
outside gates
in every core
but weak
I hide now
close the door
peer out through
the looming night
see the man
who sits outside
empty of
his other part
hiding in
the lonely heart
I loose my self
and then I fear
you've lost a part
of me
in tears
one drop containing
each a piece
of what you thought
your love would be
I fail
I will, be lost sometimes
gone in fancies
of my crime
penance for
and from the slave
I am now, lost
in other days
I fear
too often
worry much
ten million thoughts
I can not clutch
like a fighter
seeing three
head shot punch
witch one is me
I loose myself
myself I fear
will loose you
when I disappear
Copyright © Ezra Vancil | Year Posted 2005
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Ezra Vancil Poem
medicine
grant me grace
walking through
this ghost of faith
burn the edge
of my desire
numb the burn
red of fire
medicine
my dullest friend
let me wake
and sleep again
blur my fate
bring me low
humble quiet
liquid soul
medicine
dream no more
search not of
look not for
passion's gate
deep within
dreams will float
a lake of sin
medicine
oh life unsure
blurring days
a quiet cure
yes I thought
more in youth
now a lie
blessed truth
medicine
your will is mine
live between
space of time
bring me forth
heaven's gate
lacking love's
forgiven hate
Copyright © Ezra Vancil | Year Posted 2007
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Ezra Vancil Poem
I Lay in bed
coffee
smoke
My dreams didn’t start
till the moment I woke
I’ve been awake
wash
eat
I dressed for work
but just couldn’t leave
you brush a hand across my chest
unaware of my restlessness
fluttering eyes
dream
lay
your ears are uncovered
do you hear what I say
whisper love
touch
purr
a kiss to your breast
a naked stir
you brush a hand across my chest
unaware of my restlessness
covers removed
deep
arc
I trace the spine
to the back of your heart
close my eyes
tongue
lips
I make a line
to curve of your hips
you brush a hand across my chest
unaware of my restlessness
stir and stretch
stretch
yawn
you open your eyes
to find I was gone
you Lay in bed
coffee
smoke
your dreams didn’t start
till the moment I woke
Copyright © Ezra Vancil | Year Posted 2005
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Ezra Vancil Poem
My daughter, my Queen
as Solomon said, you are above
the crown on my head
from rubble and stone
gates for a throne
Queen, daughter, Queen
mysterious home
of pride and lust
forgive me intrust
not what man will give
but take what you must
Power you wield
no doubt in my vein
the blood that is cold
in warmth you will claim
what is your position
with faith as a seed
man whose fruition
is boasting to bleed
my Queen my throne
thorn in my head
blessed of water
ancient we shed
blackened cough
scares in the skin
Queen have you paid
too much for a sin
remember the garden
fruit of the sun
you offered me there
a kingdom undone
naked your breast
no temple of shame
I took of your fruit
gave you my name
Queen prophetic
knowing us so
Why you embrace
our invisible soul
sure, God willed
or something the same
man of the dust
woman the rain
Queen of a temple
so Godless, until
Queen, oh my daughter
your blossom would heal
Copyright © Ezra Vancil | Year Posted 2007
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Ezra Vancil Poem
Her breast they weigh
on thin blouse - flush
no restraint
against the shoulder - brush
a gentleman’s heart, breath
(thus)
a woman’s breast
we’re born to Trust
Copyright © Ezra Vancil | Year Posted 2005
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Ezra Vancil Poem
Have you seen the movie
you know the one
Woody Allen,
the call girl, son
That’s my favorite
Mango
sauce,
sushi
sashimi
land of the lost
bad Santa, Will Farrell
Italian singers,
Bach,
Beethoven
your little fingers
Try this salad
Thai and sweet
I’m getting fat
what shall we eat
Chianti is good
neath these lights
sangria, and chili
lets cook tonight
have you read this book
War and Peace
I wanted to, someday
but wait for me
we’ll read each chapter
a verse in our bed
have you read
Gabriel Marquez
I’m feeling depressed
in one of my moods
coffee is best
when laying with you
Blender
high speed
look at it go
garlic
oil
oregano
make me a drink
the one that I like
Mexican food sounds good tonight
I love the feel
the look of this bar
shadows
light
particular charm
tell me that joke
tell it to him
the Scottish one
to my Scottish friend
Lets get a boat
fly a kite
go to new york
stay up all night
God is agape
do you know what that means
real Chili, you know
doesn’t have beans
I had a dream
It made me so angry
I don’t like Tabasco
on chicken fried gravy
Damn that’s hot,
I’m starting to cry
quit rubb’n your chin
without you I’d die
after we kiss
how far do we go
your driving is crazy
stay on the road
I think I have loved you
all of my life
my mother was his
birth midwife
chop up the garlic
pour me some wine
I think vinyl siding,
a capitol crime
wood
floors
solid
doors
a big back yard
a book case of course
can’t answer my phone
I’m quiet today
you know how I get
all there or away
buffalo burgers
tawaka and fries
”the best in the world”
ya right, that’s a lie!
But I do like these chips
take a picture with one
cashews from India
or Vietnam
drink your water
I swear that I will
you never told me that water can kill!!
tomatoes, fresh
I’ll pay with my cash
I love you so much I could (censord) !
Copyright © Ezra Vancil | Year Posted 2005
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Ezra Vancil Poem
Halli, said
what a amazing day
on text
it's hailing
grey
the pressure of the atmosphere
I picture her
in a frame
Looking from windows,
reading a book
a slight chill from
thunder,
Starting at the lower
Arc of her spine
bringing forth
Peace, from weather
wine
atmosphere
biometric air compressed
effecting chemistry
reads Plato
I imagine,
or a hundred years
What pain endured
What truth we fear
for perfect days
windows reveal
the hidden plan
The skill
Of man's
Father, maker
proven hand
undertaker
Halli, as we walk,
a house
peeks inside, I stare
She sees
the books, on shelves
Deconstructs
dreams, We tell
Try to listen
look - See
She, the makers art in me
Copyright © Ezra Vancil | Year Posted 2005
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