A visual, truthful ode to ‘Wanderlust’ (definition: a strong desire for or impulse to wander or travel and explore the world). This project combined visual artists, a photographer, a fellow poet and a mood-setting, melodic music score (all contributors available in the credits).
If you lack substance, you and I lack longevity,
My dreams take place in New York
Where forks rest, entangled in tastes from Mounted dishes of fish tacos, giros and deli sides,
My fantasies reside in Cairo to Castries,
Markets and Marrakesh to Marigot Bay’s trees,
Erogenous escapes bring ease to me; I said erogenous escapes bring ease.
My tongue longs for Espanol,
My body does nothing but mount and rush more,
As my limbs do nada but love, lust for,
More, and more, of you.
Straddling air plane aisles, wishes galore for you,
You could have me reduced, juiced, ripe, raw for you.
Head in clouds, thoughts loud
As I suffocate,
Legs still aroused,
But routine gets degenerate.
Nothing satisfies me, or gratifies me
Too exclusive to be used in imprisoning waste.
I’d rather- be anywhere but here,
Wishing away time is wasteful yet I wish away years,
So repetitive my residence across the pond, fear
Waking up to swallowed time
And regurgitated arrears, or regrets.
Constructed to camouflage in cultures where warmth woos flesh
Fantasize about feasting on culinary Marrakesh,
Sand sliding between dancing fingers,
Head tied, heels high
Hands throw peace and prayer signs as ocean mist lingers.
Been described as mother nature in heels- inches plus five,
Skin wasn’t made to fade or blend with sunless skies,
Rear, made to be appreciated where Western customs aren’t applied,
Erogenous escapes are what I’m vitalized by.
I star-gaze in Sao Paulo,
Climax at the fact that several continents
Compliment and keep me content
Yet everything else I’ll always circumvent,
Walk around head in the clouds wondering where golden age went,
Why profuse music you could seek refuge in, is no longer relevant.
So I satisfy my old soul
Gratify, young body,
Aching mind- alone
Seeking creativity as my reservoir, artistry my home.
Faithful to only you.
Tasteful only for us two,
Nothing more I’d prefer to divulge, disclose, dissolve and devour than you,
Cannot count the amount of times that I’ve gone rounds, up downs, in, out’s with you.
The blessing I’m most faithful to.
Nymph-like Nomad: Woman of the world
My imagination always elsewhere as a girl,
My mind always air bound, left toes curled,
Body here in present, serotonin spent
On the fact that my heart belongs in a different continent…
I shouldn’t be constrained and contained by currency,
Class, corrupt constitutions or where visas permits,
So I uphold my blessed curse- worth every touch of…
Author: L Riquez