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Break All the Rules Burn All the Handbooks

Danielle An’Mai

You are kindly asked that in lieu of flowers to do what is unexpected.
Access your humanity without
going through proper channels and preliminary emails.
And should you feel the compulsion to review emotions prior to selection,
pause for a moment and consider the wide panorama of range and
the impracticality of organised confinement even
with the best of intentions.
Acceptable constructs have diabolical aftermath.
Restrained polite smiles are given
but nobody wants to clean that mess up.
By the power vested in me,
I would sledgehammer philosophical indoctrinations
to reveal an unfiltered mind and
lounge with lasciviousness around thoughts so fleeting but full of ethereal fire.
I’d interrupt the DJ in the middle of the jam for
an adjustment to bass, treble, and isolation
of cardiac rhythm at unsafe decibels.
Slow dance pressed against the beating drum of your pulse,
swaying like my very existence depended on it,
because shhhh!
It really does.
Free from standard operating procedures,
I graciously entertain your soul for dinner
giving assurances that all chakras are mesmerising and
spinning just fine since
attraction cannot lose any part inextricably connected to source and
is unequivocally accepted as the vibration everyone wants to caress.
Desired above all else across the ethers,
at some point portals align and
open and I commit essence to ecstasy craving
infinite pleasures untold
while refusing to sign the guestbook and be a willing participant.
Contractual agreements are a waste of time
when it’s my support base that captures eyes
drawing your sweetness a little to the left
with no terms and conditions and a transaction that I,
honest to unrestrained anticipation,
guarantee will never be recorded.

 



This poem was previously published on Vocal Media.

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