baby


my baby tames everybody
making them understand
that our love is edited daily,
exactly as it happens today
written with a fruity accent
in the language of flowers
and golden ink of the sun
on blue sheets of the sea
metamorphosed by sirens
through a passionately kiss
sealed with adamantium
©ᵏᴼᵏᴼ ↭ un p’tit je ne sais quoi

Bishop Briggs

nice work if you can get it


I know that intentionally, you made me forget my grammar
by coming with the recipe for only one medication, — Love!
And the problem with the warning scheme was simple… —
both, the cure and adverse reactions offered wings to travel
thru the air of fantasy, enough to find some beautiful visions
and to make me reborn in your whispers when you carry me
on your mind, as if I’d be a little girl in the poetry’s drugstore
not the kind of cool town woman who takes out your breath
and does nice work if you can get it, my jazzy in your blood.

©ᵏᴼᵏᴼ ↭ un p’tit je ne sais quoi

[source📸 google images]

Tony Joe White
Tony Bennett • Diana Krall

kiss kiss bang bang


I hid some kisses in the deepest inner maze of your eardrum
then I filled it with music and few witty words highly heard
in any language, sufficiently for my tongue and yours to can
replace any tone, any consonant, and syllable, for we to melt
in any new/old suspiration invented and storied by both of us
into multitudes of our fire and joy carved by our desires using
beastly sensual hues fueled with many other slippery sounds
inside of our mutual lusts and a kiss-kiss-bang-bang volume
©ᵏᴼᵏᴼ ↭ un p’tit je ne sais quoi

The Eden House

blues won’t leave me alone


a number of whispers walk unhindered 
thru the searching realm of my mind 
 
they are looking for touching memories 
in deeds, without end and beginning 
 
every time when it happens, I’m busted in; 
never [the blues won’t leave me alone
✓✍🏻 ;₎₎ 
un p’tit je ne sais quoi © ᵏᴼᵏᴼ 
🖌Sarah Fecteau
 
RSO ♪

ᵉᵛⁱˡ mama


your own you, out of my own asset
is the synonym with the way you love me,
is the anatomy of an imaginary hug,
is our unconsumed touch,
is your way to caress me
with a soften appellative, ᵉᵛⁱˡ mama
is the combination of both of us,
the composers of happiness, —
me too time too time too… you…

©ᵏᴼᵏᴼ ↭ un p’tit je ne sais quoi

Joe Bonamassa

The 1975

taste


it seems like you’ve been calling my mind
in your sweet poisoning touching me and
making me savoring each sensation because
the dream has to be again contoured into the
power of the velvet sheets molded splendidly
through the suspired taste of our whispers
©ᵏᴼᵏᴼ ↭ un p’tit je ne sais quoi
Nic Clay │ Spooky Marvin

body blues…


an unstoppable artistical silhouette 
[it’s mine, not yours] 
 
a frisson into body blues concealed 
[that’s yours, not mine] 
 
dream-makers are drawing the mood 
[eagerness has charm] 
 
any thought into my dreamt dreams 
[prove it be what I need now] 
 
loving you, loving me is not fantasy, 
[even if seems all about it
✓✍🏻 ;₎₎ 
Damon Castillo ♪

i’m so in love with you


don’t ask yourself… why, 
but just think why not¿?
©ᵏᴼᵏᴼ ↭ un p’tit je ne sais quoi
Steelheart

Lara Fabian


«Have you ever faced an ocean
Though you hadn’t any notion how to swim 
But you jumped in anyway
Have you ever kissed a lover
Knowing that his heart was broken and damaged
But you held him anyway?
Leap of faith
Growing wings
On the way down
Before you hit the ground
Have you wandered in the desert
While the sands were ever-changing but the winds
Guide you anyway
Have you spoken in a language
That you’ve never heard before but your memory
Understands it anyway
Leap of faith
Growing wings
On the way down
Before you hit the ground
I’m growing wings now…»

deep


mmm… I have a mad urge for Sicilian blood orange…
a crazy impulse to feel the flavored juice on my lips,
to get drunk with its scent for making my soul dance
and my spirit be deeply deep stimulated all day long

©ᵏᴼᵏᴼ ↭ un p’tit je ne sais quoi

The Moody Blues

loving you


You don’t possess so many howlings of the wolves
for how much silence of the moon, it is in me, when
with tiptoes of your thoughts, you sneaked in mine.

You don’t possess so many forests which you’d been
wishing grown em in your soul to make me somehow
lose myself, to feel what means blood pulse of yours.

You don’t possess so-so or too much time to be enough
to you, when your whispers burn my lips with verses without
rimes because again, today, they’re longing for your kiss.

You don’t possess nor even curses to snatch me out of any
fantasy, where seems I’m laying there about ever forever,
waiting frantically for you to love me as you promised.

You don’t possess even tomorrow for how I’m loving you
right now, — into a Monday or a Tuesday, a Wednesday,
Thursday or a Friday and Saturday to not forget about of
Sunday, when you’re to me so cold or too-too passional.
©ᵏᴼᵏᴼ ↭ un p’tit je ne sais quoi 

Jonathan Wilson │ Editors

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