Even if I were the one
diagnosed with something epic,
instead of a girl in Hawaii
I guess I’d still ask
if you wanted to write to me
for however long
it took me to rearrange my life.
Today I guess I’m ready
to listen to your diagnosis
I’ll probably stop you
50 times or more.
I’m telling you now
I’m not going to take the news
with the grace and dignity
you want to hear.
I’m going to lash out with anger
how could you?
It’s not going to be all pretty
Our one and only rule
that no crying thing
still stands, because I can’t today
break into a bunch of little pieces.
Maybe it’s therapeutic
we talk about the diagnosis
the treatment plan
the drugs you’ll take
and then be alone inside your head.
For the past year and a half
you’ve made it
to witness a virus
that changes the tables
and puts us
in your position.
We cover our faces in public
afraid of the dreaded germs
if we get this
and you survive
The beauty in life
we never know
when change is going to happen.
I think it’s time
you take up the mantle
help us get through this quarantine
putting everything back to normal
we could talk about that diagnosis.
Even if I were the one
Tell Me again
how many times
you’d spread yourself,
like some blessed thin layer
offering yourself to others?
In the curve of the left arm
she held the needle still
eyes were locked into eyes,
In an instant
the fire was lit
so alive now
burning white hot.
One must admit
to have been blind before,
with the fight or flight feeling inside.
How does one decide
to simply stand put
or to run and get away?
The girl is missed
words can’t fully explain
why she couldn’t feel,
she was injecting
into our veins.
The fact is
my love is an impossible task
like a half-assed look or glance.
Oh this must of meant
I wasn’t all that interested,
when in fact, my attention is yours.
Of course, I’ll do whatever
whenever I am forced
even if that meant
I’d have to use a pair of sterile hands
to crawl on the muddied floor.
Come super close,
if you want me still,
I can exclusively promise
to be exclusively yours.
Let my words draw you in
or so someone asks
how do I feel truthfully about you?
Contrary to love’s romantic theory
there is something about
having love to be earned.
A lifetime of carrying
all your devotion around.
Perhaps this unplanned encounter
is the divine intervention
all the prayers are about.
Bless us father
for the sin is equally ours
on this, our late night hour.
to an upturned chin
too long have you stood at that door.
Waiting on yesterday still,
here are your exclusive words
simply said in a way
that only you could decipher or name.
Yes it is your perfume
that gets my attention to turn
in the air that still hangs
it forces me to remember
how your name felt
coming from my mouth.
My mouth, you used to live there
hanging on every syllable
said in the cup of your ear.
Soft and gentle tingles
clearly, you still remember
last night in the rain
it was your forever moment.
Lonely are the kisses today
planted on an upturned chin.
Underweight, my words
seem a little anemic
when compared to the bloated world
that surrounds me here.
I feel the temperature in my throat
it’s almost time to take you
to that sacred place.
Retreat with me
I’ll keep your head afloat
slightly above the rim.
I won’t let you drown
under the weight of expectation.
I’ll simply ask for your arm
a stable place to hold onto
while we carry on whispering
our favorite words in songs, lyrics.
Together we’ll explore
the glorious drug of love
this time though it will be outside
in nature for everyone to see.
Those heavy drawn-out kisses
are perfectly obnoxious
others will turn away
I’ll rake against your skin
leaving possession marks.
After a while,
people will forget,
and begin to ignore us, besides
the music would be too loud.
It’s probably the sunshine here,
this euphoria from the bluest sky
the seasons have promised to come,
and they’ve arrived alongside you
with a burst of beauty.
The transition from the cold and dreary
to the warm luscious growth
filled with the scent of mating.
Everything has one real goal
here with exact timing.
Let’s go outside and join them
the insertion of pollen on body parts
weighing our travel down.
Getting inside and between the petals
the love-sick drive of the flower
a single stigma draws us closely in,
heavy with desire, this dance
the anther explodes and deposits
the brilliant yellow pollen.
We take that experience
and carry it to the next, and so on.
We can go from flowerbed to flowerbed
help to pollinate the exploding acre
until the next seasonal change.
I can’t sleep
until I’ve come here
and knocked on this door
to try and wake you
We haven’t met,
yet I can describe you
in exacting detail.
My lover is already in me,
I am not seeking you,
but merely waiting
on a chance meeting
in order to be in awe
and inspired by you.
I listen for your voice,
so I’ll know you
by the words
and phrases you use
already alive in me.
I am in love you
and have been,
it’s been years of this,
our two voices mixed,
so that when we shed
our old skins
we will change
and truly be one.
For now though,
I am content in knowing
you’re alive and well in me,
so when we do meet,
you’ll begin to see for yourself
I have been alive and well in you,
and this is the reason
for all the words.
might never be seen,
yet they’re here already
thriving in all of us,
because there are truths
that already exist.
Nature’s laws surround
all of us, in fact,
we just need
to teach ourselves
how to listen, how to
react to them.
comes from the source.
I don’t mind waiting
on a certain kind of girl.
She turns, her smile escapes
and my mind goes blank.
I’ve never seen this
kind of look before
when she put her eyes
squarely on me.
She claimed the words
were all hers.
I want more time,
from that side of town
where it was always easier
to disappear in and behind her.
I didn’t know
what life is like
without her perfume
to remind me
exactly where she’d been
or where she’s going.
It’s hard living
making time for myself.
Time and attention
fight the addiction of her,
and it’s now all backfilled
I’m here tripping over myself.
Stripped and left naked,
left with feelings and
fantastic sex with her
almost always a surprise.
I like watching
my eyes can’t get enough
Sentimental summer trees
stare without their leaves
way up there
in the heavy sky,
to soak us both.
I know how much
you love me,
trust me, when I say
I’ve properly prayed
for a girl like you.
about you and I suppose
in all the superficial minutes
that create memories
of me and you
it’s dangerous to love this much.
To love just one person this much.
My heart hurts and bleeds
it’s not only on my sleeve, but
splattered on the wall,
soaked in all these pages,
I don’t mind
as long as you love me.
It’s a long fall
from this high feeling
I get from you,
trust when I say
I’d rather be alone
waiting on a schedule
I made for myself
rather than getting hurt
by some insecure thought
I can’t control
from calling names
and you shut off
don’t do that to me.
It all feels and sounds
good right now,
just promise me that,
you’ll keep flipping the lights
on and off
no matter how times
it takes me to see
during the night or day.
Remember my love is blind
it’s a torture device
I can’t help myself
from thinking if
you feel the same way?
I need your songs.
When colors fade
from old photographs
life’s timeline is hard to ignore.
Maybe memories work the same,
with time against them
it’s hard to recall,
just exactly how you sounded
or replied when we spoke.
In all those old photographs,
I’m your age now,
I guess time travel
is actually possible.
The hour now,
is still really early
I keep a bottle of your perfume
close to me
scent is the strongest
I missed what was left
in our future lives,
to see us both through today’s filters.
Maybe it’s better this way
finding this old box
of faded photographs and 8mm tapes.
I remember how proud you were
when we were the first ones
to have this fancy video tape machine
a futuristic device with no sound.
The events sped by faster then
from what I remember now.
A community pool party
when backyard BBQ’s
were a big thing back then
when we were learning to swim
with our over inflated water wings.
I wonder what you’d think
watching all of us now
lost in our own digital worlds
in the palms of our hands, cell phones.
There’s a filter to make
our recorders look old w no sound.
I wonder if,
we’ll ever be that proud again
to gather everyone and show them
some new piece of technology?
Now, people still gather around,
as a family or whatever
never to worry
that our digital photographs
will ever fade or deteriorate
in some old box
in the attic.
I can’t quite express
with all due respect
this feeling I get
when I crawl inside
and begin to write.
I hope not
to bore you
my euphoric joy
lasting adequately enough
in order to
get everything out.
Words to me
simple or otherwise.
or subtle rhyme
mixed and gathered
put on the screen
the balance teeters
it’s hard to capture time.
For a large part of my life
I struggled with literacy,
sometimes it bothered me
I couldn’t just write,
words without effort.
After all and seriously
I paid time to the craft
is it reasonable to care
all this much?
A Warrior Spirit
lives in this space
a soliloquy of thoughts
I’m perfectly full.
Content inner voice
stringing word, after word,
for giving back
your time and attention.
read every line
scouring every inch
appreciating the craft.
There aren’t many people
who could match my intensity,
it’s been easy loving you.
A better part of me
fell over and landed upside down
that piece mixed with you.
There are laws of attraction
you intrinsically make us love,
by asking without questions,
it’s something in your eyes,
the way you look so colorful.
When you stand by my side
and get busy working
on the task at hand.
With no complaints on the wall
I can’t help myself,
but to give you the world.
In other words,
you’re the only thing to me
that matters most,
on those days,
when the sun refuses
to come and shine
I can count on your way
your loving smile
the very nature of you
it’s an intrinsic compliment
to be loved in return.
Getting to the stairwell
the rain threatens to strike us all,
even if it hasn’t actually touched us yet
we’re ready for its downpour.
I can feel you squeezing
pulling me into a crevice.
Questions come because the sky is so dark
I am all out of breath,
it’s hard to answer when I’m staring
you’re the only thing blocking me
beautiful you, you’re all I see.
Shame on you for showing up
upsetting the balance in my life
taking from all the pretty flowers
in the field next to my bedroom window.
It took months of planning
to get the bulbs through all the seasons,
cold sensitive frost bitten nights,
and now this threatening rain.
The delicate gems are coming up,
rebirth and love in covered in happiness.
This is a throwback time for sure,
but here you are, shame on you
being so beautiful. You can’t tell me
you haven’t noticed it too. Far from eyes
maybe I’m the only one
who sees you in this light, but then again,
most of my life I’ve searched for beauty.
Beautiful you, I am thankful to have you
I may not need flowers anymore.
I’m careful what I want you to be in life,
it’s senseless to think I could love
anyone more than this right here.
It’s obviously a crazy kind of dangerous
to put so much faith in someone
other than myself, but here you are
my sweet sensation with tattoos.
Eventually everything fades,
except these feelings that light up
and spark all motivation to get to you.
In 100 years when we’re long gone
someone is bound to find these words
a digital diary of sorts chronicling
how surprised I ever was
by someone so beautiful
that asked me to write.
Beneath a night of mostly cold skies,
I turned to face the girl and gave the look.
She knew exactly what I wanted coming
from her against this frigid night.
We were standing
near trees without leaves, freezing.
She puts her hands in my pockets, smiled.
The three layers mean’t I wouldn’t feel her
attempt at warming frozen hands on me.
She smiled, as if she thought of this first.
In the loud quiet of the streets, we talked,
let’s go home and take a hot bath.
In fact, I’ll kneel outside and soap you off
while you, read our favorite book.
There were errands first though,
we couldn’t have another wasted trip.
The first stop, she needed new panties.
She can’t figure out why they all go at once.
Excited, because I get to pick them out,
of course, there are sensible choices,
not just the boy lustful ones. She wanted
boy-cut, hi- hip or bikini strap, no thongs.
We slink through the store, at one point
she’s softly dancing to Billy Idol’s, Rebel Yell
the only part she actually sings is,
‘Yes Sir. Yes Sir. Yes Sir. Yes Sir.’
She smiles and whispers,
‘She wants. More. More. More.’
The point firmly established, I walk
with fists in pockets hiding her.
Driving home with the girl was dangerous,
her curves made conditions a little nervous
the sharp turns, my hand in her lap
undoing a center clasp, the car protested.
The music on the radio was crying in pain.
She wanted out of her high wasted jeans.
Pulling into the drive, some lights
were purposely left on, she ran inside.
I collected her trail or her way of travel.
The downstairs was littered with articles.
A kitchen cabinet had been searched,
set of cranberry candles were missing.
The dog came running down the stairs,
still super excited, he pointed the way
her perfume and alcohol filled the air.
She couldn’t wait until I was there,
underneath the crack of the door
the room softly flickered to a playlist.
This might of been her plan all along,
the water in the tub was being drawn.
A deep glittered blue of unfolding salts
were bleeding the water as it filled.
I knocked and waited to be invited in,
in a neat little corner was a towel.
She knelt on a foot square of softness,
undressing the moment, the playlist
kept perfect step with her hands.
Looking up, she pressed her body forward,
that brilliant smile glistened with want.
The room, water and our bodies
were all the same temperature. She kissed
from that downward position and it was
all together, something a little different.
I eventually lost my balance. Fell into her,
she fell onto me, inside, the water spilled.
We might have ruined the floor because
the downstairs neighbor was protesting.
The loud sounds coming at us, we thought
was our playlist just a little too loud,
after all, I couldn’t stop the girl climbing,
the water splashed pretty bad in fact
it knocked 2 out of 3 candles out.
I’m sorry about last tonight, she begged,
with the downstairs neighbor for an hour,
‘Just don’t let it happen again, alright?’
She winked promising,
The new steps take hold of me.
I stand here in front of you,
you listen from behind your door.
Crying on this side of mercy
do you promise you’ll pray with me?
I promise I’ve been praying since the start,
since we were set free from brutal hands.
The harsh air consumed my voice,
it never meant I wasn’t there with you
I was there right alongside you my brother.
The waves reached us both
consumed and touched the both of us.
Don’t think for a moment
I’m not your keeper, my brother.
Slam the door if you need or must
silence yourself away from us.
I know what it means to try against odds
have mercy on me, my brother.
I’m right here standing behind the door
that was obviously shut on both of us.
When we were young in our room
hiding underneath blankets, the waves
crashed around heavily and we were innocent,
children back then, who started this
cycle that rained down and slammed
down on both of us. We should have
been promised unconditional love
no matter what life handed out.
We’re men now, my brother
loving our children unconditionally
there aren’t doors to hide behind.
We love them openly, we prop them up
cherish all their moments together.
Remember, that without our childhood
we might not of known what a door sounds like
when it’s slammed down and the waves
come raining down on our backs.
We pray for mercy in our hearts,
pray brother, step with me through the door
that can’t hurt us now.
Share love, give and it will return
in equal measure. Share love, my brother.
My nights are spent with her
we’re high in these blue skies.
No pain, she offers herself as my drug,
without any hesitation I take heavy sips.
Her skin is sprinkled with glitter, it shines,
she tastes like flowered perfume.
Everything about her is subtle,
eyes melt naturally by her expressions.
Eyes on fire, they burn with love,
she’s trying to hurry to get inside.
She can feel something is planned,
she can’t be her typical late self.
For now though, the sun change is helping
giving her about an hour of extra time.
We’re all headed to her place, in turn,
I want her to be happy and shine tonight.
Standing in the dead center of her room,
it’s hard being in all her clutter,
it’s funny what we choose to ignore.
She smoothes the corners of my half smile,
her wet hands are perpetually filthy.
She makes sure I look the part,
she spits in her hands and then into
my hair using fingers as a comb.
I’m fine with her grooming techniques,
at least she cares what I wear and look like.
My one long-standing wish.
I’ve wished for her for years.
The hour is late and it’s secretly colder,
I can’t help but find her super pretty.
I know someday we’ll be together.
She asks if I can help, I accept her request
it’s Sunday and people want to get home.
She just needs a little practice,
standing on here her tiptoes
getting everyone gathered in one room.
We’re playing Piñata.
I turn to whisper words, she’s surprised
I remembered her birthday song.
I go into the ritual singing,
she closes my mouth shut.
When I insist I must, she turns,
and swings making the paper machete
explode all over the room.
The candy is mixed in with… Fuck it.
We crawl all over each other
the search for the tiny candies.
She sucks on her Vape pen, very delicately.
At first it’s all normal, until she requests
I take her pen. The others stop and watch.
This huge cloud of smoke engulfs,
I violently cough and spit my guts out.
Lungs and eyes burn, she swears
I’m being a sensitive baby, to stop it.
I hand back the contraption, the pen.
She takes her own deep inhale and stares
her celebration has clearly turned.
The main event, I bring in the cake
she balances the carving knife on the edge
she asks, “How big?”
With cake in hand I swore
I wouldn’t crush it on her, but after the pen
who could blame me if I wanted to
smash it in her hair and eye lashes.
I didn’t though, I simply celebrated politely.
I secretly held a grudge to smash it.
Come tomorrow though it’s a choice
me or the pen for real.
The streets were busy again
the unfamiliar rain causes almost everyone
to walk along arm in arm.
The sky has been threatening all day
we ignored the forecasts, yeah right,
we probably shouldn’t have, in introspect
this is the heavy hour for a downpour.
I’m approached by homeless girl,
“Do you have any extra guitar strings?”
Obviously, the strings are a miss,
but I do have $20, and I’m starving.
The dilemma, it was a genuine request
not for alcohol or drugs but guitar strings.
I’m not sure what I would have asked for
if I were homeless on a rainy night.
I promise the girl that I’ll return,
oh the irony, I’m looking for food
in order to get some change for guitar strings.
Perfect, a slice of pizza and a soda,
certainly enough to get full.
I hand the cashier a$20, I kid you not,
“I apologize, but I only have silver dollars for change. Is that ok?”
I’m sure it will buy her guitar strings,
with a couple of lbs of change, I return.
The rain is pouring buckets, everyone
homeless or otherwise are huddling
underneath the close building overhangs.
I reach my car, the homeless girl watches,
I wave for her to come over here.
Underneath my umbrella, I smell nicotine
I reach and hand her a fist of silver dollars.
The look in her eyes, she flipped each coin,
her reaction was reward enough.
“Use these coins to make magic”
she turned and said,
“Sir, I accept the challenge.”
she walked back to her encampment
still staring at her magic coins.
Her eyes are full,
expecting there to be news
she dragged her thumb
lazily across the screen.
There in our dimly lit room,
she mouthed a set of words,
she had obviously
practiced many times before.
Anxiety builds, the room goes quiet.
I swear I saw her lips move,
but sound didn’t register.
She stepped into view,
With her smile on hold
I was standing there,
I heard the word,
My smile reached hers.
In disbelief for sure,
it is too soon to tell
exactly what’s in our mind.
and I too, and in our fog
while playing hide-and-seek,
“I have something to tell you,”
that was the last thing
I remember her saying.
She said it again,
Her news on the phone,
so lazily towards me
that I reached for her,
she climbed up on my lap.
Anchored and ready,
she whispered the word again,
She walked up and even I’d admit
it was no accident, we fell into bed.
There’s something remarkable about
the girl and her powerful shoulders.
Powerful perhaps, the hours spent
doing her Yoga exercises twice a day.
Her long lean muscles, impossible really
never needed additional definition.
Of all things, it wasn’t her shoulders
that needed the extra support, but who
am I to say what the the girl needs, or
any girl for that matter, I’m just a poet.
At rest, her skin is flawless, glass smooth.
I draw these tiny little figures on her,
leaving red marks with fingernails.
She arches and pushes back, tracing harder
the tiny little figures, bleed.
She wants naturally rough hours,
in the sheets when we lay.
Each new episode of us falling into bed
there just happens to be an addition.
Something to push boundaries
naturally corners put her fists into place.
Knot-less loops, I wanted to see
how her shoulders would respond
to the looseness, she spun and said,
“Fucking tie them.”
Want vs Need.
The girl needed the power to shift
too pretty to take commands from others.
Something in her, is a little different,
she begs to beg to take her feelings away.
She doesn’t want soft kisses,
she goes to Yoga twice a day
to build her muscles so her shoulders
are strong enough
to lift us both.
Beautiful, it is hard to describe in detail
what it is I love most about you.
Is it hard to tell how hard I stare
into eyes that are stronger than my own?
Each night I come to find words,
I can’t help but notice the lyrics in songs,
sitting right in front of my face.
Ready to strike while the iron is hot,
you provide fire to flame, “You fit in me.”
Hiding between the pleasure and source
your closets are filled with many outfits.
You ask me to choose, “The choice is yours.”
I slowly go through each season, fabrics,
adorable and intricately designed.
Hand sewn sequence across glass beads,
she knows the one I’d want her to wear.
The romance, “You fit into me.”
For a second time those words appear.
She needs to be on top at first, finishing
what started on her hip.
The instructions ask if I want more of her.
Of course the words have no such answer.
Love and happiness mix in equal measure,
lust is always the truest victor in things.
One can’t just turn off the switch,
love burns this radiant hot,
what else is there to do?
I am in love with you.
You fit into me,
as I do to you.
The gifts come in streams
she reaches and asks for a pen
softly touching my arm, she says,
” I have to write a letter to my lover.”
Floating across the room, she turns,
with a button she slips from my shirt.
Bare bottom, by the time I reach her
the steam in shower envelopes the room.
A fog of sorts mixed with her perfume
there are secrets behind the curtain.
Her silhouette is the beautiful garden,
she bends to wash her toes.
Slowly drawn in, the water is too warm.
Her skin doesn’t seem to be bothered,
still the perfect hue, the water trickles
down and across her curves. Her shoulder,
pinned and anchored the mood returns.
Soap and a rich lather, hands slide easily in
muscles relax, time and attention spills.
The water softens the mood, the room
very softly spins. Over and to the edge
the sensitive flower wilts, the walls close in
around the silence, the water gently stops.
Out on heated floor tile, the moment comes
and is enveloped in sunbathed silence.
I reached, she handed me a towel,
outstretched over shoulders,
she dries me first.
Her perfect eye for detail, the perfectionist,
she controls the mood in the room.
In some perfect way she captured me
under no specific terms, I am free to love.
Dressed and ready, she reaches for my arm,
“Don’t forget this lover.”
She hands me her special note.
I didn’t see her coming
still, this is where she wants to shine.
My silhouette in the dark, it’s all hers.
She puts hers arms around my neck,
this time though, she starts to whisper
the lyrics from our playlists, undressed.
In the warm recesses, her curves
are a treasure map showing locations
to her positions that haven’t been touched.
The years ache for an epic discovery
here on the shores of her canopied bed.
I kneel to dig, I can feel I’m getting close
my love is hers, my hands search in vain.
I’m lightly touching the chest, it’s just as
she described when showing the map.
In exact detail, I was able to slide the
locking mechanism, to the open position.
A golden key was clasped around her neck.
I helped with her hair and carefully undid,
a skeleton that fit smoothly into the lock.
When reaching just the perfect depth,
everything clicked, the lid opened.
With wide eyes we both looked together,
the contents were neatly arranged.
Hours of treasures were to be discovered,
but first, her corset was put back on.
There in the pirates bed, plundered, looted
taken back to the bottom. Cleavage
surrendered, she gave back all position,
her heavy curls on shoulders, beautiful.
Even she knew her look was dangerous.
Tonight her shores
were going to be pounded.
She dropped her smile and disobeyed.
Begging for that tethered spanking,
she turned mentioning the favorite word.
Easily in her favorite position,
she misspoke on purpose, the reaction
was her turn on, she dug in
with her fists white knuckled into sheets,
fuck she was wanting. With a quick slap
the imprint was there on her bottom.
She immediately raised her ass,
She whispered “I’m not sorry.”
The next one was coming regardless,
but one should avoid begging to beg
especially being all that obvious.
Poor thing, she must have forgotten
I am ambidextrous.
My even stronger left hand was cold by ice,
the little peep she made, I knew it stung.
so I waited, she raised her ass again,
but this time her hands relaxed, no tongue.
I mirrored my second mark. She paused,
I put some ice against the burn,
she wiggled it off. Fuck I love this girl.
Again, she raised her ass, she was wet,
I reached underneath and lifted her higher.
The position changed, so the next one
just brushed against and caught her clit.
That was the spot, her ass did not lower
from there. I held her firmly by the hips.
What started slowly, corset strings pulled
pushing her hard into me, warm bottom
smacked against my thighs.
I reached underneath, pressing the point,
her clit got even harder, she squirted a bit.
Something about that wetness
made us collapse, all three floors
to the bottom, both breathing in unison.
She took my full weight on her tiny frame,
lifting her ass into Me. Those yoga lessons.
We came and collided into the rocky shore.
There on the ocean floor the treasure chest
arranged all neatly with its contents
she made for us, so next time
we’re gonna explore the Amazon.
Again, fuck I love her.
awake at night
they hold true grudges
they actually remember
from year to year
they’ll come to you.
a crowded city is ideal
it’s nice to be around them
they blend in
apartments don’t mind
these free spirits of nature
bringing beauty to the whole
a soft wind chime.
felines doing backflips
these birds love hard
clearing other species
they’re hard to fit in
when we want peace
our quiet is disrupted
they do not care
or mind they’re chasing
be careful of these birds
they’ll gang up.
one of creatures blessings
they’ll sing non-stop
we can count on their company
each season or two
and then they fly
to the Caribbean
warm and lush
calm on vacation.
I’m waiting all night
for you to end your bad week,
to finally log off, and fall asleep.
I’m secretly singing to you
making sure the lights aren’t too bright.
I love you, I swear to God I’m waiting
until you wake again to see if luck changes.
I’m singing our secret songs again.
All our other lives, don’t compare
to the one we’re living now.
Diamonds never meant much,
but after all this time, it’s time,
time opened your eyes.
I’m the one who loves you the most.
Today you’re going to be surprised.
I’m coming to marry you,
you won’t see me coming at all
because you’ve been way too tired to notice.
Imagine the touching, me there waiting,
come what may, each night your own night.
I could easily take all of this
and drop everything, after all,
I’m the one who loves you the most
jaded or otherwise.
I can’t think of a place
where I’m bent over kneeling
there in the snow asking for a hand
far off and isolated in Alaska.
I swear to God we could go to a crowded city, just listen,
before you pull it away, just listen.
I don’t think I’ve loved another person
more this way. I can’t stop listening
I write words and I know
it’s not all together normal, it’s my curse.
I get stuck thinking of the tiniest things.
I spend entirely way too much time
telling stories to people half way around the world
who are ultra kind to read them,
and I’m thankful. Thank you for your time and attention.
You are always on the tip of my tongue.
Say you’re willing to try, it’s change I know
that makes you sick and nervous.
I understand there are good things coming,
when we change things, I promise.
I’ll be there each night to kiss confidence
upside down or otherwise, I promise
there’s never going to be a better time
for you to wear this diamond
there on your left side, after all I know
I can promise you
love you the most.
On your down days, I promise
I’ll be by your side reading lyrics again
from songs we made in our playlists.
I can still see you coming for the speaker,
we used to play next to your bed.
Those perfect moments, time was different
I came to take you, I know, oh I know
I’m the one waiting with all the words now.
I promise I know all the songs
that’ll pick you up and make you smile.
Even if, it were just a little bit of a change.
At least we’d have have all our lyrics
from songs in our nostalgic days.
Together or alone, go somewhere quiet
listen to the songs through the night.
I don’t want you to cut your hair,
take all the time you need to inhale.
I promise not to bother you day or night.
I’ll walk far away so you can’t feel
yesterday and that old you.
Oh I wish you’d learn to breathe in again.
You and I could take turns sharing so I
could help your coughing.
Days could pass like dog years,
a 7 year session, inside seven years
with you, it would only take a moment
to love love you all over again.
Natural serenade of our night swimming.
Spending down weekends exploring
going from one old bed and breakfast
to a room with a massive spa tub.
I need you your love in me,
it’s a charge to see that sparkle
coming from your eyes, that jump when
you look again and our eyes are locked.
I’ve never felt that kind of release.
when I’m lifting you a couple feet
off the ground up on the edge.
We are almost eye to eye. I swear I’ll come
to find you to lift you up again.
I need to see you, to smell the spot
buried in the back of your earlobe
underneath your hair and neck.
When we’re midnight dancing
under Northern Lights,
quiet goes those colorful lights
always bouncing off your bedroom ceiling.
The winter cold never found our bodies.
The natural warmth came in waves
flooding and curling toes,
it was loud at times.
Words between us weren’t always clean
sometimes they were loud and filthy
our lyrics helped drown our sounds
it was natures beauty
picked from our playlists.
Hit me up if you fall
I could make things feel all better and good.
Simple promises by even simpler words
you can pay me back by rebounding,
let’s sit elbows to elbows at dinner
sharing conversations and the food.
It’s always about the food first,
followed by sex and dessert at 3am.
It’s better now that you’re out of my head
to my surprise the nighttime stars shine,
as tragic as the break up was, nothing
feels as good than this right here.
Sitting at the kitchen table connected
to myself thinking about siblings.
To be fair, I have crushingly successful sisters
who are driven to be the pillars
right alongside their brother who writes
the blessing or curse I guess depends
who’s interpreting the words.
Who knows, there might be someone
in a tropical place liking before reading.
Even she swears, the words are helpful,
but no more so, than the sunshine
after a week long downpour.
I wish I could meet everyone
who has been kind enough to read them.
The poems are meant for everyone,
that’s impossible and silly because
my perspective on the world
doesn’t come easy, in particular, describing
the same things in a million different ways.
Maybe I was put here to be placed in a ring
I’m competitive just enough to accept
whatever challenge that I’d
get lost in all the winning.
I assume the victories long before anything
has been formally accepted.
It’s a little too critical to think
we could have a passive passing
in the innocence of moving forward
my voice can easily go away,
but you’re stuck with my words
coincidental or by accident I sit here
watching Koi fish swim, and they were put there
so we could sit here and notice every move.
Just imagine being in that fishbowl,
always having eyes watching the missteps.
I need to hurry and shower, I’m late
she’s not going to understand
if I use the lame excuse
I was writing.
Don’t stand here next to me
the drop will be here in a few minutes.
The price being paid is unexpected,
a man approaches and offers to do it,
I refuse any and all help.
I’m standing anxiously at the exact spot,
the drop’s instructions were explicit.
Across my left shoulder is a strip bar
three heavily drunk men stagger,
the duffle bag is walking towards me,
the two intersect, and there’s a scuffle.
The drunk men run while carrying the bag.
Everything has gone horribly wrong,
they don’t seem to notice, I’m following.
Down a well lit alley they huddle
a lock is forbidding their entrance.
I turn and notice, my brother, frantic.
We meet eye to eye and I tell him to stop!
The street value was too steep to ignore
‘my brothers keeper’, those are the words.
My mouth fell open and I woke
from a nightmare that took some
convincing that it wasn’t really happening.
It’s been a while since we’ve spoken.
Left with the overwhelming feeling
my brother is mixed up in something.
I’m no longer his keeper, like I was
when we were younger.
It wouldn’t have mattered anyway,
he would have refused the help.
Desperately prideful, there are insecurities
come to find he’s homeless in his car.
The drop was perhaps his drug habit
that has stripped him of everything.
Living, surviving on the mean streets
his one and last possession was his mind,
unfortunately, it has been compromised.
Tragically too sad because this is now
two of my siblings that have been
taken down by the drug trade.
When need and want are mixed,
waiting on someone is impossible.
Just hurry and finish your shift,
she can easily feel the pressure too.
Living off tips, she’d freely give
her remaining tables away,
she can’t right now
there’s too much at stake.
One can’t always choose
the exact perfect direction to take.
The risk becomes even bigger
when new layers are added
because what was, would never exist today.
Some can cut and sew their own journey
creating a beautiful quilt
using all their special talents.
It takes a lot of energy
to make a name for yourself.
The lowest of all moments
can often push and trip up our days.
Those tepid hard images
still come flooding every Spring.
The girl knows she can’t always give
her honest elite opinion.
In the sum of the day,
most aren’t going to understand
why her tips are so important.
Especially today, with so many mouths to feed.
It’s no surprise she’s the best
always there with a smile.
Her eyes shimmer, it’s a first time for sure
all of us get excited with little things.
The days often sparkle
when they are memorialized by playlists.
Yesterday has become a forever moment,
but just like that, a lifetime commitment
can evaporate or be erased by change.
It has taken time to learn and remember
all the heavy steps to avoid.
One must step lightly
through all the narrow gaps and openings.
Those of us who learn how to tiptoe
unquestionably have the upper hand.
Please forgive my clumsiness,
my heavy handed finish, as I trip and fall.
I’m thankful for the moments
thankful for yesterday when the shine
completely blinded all good reason.
We love, to be loved in return.
Having all the little triggers
her obvious advantage
swelling and coming over me.
I easily tower over the girl,
seriously, she demands perfection
it’s not enough I’m that different.
Lately though, I’ve asked her
to pick it up and shower me.
Her one of a kind reply,
was a surprise by turning the tables.
She said didn’t see herself in the words.
I’m here to scream aloud
they’re hers alone,
the first time ever girl, still denies.
The words spread out from me,
bleeding all over these pages
could be written about anyone.
We pick and choose our paths
the places we’ll eventually land,
I question if she’s the one
who’s truly set to defend me.
The one you’d risk everything.
I should have never of asked
if you saw yourself in all my drawings.
The lesson learned,
begging to beg one too many times.
After all, she’s never the one to blame
it’s her kind of affirmation
that acts on my nervous emotions.
That blessed moment
when the drug hits the spoon,
going from the syringe into the vein.
There is only one other feeling
that switches and changes time so
I have no other real choice,
but to listen to her
when she says she doesn’t see herself
inside the tonnage of my writings.
Oh but the hours I’ve spent memorizing
her brilliant smile, drawing up close
these intimately forgotten memories.
I can’t help but notice
that nothing has changed.
It’s the first time ever
that I’ve come here to write
about flashpoint moment
that came from somewhere pure.
I’ve given away more than most would,
still, I love sitting on the edge of her bed
watching her date night ritual
keeping special notice on her jewelry.
Maybe she’ll wear that necklace.
A choker is divine too
handing over control
the black boots with hair pulled tightly.
Hands on hips riding
pushing down on the chest
getting close to that perfect angle
not to mention her
perfectly manicured nails
dig in as her center presses down.
The girl with the tiny body
flexes and tightens while getting rigid,
skyward her eyes dream,
I can clearly see her looking upward.
Something reminds her of the music
she plays along entertaining the moment
stepping up on the curb
pulling my shirt towards her kissing smile.
There are too many minutes
too many songs on playlists
to keep going, I ask for a break.
Through those late night hours
near 4am, instead of writing
she’d shift and make an offering
the outcomes were the same
every time, we were caught up in it
hands on hips riding again
that perfect angle as she gripped
spreading fingers wide
it was her truest moment.
Tiny sweat beads rolled down
the hard curve of her spine
always so muscled
spending hours working out
stretching in some crowded class.
This time though
she’s come full circle
suggesting my words might have her
being the center of attention.
All that exacting or true to the moment
kind of cryptic writing
could possibly mean
our late nights have an affect.
The candles and tiny dragonflies
adorned the dimly lit room.
The temptation of taking a hard sip
I can clearly hear her take a gulp.
Swallowing hard, the thirst
was always there.
She’d give herself in whatever way,
but it needed to be planned out.
Here we are all this time later
nothing has ever really changed.
It’s impossible without her,
but still, I’ll learn to pick it up
today I may get a minute with her.
A centimental kiss will miss
I’ll ask for something else
she loves the attention though
there’s something about a poet
longing for his muse.
Thinking we knew what life was like
underneath a surface full of exploit,
she tried to obey the rules of the streets.
She thought she was keeping us
shielded and guarded from a world.
it was all too much for her
she fell to the bottom
to the scum of the earth.
No one wanted to look anymore.
Heavily dependent on Meth
the beauty pageant wasn’t sure
they wanted her with her new crystals.
She was left to herself
no one understood
her glamorous life
time and attention
was exclusively hers.
Not just anyone could survive
down there in the depths of despair.
Time and her conditions
left a heavy mark
the addiction transformed
the Beauty Queen.
Not soon after, we recall
her paranoid insecurities
were lit aflame.
It was hard to understand
her reality, but none the less
it was real to her
she was our sister.
Inside to all of us
she was still
the most beautiful one.
She tried to make her skin glamorous again
it was too late, the marks were permanent.
Her teeth either missing or gone.
It was hard to see my sister this way
in the span of a year.
Going from winning the pageants
and signing exclusive offers
appearing in magazines
for Nordstrom and Saks 5th Avenue,
it’s harder to look at her then.
That one exclusive year
happened years ago and it’s taken her,
and I mean really taken her,
not only to the depths but to the edge.
She was revived,
the siblings were called
I remember in that hospital
we had to help her.
Adding our support,
and help it was amazing to watch.
My younger brothers taking their turn,
my sisters who sometimes felt second
they gave unconditional love.
Thank goodness there are 7 of us.
We got her to believe again,
she eventually fought for herself.
We helped fix the broken pieces
the best we could,
her smile was back.
The one thing about her,
that I admire more than anything
she’d give you her last dollar.
Not only super giving, but she puts
the world first in front of herself.
To her own detriment
she had that one selfish year
it literally cleansed her
washing the narcissism out.
In the long run, if she would of gone on
winning all the beauty pageants,
her beauty would have
eventually faded and what then?
The sister we have now
is so grateful and is still our superstar.
The day she fell and landed face down
in the scum,
into this beautiful dragonfly.
She’s thankful for the understanding
a year can’t define time,
she gave me permission
to write about the
the dangers out there
and what exactly triggered that year
“I was taking drugs
to seduce a feeling.”
Helpful Support Numbers
Massachusetts Substance Abuse Hotline
National Drug Helpline
Hands ache to touch and feel,
today waited impatiently
for me to wake and get the words out.
My expensive friend
asked to hold hands with me.
I was surprised I meant so much to her.
Everything has always been so one sided,
I don’t mind going along with the charade.
Today against all the rest,
I planned on bending the rules
for sometime now, I can’t help but to think
I need this other kind of girl right now.
A girl who tests the moral code,
she knows I’d risk it all for sure,
if it meant I could get inside of her.
There is always a second thought
before plunging down the rabbit hole
is this safest move to make
at this time of night.
It hasn’t always been so easy
to lay with her and kill time.
Even if we’re in her cluttered room
lying shoulder to shoulder planning.
She asks if I’m hungry,
only so I’ll go get take out for her.
The dangerous hours consume us
we can’t quite relax, but still
she’s having trouble falling asleep too.
Maybe we’re not all that different after all.
It’s often said that opposites attract
I find her almost to be my twin.
Insomnia is a treacherous friend,
one who can get you to do the things
that you’d never considered before,
especially when you woke
with the sun in your face.
At times she’s void of all emotion,
my robot asks if I have noticed
she got her hair done today?
A big blank stare looking upward
eyes so beautiful I avoid all blinking
with the dream I’m having,
I can’t seem to get enough of her.
In the hours that is has taken
to count all the second chances
I’m grateful I’ve given her the attention
so she can start to finish things.
I made a promise yesterday,
to keep her safe from everything.
Time has always been kind to me.
The hands have forgiven most things.
My true love asked if I could wait,
I honestly didn’t mind
because there’s really no other choice.
She has traveled all this way,
on broken knees to palms,
making sure that I felt loved
always letting me sip
on whatever cup.
From that first moment
when I asked her two questions
she immediately yearned to love.
Whatever it was that I wanted
that was her newest mission.
Time and attention is hers
in the hours I’ve been perfecting
this solitary craft, I haven’t quite
written my perfect poem.
Each time I come to this place
it’s my hope to just say
what’s on my mind.
Today, she asked
if I wouldn’t mind waiting
it shouldn’t take
much more than a day,
honestly, I’ve carved out
a lifetime for her.
She’s asked that I stay
focused and write.
I’ve been close to the stars
and I have certainly doubted
that they were fire.
I have never doubted her love though.
In most ways I can count
the seconds it takes
to get a proper answer from her.
Inside there are these
seven personality traits.
Can we simply choose
which one to take?
Never doubt they love,
words she’s made me memorize,
but still, who amongst us
would blindly wait?
Time will be your lonely companion,
come yesterday, when that question came
none of us have any real option
other than hold the hand of fate.
We can only hope
our radar is working straight.
Of course it’s how we confidently ask
our first two little questions
that we learn to trust the path
that the God’s have laid down for us.
So when I asked my two
in no way did I expect
my life to change so much.
Buried in bed alongside her
a girl twists the sheets,
she can’t stop smiling,
her tourniquet is tied tightly
around our waists.
She wants an answer,
it’s impossible to say no to that.
She frantically looks for nail polish
and insists I’m in charge
for how her toes looks tonight.
She asks why I have to love her?
Very carefully, I place tissue paper
in-between her toes
and I paint them.
She loves this kind of attention,
especially since she’s been the focus
of all the words.
She asks again, why do I love her?
Perhaps she’s begging to beg,
I concentrate on her French manicure.
I can’t just spit it out,
she smears her toes with a quick swipe.
There’s too much glass in my mouth,
why can’t these poems be enough?
It’s hard to face up and admit
I’m lost without her.
It’s not all that easy
searching the streets for her,
the nights have been sharp lately.
She asks why I love her,
and this time she wants a real answer,
before I do, she admits
she can’t let go either.
Fine, I dip the tiny brush,
I can’t say no to you.
It’s too dangerous to trust
In what I’m feeling is real.
You could put an end to me.
I’ve finished painting her toes,
I’m now blowing on them.
Do you know how fucked I’d be
if you decided to just up and leave?
How we’ve been,
it’s a drug we can’t get enough of,
no quantity satisfies the ache.
I have feelings for you.
I love you, you’re the girl.
She wants to paint my toes, she explains,
I’m all numb trying to apply nail polish.
She asks for a mirror,
I want to watch your face as I paint.
She admires I’ve kept my promises.
She starts by admitting,
her treasure chest has been stolen.
You too, are inside my veins,
she softly tickles my foot
to get me to smile.
It’s hard to imagine
the fire you put in me, ever going out.
She flips the colors
on the French manicure on me.
Don’t ever worry about me
shutting you out.
I want you painting my toes
however you want.
Understand that I am the one,
who is the vulnerable one here.
I’ve started and stopped three times,
each time coming to the top again.
With a new title and a fresh thought again,
words should be allowed to live.
There is something very obvious
in the way words affect us all.
I can’t tell how badly I want a…
There are some who instantly meet up,
giving things away immediately.
Intimately, there are some who are content
their moments are put on a list
almost calculated and planned.
What’s universal in all our relationships
players must be allowed to play
getting to the things we want
takes more than playful practice.
Absolutely, one must be honest, it’s worth repeating.
However, I’m somewhat fond of secrets
in some temperamental deceitful way
it’s sexy to hold back some information.
“There’s something I’ve never told you.”
None of us want to know it all
I applaud the effort it took to get ready.
Obviously, beauty has too many variables
it’s hard to tell what sparked the attraction.
Make sure you are who you say you are.
The poems and poetry are beautiful
right now my words
have all of my attention.
It’s not easy to say I miss you
I care to know you’re there
in that deep most passionate side
I want what’s crushingly difficult,
others can’t seem understand why.
Love is a mirror
we tend to reflect from inside.
First times count just once
mistakes can and will happen
when we’re trying to figure things out.
Make sure to line your pockets with memories.
Love and be loved in return.
With a joyous revolt against words
there is this blessed silence,
and by no means
was this edit a choice of yours.
Stubbornness I guess
is the last elusive thorn to conquer.
Whether you choose to take a stance
or choose to go silent
both can have a very loud impact.
Trust fall, you have the confidence
that you’ll be saved from your fall.
Make sure you have enough provisions
to last the drought’s duration.
Of course one could emote their feelings,
but that’s not an exact science,
the subtle tone in words
can get lost in a text translation.
After all, there are no referees to say
if the ball was fair or foul.
Understand everything is in bounds.
Take the totality of the game,
there is a lifetime of going back and forth.
Seriously, we could waste precious innings
one play shouldn’t affect the outcome.
Make abundantly sure
your protest has good timing
by law it’s safest to stay in the middle.
Always defend like crazy
the basis of your argument.
From solid footings
comes a solid foundation.
Try and understand the origins
of your stubborn streak
before you decide to keep going
or concede defeat.
If the argument does indeed
rise above all other beliefs
then by all means
stick to your guns,
A reviewing critic
I’m standing in a sea of strangers
amidst a nightlife that is alive and well.
Up there on stage, we see eye to eye
the girl who sings about a guy
playing a guitar, alone in a freezing garage.
Today is a special day, she announces,
the strangers yell for another song.
It’s clear, broken love has a trigger,
as most struggle to see the girl
who’s on stage,
admitting that track number 6
is a little too personal
for her first album.
She apologizes, and then belts it out.
I don’t want you tonight.
With a country Hillbilly whine
she can’t have us around tonight.
Her voice wails high above us all,
the hundred or so different conversations
acoustics in this sleepy coastal bar
struggle to separate her lyrics
from this guy talking about his motorcycle.
The crowd seems a little uninterested
as the girl on stage sings her first album.
She asks, who has seen them before?
Our response is lukewarm.
Now to the cover song for her dad,
it’s only now her voice comes alive
with Elvis’ Burning Love.
With that momentary jolt of excitement,
the girl goes back to an original song,
the crowd starts back up with their conversations
and I’m out and gone.
Time and attention
falls freely on both sides,
and just as I start to speak freely
you too take notice.
There is a natural equality
to the way you nurture
and no matter the role
you’re eager to play the part.
It’s in the way you look and see things
causing this envious side to be seen.
I catch myself in awe,
repeating, if only.
There are moments I cherish,
certain images I crave.
It is a prize knowing
your valuable time is mine.
When we’re in our private moments
using our tepid words,
there for the affect really
you’re my alter ego.
A multiple personality for sure
I wouldn’t mind sharing
some head space with you.
My speechless condition
that I often use
I’ve come to be your greatest excuse,
go and read in private
so no one notices
what exactly am I trying to say?
Maybe, I don’t know how to miss you.
My mind skips,
I am forced to rely on instincts
to get through each part of the day.
I ask with no real expectation
that’ll you’ll come to me and explain
why I have taught myself
to learn what things to say?
There are meanings to certain words,
certainly we have our handful
I can love you with no conditions,
just as I’ve always done.
Not wanting to explain why
I placed a loaded kiss on your mouth
I was hoping you felt the urgency
coming from my lips.
I need to say I love you
standing face to face
the cup overflows
you step from that little dress.
These are the sensitive hours for sure.
Wanting to ignore my erection
I’m careful not to brush up against your hip
the tension streaks across the room
hands entwine and we both freeze,
yeah, you felt it.
The handsome distraction
is right here in front of us,
my ‘erected’ want
is now your turn on.
I’m drawn closer by you
inside my waistband
you wrap your cold little hand
and bring me closer,
just as I look down
I catch your eyes watching too.
The glistening pre-cum emerges,
you circle with a thumb
and before I have a chance to…
You stroke the head of me,
against the crease of your soft skin
and that’s enough to fill
and see the days and hours of waiting
across your chest and belly.
Standing with me completely naked
you tiptoe to get your mouth a little closer
whisper something between us.
It’s too soon to explain
what’s going on inside.
Honestly, I promise
to come clean in the morning,
after we’ve showered
from a heavy night of taking turns.
The sky is threatening,
still, I swallow the truth and wait.
Winds pick at the edges
and it’s hard not to notice,
just how dependent I’ve become.
Silence has settled peacefully,
I wait here for the eye to come.
Caught up in the moment
I yearn for you.
Prayers churn inside, and so I
meditate on certain words
at least it gives me
some sort of shelter.
Curled up, with my back against it,
the rain’s daggers dig into my skin.
Still, this is better than the nothing
I was getting before the storm.
There is that part of me,
that will wait through all temperatures
the highs and lows do not matter.
Tonight I sit weathered and worn.
I’ve stopped using hours
to count and tell time,
ever since the sky too
was abused by the lightening strikes.
A flash slaps the calm between gusts,
and then, another strike.
We wait, and can’t help but flinch
even though we know
the sky is going to erupt and explode.
And there it is
the entire house shakes.
Windows feel like they’re going to shatter
the violence feels natural, it passes quick.
Sheets of sorrowful rain
follow the pounding surf.
The wailing grows even louder now.
People rush to my shores
seeking some sort of relief.
Nostalgia means I am their father figure.
It helps I stay the course,
even though, I have no real guide myself
so I forecast the best I can
reassuring everything will be ok.
This latest disaster will hit land soon,
Ive promised I’d bend to protect them.
Offering much more support,
than what they’ve offered themselves.
The waves reach in with long fingers,
they keep taking
from the exhausted shoreline.
I turn from the destruction
and watch her
face the horizon head on.
She too is ready to fight the night
right alongside me, it’s a relief
knowing her emotional beacon
will be there high on the cliffs edge
guiding all of us
to another morning of safety.
the promise has always been
I’ll take care of you.
Eyes centered and focused
keeping the minutes clear from all distractions.
Even when your mom starts it up
I’ll keep your chin high above
all the bullshit.
When she starts judging your decisions,
we’ll respectfully turn and smile because
it’s all coming from distorted love.
Choices, everyone makes them
no one is ever truly perfect.
We can make noise and get away like we used to,
even if I have to cover your eyes.
We can walk around with my big hands
guiding you through the business.
That temperamental side of yours,
it’s always saying something
I swear every part of you
fits seamlessly with no lines or edges.
You’re the girl with curves,
I promise to pay close attention
whenever we’re out there doing life things.
Eating seems to be our favorite thing,
unless we’re playing, to some chronic playlist.
The words in songs
have always meant everything, imperfect or otherwise,
we seem to always make honest efforts
whenever we try to sing.
The pure time I get to spend alongside you
is too special because I’m relaxed
none of that nervous bouncing
where you’re putting a hand to my knee.
I can see a lifetime of sipping the drug
you’re my next big fix, I’m always chasing.
The more time we spend building
our worlds entwine and grow together,
Morning Glory vine consuming the back wall.
Cupped hands whisper
they crush and break a side in me
I fall weak to certain things in you.
I know the mood is super loud,
that concert we went to was all erotic
but the music was way too loud
we walked around with damage.
We couldn’t hear for days,
we wouldn’t trade it.
Nothing ever matters anyway
what if I need it
you’re my favorite.
In our dogs years
time can pass on by quickly.
I bet they don’t hold grudges,
they can’t, especially the way
they wag their tales
each time they see us.
I’d swear they understand our language
certain parts of it anyway.
Unless of course, they’re lying to us.
Just think if they had long-term memory
imagine opening the door
they turn and have no reaction,
taking no notice that you’re home.
When you make those baby voices
they roll their eyes and look the other way
like you’re crazy.
What would happen if they stopped,
trying to show how much they loved us.
They see something out a dark window
and ignore it.
They stop following you around the house
they just stay put to do their own thing.
No longer have a favorite toy
or place to go lay down.
Our dogs have full time jobs
they come home and are all tired
can’t be bothered with us
they’re stressed because
the roles have switched.
Our full-time job was them
no longer a bigger picture
and depending on the kind or breed
you may have a temperamental
truly dangerous situation
you’ll need to be careful around.
It’s all just crazy
thinking in this way
because truly, our dogs
wouldn’t want to switch places.
They’re perfectly content
being part of a family
giving unconditional love
(Give your pet a hug)😘
There are no regrets
when we accept we won’t be strangers
from this point forward,
I’ll need to rent some space in my head
so you make room and move on over.
It’s a shame it’s taken so long
for me to find you,
listening to all these songs up against it all
convincing myself you’re coming.
And yeah, today might be a little different,
24 hours is never enough time,
except when you’re around.
The real and true feelings come alive,
there’s still room for you to recognize
when affection is needed,
so it can be given back equally.
I like how we share our cycles,
again in equal measure
it doesn’t matter much if I’m instructing,
because you could easily turn away
and wipe out the submission.
There’s just something about a girl
who gives 100% of her attention
to One, the true One that others notice.
Damn, how did you learn how to love like that?
When beauty hits you,
there are these new prayers
you didn’t know you knew,
but you kneel and give thanks
because there are a limited few
that are naturally this way.
It’s hard to draw the lines between lovers,
it’s even harder to tell
who’s been broken by accident
One might talk in a way,
while another must want to beg.
There are universal truths about people,
no matter if you’re the giver or the taker,
all that’s ever really mattered,
is that you’re perfectly matched
to a partner, cause or job.
Eventually there will come a time
when you’re finally all alone
doing a solitary dance of sorts.
Being perfectly balanced
means you can dance in perfect step
when the world is fucked up, imperfect.
Avoid the narcissistic,
they’ll push you out in an instant
nothing matters to them
but the I, me and my
at the start in each sentence.
Caution when you take on a forever bond,
just make sure you’re ready to
give, take, spread, share, fight, makeup, ignore, shower, walk away, devour, learn, be honest, lie, ache, talk, kiss and more.
before you give away that forever more.
A first time goes for everything,
so meeting someone for the first time
after a decade of information
from a couple of conversations
we’re both feeling confident.
She explains she needs to perform
a lynch pin ritual,
not exactly sure what this means
the curiosity was more than enough
what started with an innocent look
ended up being our forever bond.
We both kept an informal tally,
just as the days kept rolling along.
It didn’t take too much or too long
to see the law of attraction
gripping and interacting between us.
she placed her tiny hands
in a Reiki position
lightly touching the edges.
Within a few seconds the hour turned,
she pressed down firmly and hard.
Taking flame to candles
the hovering light gathers
her silhouette alerted me to her mood.
Beauty, and the beholder
there is something easy about her
confidently spreading oil in hands,
she brought the last candle closer
the spiked hot mix of her hand
Tipping the melted wax
exactly on a sore shoulder
she performed this spell,
without any expectation or answers
she focused her attention again.
The explanation went something like
if this works, it’ll be the lynch pin
for everything else working.
The girl in charge,
she set her warm hands closely.
In a flash, a bright light exploded
to this positive internal charge.
A tremendous shock inside
she felt something different.
With eyes up into eyes
she said this whispered prayer,
the bond that’s now between us
is a result of the lynch pin episode
the spell taking hold
creating this life-time connection.
Anonymous in a line
putting words on a screen
I watch her balance
all the little things.
With rain making everything
all clean and spotless
everyone guards against
the supposed cold weather
and all the little things.
Yesterday, a family friend
spent his last day here on earth
and all we want to know
are the little things.
Most times it doesn’t matter
exactly what time it ever was,
except when we’re standing here
late in a line
blaming the little things.
It’s there when I get home
that quiet solitude
and the expectations
that I’ll write
about the little things.
Every interaction seems so random
and yet, all our little things
add layers to our lives.
I can come to appreciate
all those tiny little things,
come and pass us by.
With the biggest dreams ever conceived,
attention comes and floods the streets.
Everyone has to have a piece
whatever it was, you were giving away.
Maybe it’s because
your clothes will be changing hands
or the simple fact, they used to be yours.
Those expensive jackets
you just leave there on your bedroom floor.
Clutter seems to be an adorable condition
it speaks to your casual nature.
Like no one will ever notice
how you get bored
after wearing it just once.
Who really knows though,
what will spark the newest fad
or what will grab your attention.
Sometimes it’s just easier
being content and satisfied,
naked and wanted, now there’s the dream.
The skin trade in real-life color,
especially since we’re all so curious
what you look like
underneath it all. After all, there are some
who freely give themselves away,
in a reckless abandon,
that one crazy summer
where we pretended to be something
all together different. Jealous eyes
surround the space in our minds,
where we keep our guarded little secrets
from getting out.
I don’t mind telling you
my one true and massive secret.
The day before yesterday,
I sat by a rainy window and reminisced
how the love-drawn hours
spill and soak an already flooded earth.
You’re waiting on my secret, I know,
I’ve started something akin to gossip.
Doing that heavy whisper thing
against the inner ear, I swear
I’ve never laughed harder
that when you pretended to tell me
exactly what it was
you swore you wouldn’t tell.
Nevertheless , there’s something in all us
that we need to get off our chests.
So before I actually promise
to tell my deepest darkest secret,
I want to hear yours…
These are the days we share,
and in everyone, we find our someone.
Looking through a, ‘Lost and Found’
we’re reminded, these used items
used to be someones gift.
Yesterday, and against all the rest,
it was starting to look like the rain,
wasn’t going to stop, but instead,
we were able to hold hands without gloves.
This is our first hour we’ve ever bet against.
With more than the worst odds,
we didn’t expect to win at this,
but we were dealt a solid hand.
What started out as something innocent,
has sure enough made us think again.
a Valentine celebration perhaps,
where we yearn to kiss
for an hour straight.
I can’t ask for much more than this,
aim your bow if you must,
trust me, the target won’t be missed.
Distance has always been our companion,
just as we travel without gloves.
We are drawn by the law of attraction,
especially on a day like today,
there is this completion to the hour
only a select few would ever attempt.
Inside our drug fueled addictions,
we’re constantly waiting on the other
to hurry and catch up.
So tonight we make our wishes
for next year’s Valentines.
Here now at this hour,
on tippy toes we promise,
we will gather at this very spot.
One will look upward,
while the other bends down to kiss.
And exactly a year from now
we’ll laugh and remember
just exactly how we found ourselves
in this fucked up little mess.
I can hear the rain more than I can see it.
Here, against a quiet hum,
the refrigerator works to keeps things frozen.
Out the window rain and wind mix,
the view is a mess, there’s nothing left,
but to sit here and take it all in.
My rescued German Shepherd,
Shiva, seems to remember how it felt
to be out there in the driving cold.
The irony of her circumstances,
once neglected, she’s in a better place.
Still, this weather insists on pouring while the wind, pushes us.
I love what goes into this,
the predicting and everything.
Layered beneath cashmere,
My scarf hangs loosely,
and I sit freezing.
Inside, it’s just me, staring at the outside.
The koi are under duress,
the cold is a temperamental condition
making it so, it’s hard to move.
The fish are hovering in their places
waiting for things to return
to the way they used to be
before this storm was predicted
to wreak havoc on our gentle coast
when most years at this time,
we’re usually under
a drought advisement.
Perhaps you shouldn’t have made mention
that it’s been entirely way too long
since I’ve written anything.
The problem now is,
I can’t stop putting the words to thought.
Maybe it’ll mean you’ll spend hours
trying to sit comfortably with me inside,
just as I go along writing too much in one day.
I can clearly remember the feeling
when we saw each other today.
Never mind, it wasn’t all that big of a deal,
to you, but I, can remember every detail.
Did you notice you cut your hair
a little too short, in the front, never mind.
There was something else in the way,
when you dismissed me,
when it was you that called.
I love the eyes that come here religiously
they get an exact fix on me
and how it is I relate to words.
To the tiny inconspicuous things
that others don’t care to notice.
Those boots you wore,
I love the sound they make.
The leggings you just started to wear,
the ones I helped pick out,
they truly look fabulous.
To the one who doesn’t think
I haven’t noticed what she’s wishing for.
Oh, if only that wish were to come true,
just how perfect would this lonely winter turn?
There are solid answers
I swear that this 2nd time around
will go much smoother than the first.
I can clearly feel you in my mind
completing the usual set of words
I try and usually use.
Against a wall of words
I’d search for in her,
the girl who was Adam’s first.
I wonder if that clue is enough
to get you to stop and pay attention.
My devotion is praying
seriously, stop and clear those other distractions
from your already complex mind.
Settle in and get ready
because there are 12 lessons
begging for you to turn.
My 3am focus
has always been the same,
each time I curl up in bed
to write the words again
hoping the tiny light is dim enough.
This hour sits and devours My attention,
it’s always been My handsome hour
when I can write about pretty things.
Far from love-struck eyes,
I can clearly see the girl who’s super devoted still
even after all this time in years
devotion is certainly a thorn of hers.
She can’t help it if,
she wants her own kissing hour to start up again.
I’d volunteer if it meant
I could keep my eyes open because
I’ve never been this close to love before,
the eyes are closed shut and the mind
goes somewhere else.
I want you,
to stay on the edge
with this love-drunk fool.
Still, I could promise from here and back
I’d have your nights full of heavy plans.
We could act out along with our playlists
pretending we were the actual words
in all the rough and sexual lyrics.
Of course we’d skip over any songs
we have somehow repeated.
There’s just one request though,
we need to play in the cold crisp hours,
the dangerous hours where we’re warned
we should stay inside.
There’s something exciting about
that bitter ice cold grip,
then jumping back inside
like it’s life or death
trying to get the other hot again.
Take advantage if you must,
the tortured truth is
I’d be just as happy
if we spent Winters 100 nights
staring out a window
waiting on our summer days to return.
Today I saw her bones.
There is a winter storm warning
everyone tries not to worry,
tonight the weather will change.
There was a place
where we used to kiss,
when she wore her favorite summer dress.
Now, everything is being covered in snow
by morning it’s sure to be covered and gone.
This is the sharing season,
where one is safe and caring.
Today I saw her bones
and I appreciate the warnings
otherwise, I would not know
how to properly dress.
There are sensitive understandings
I still find hard to explain
and yet, there are others
who don’t care to answer.
The sky is so temperamental,
try not to turn your back
tonight the weather will change
the heavy unrestricted lashings
are set to rip apart the shore.
Today I saw her bones,
I don’t think she’s ready
for these upcoming storms.
Wind chimes alert to their arrival,
gale force warnings for sure
most would retreat to warmer shelter.
I look out the window
she’s there all stoic
ready to face her storm.
With plain speak on my mind
I still trip every time,
I come across her words.
Words that are dripping wet
with expectation and want,
the desire to please.
There is this certain pulse and beat.
It would be tragic if,
we never made a duet
a mixtape of our words,
dancing and flirting with each other
against the dark dreary edge.
These cold winter days
are the times we’re entwined
looking for a way to remove the warm blankets.
To lay naked in her arms,
watching as she writes
to all her fans.
I want to dance around her thoughts,
in her eyes at least
there is this amazing place
that makes it hard to forget
how her special kind of attention
could ever go unnoticed.
The sparkle in her charms,
she can’t help herself,
but to say that one word
that triggers everything else.
I’ve had just one, like her before
up in the wind and sky
she spun around us both.
I sometimes worry about the fall,
but while you’re in it,
something everlasting makes you think
you’ll survive, like you’re the lucky one.
She begs for the torture binding,
where she’s tightly tied
to a set of commanded words.
She likes breaking the rules
the spankings and everything
that go along with it.
She likes the part
where she’s supposed to obey
and from around her throat
she freely gives that chain
that’s fastened to her choker.
Time and attention
will always be hers,
especially when she wears
the evidence of last night’s kissing hour.
All across our room
she smears her lipgloss,
and I have no other choice,
but to go right along with her
lighting all the candles.
Our dance, is a balance of course
inevitably we fall and laugh at each other.
The duet of words
will start as soon as she uses
that single word she knows,
I love cupped and whispered.
Her entire little body is balanced
on my left shoulder,
she closes in and uses the word.
I get those child-like chills
she takes her black eyeliner
writing the word on my hip.
She says wait while she grabs
and takes a series of pictures
from her big fancy camera.
The torture in loving her
I find her pulse as we kiss
press two fingers to her throat
hard against her skin
the beat quickens
we collapse in a heap
and start all over.
The loud explosions were viscous against our building, it felt like the walls were going to collapse in and around us. I could see shadowy figures running about in frantic chaos, just outside my tiny window. Everyone was screaming and I couldn’t help but flinch with each new wave.
My mother and I were the only two in our small one bedroom apartment. I clung to her in absolute fear. The screams were getting louder, everyone in our complex was involved. Clutching my blanky, I couldn’t move against the fear in me. My mom had to literally jerk me, in order to get my eyes to focus dead center into hers.
Her blue eyes were now completely black. She turned into me while gripping hard onto my arms, “You stay here and do not move! They’ll kill you if they catch you! My mom gathered a few things and ran to the door. Her silhouette, still haunts me. She turned and aggressively whispered, “Go and hide in your special place. I’m running to get uncle Dante. Don’t move from here! Do you understand?” The look on her face, the sound of her scared voice, I have never been this terrified in my life.
I’m not sure if I answered her, the next thing though, she was awash and swept up by the crowd moving frantically outside. She disappeared. I could clearly hear her scream, until I couldn’t. I started crying, like that uncontrollable hiccup crying. My throat burned, too afraid to make any sound. At that moment I felt like a child.
It wasn’t until I heard a voice in my head that night. It was an unfamiliar mans voice who was giving orders to others. I was simply eavesdropping. It stopped me from crying and helped me follow my mothers instructions, “Get in my special place.” That place, consisted of a small crawl space in our bathroom. It was easy to curl my 5 year old body into the tiny slot behind our linen basket, it was impossible to find me once I slid the wall shut. I clutched my blanky even harder now. That blanket thank goodness, had the smell of my mother. I closed my eyes, but instantly saw her horrified glaring face looking at me. That image of her, frightened me something fierce. I promised myself I wasn’t going to close my eyes ever again.
The wave of screams kept coming. A pocket of people would be found, they’d scream for their life and then go silent. I put my tightened little fists over my ears so I wouldn’t hear. In my cramped pitch dark space, I heard the man again, inside my head. He was beyond angry. He was shouting, “Someone better find me that child now!” I whispered to myself, “Let’s not find the child.” I fought to stay awake, too afraid to face my mother’s anguish, I could feel myself nodding off.
It wasn’t until I woke up the next morning and was somewhere all together different. I felt a soft hand on my shoulder. “Come here baby.” A woman completely dressed in this glowing white fabric picked me up in one swift motion. I clung to her neck because it felt safe. A dream or whatever, it was better than my cramped wall space, but I could actually feel her. She smelled so amazing, it’s hard to describe, but the combination of everything about her soothed my frayed nerves. Whatever she was wearing was so soft, I couldn’t stop bunching the fabric which comforted my hands. She was carrying me and it didn’t matter because I felt so safe with her. All of this was too much for my 5 year old little brain.
A command center was remotely set-up outside the living quarters of the workers in order to find a child who held remarkable mental powers. It was paramount to try and grab the child by surprise. It was discussed and decided by the General, “In order to apprehend the subject we have to use extreme caution. Under no circumstances is anyone to simply go up to her and talk to her.” The plan was named “Shock and Awe” in that we overwhelm the entire community with loud explosions and give the perception people were being killed. Since the child was 5 years old and no one quite understood the extent of her ‘abilities’ it was agreed upon by the Elders that the child would simply panic and not know how to react.
The plan was being executed to perfection. There were loud non-lethal explosions followed by troops with high powered darts that dropped a target instantly. No one was harmed nor would they remember anything once an antidote was given, the affects would wear off in hours. The General knew exactly where the child lived and also knew of the hiding place behind the linen basket in the bathroom. It was important that after the traumatic event of losing her mother, that the child be placed in a super soft sensitive environment with a mother-like being in order to soothe and comfort the child while they conducted tests without her knowledge. Behind every mirror or tucked in every object was either a camera or microphone that made observation seamless. The General turned to his top luetenants and said, “Good job everyone. The subject has been contained with no casualties. This is going to be easy.”
The girl woke up and saw the woman sitting next to her. She quickly looked around to take inventory and asked the woman, “What’s going to be easy?”
Sounds come from distant places
and I press a kiss hard to the earth
hoping that she’ll listen to my plea.
The night is coming all too quickly
I hide in a deep recess in her room.
The mood is sullen, but I am awake
almost excited at the prospect
of waking next to her body.
The trees outside move,
several wind chimes have been disturbed,
it could be something menacing
so I go to investigate.
My love is standing barefoot
there under a 100 year-old tree.
The roots make it hard to stand steady,
she trips and falls and I watch.
Her once glorious gown
is all dark and muddy
she wallows and laughs
asking me to join her.
Hand outstretched and extended
it’s all too inviting,
to lie there in the mud with her,
just how filthy dirty we’ve become.
Still, I turn towards an open door,
one that wasn’t there yesterday
and I creep around the corner.
The everlasting truth,
is born in all of us.
We inherently know our paths,
how willingly we travel from them.
I’ve guessed my limits are somewhat
more limited than all the rest.
I’m sure that’s why you have trouble
understanding the meanings in the poems.
Outside the next morning
there is absolutely no evidence
of a girl that was writhing.
Perhaps this is why I’m better off
not having gone along with her
there in cleansing mud,
so instead I’ll plant some flowers.
Someday, when we’re all said and gone
there will be this strong and handsome figure
a tree alone in a field
surrounded by beauties.
My everlasting truth is this
I trust the voice inside me.
I listen to the alarms,
so I can run even faster!
When it repeats,
I stop and pay attention.
It’s a delicate balance for sure,
the things we tend to believe or ignore.
Today I trust in this hour,
I’ve fought against the jealous moon
ignored the love-drawn attention.
Now, as the morning sun is upon us
I roll over and begin anew.
It’s not that I ask for you by name,
my wish is much more inconspicuous.
I can still feel you wrapped around me
for days on end after we’ve finished.
I keep you as my little secret,
you’re all I can think about today
I remind myself, one day at a time
with this one, it’s an amazing season.
Our sunshine conversations
keep a rush feeling inside
where we can’t wait to do all the stupid things in life.
I love how you don’t mind
if I spin you around
so you can be my dizzy companion.
We can lay in bed when grey skies tiptoe all day long.
I know there’s a whole lot of love to go around,
you never ask for more though,
and I can appreciate that sentiment,
just know I find it easy to be near you.
Nothing is lost or has gone unnoticed,
no, quite the contrary, I can tell you
change is the shameful truth that I regret.
I can’t lose you because
you occupy this blind side in me,
it’s a place where,
I’ll defend you to the death in there.
That night when we shared that thing
that passed between our lips, wow,
you’re were so meticulous.
It was beautiful when you held a hand
under my chin making sure I didn’t spill,
like taking medicine.
I love how you give me attention
everything is so thought out,
from the playlists, to the tiny lights/candles and pretty blankets.
My head got all fucked up, from all that love that went around.
I keep thanking the Gods in prayer,
just as long as I have you
I don’t mind spending all this time expressing
the strange ever changing feeling
that splits off and tingles.
It’s easy watching you
performing these little rituals
because I am the beneficiary.
I hope you won’t mind
if I linger in your bathroom
and watch as you get ready.
I’ll stay and hug the casing of the door,
stare as you apply your soft foundation
to soften the edges.
Erasing your sun-kissed smile,
I wish you wouldn’t cover those wrinkles,
still, I make pouty lips alongside you.
Just as you apply a light shade of lipstick
perhaps to hide the evidence that’s coming,
our future late-night kissing,
a presumption I suppose.
Wow, the transformation of your eyes,
highlighted by a beautiful shade of color.
I swear I turned for just a second,
tiny puffs of powder seem to cap the mood.
there’s a whole lot of love to go around.
I’m still not used to
when you read my mind
in the little notes
You give my mind an image to play with,
I’m buried deep inside your pocket.
I like traveling around with you
listening to all your funny stories,
I know our love is not exactly perfect,
but it’s ours though.
Wow I was just notified that I
am on a four day streak!
The first thing that came to mind
are all the things I could do in that time.
So here’s my 5am list of things I could in 4 days.
1. I could strip the inside of a house and repaint.
2. In four days I could ride my bike the 240 miles to San Francisco.
3. Drive across country to the Statue of Liberty.
4. I could teach someone how to read.
5. That unsightly yard could be transformed.
6. Write an award winning essay.
7. Record a song dropping a background track.
8. Very easily binge watch
9. Spoil a girl on some mini-vacation.
10. Finally, I’d simply spend my 4 days
uploading poetry to WordPress.
The funnier list are the things I wouldn’t,
but I don’t want to bore you with
the random things that come to mind.
I’d pretty much do anything
to show how using lower case text works.
Words are important to me
in a way that sunshine feels on a grey day
when you sit against a warm window
it’s nature’s hug when nothing else works.
Lower case words are meant to show
a soft demurely kind of way of expressing
a submissive role in a relationship.
And there’s that word, I wish it were
all together something not so demeaning.
It’s hard to fight against perceptions,
just because a person uses pronouns
in the lower case. i, me, and my
are ways of showing
a top or bottom positions
in our text heavy world.
The Dominant and submissive believe
in the natural order of things.
Imagine if you could, a pack of grey wolves
they’re all pack leaders, totally on top
truly unable to stop the aggression always at war with another.
That thing the wolves do,
when they’re mating. Even they need
the natural Dominant/submissive balance.
Using lower case is a privilege because
you choose ‘the One’
who has the best qualities.
I stand in awe when I see a natural submissive.
It often sounds subtle a little like this,
“i want what pleases You”
There all kinds and types on both sides
and if you haven’t abandoned this poem by now, thank you.
Having an open mind truly makes a difference.
Keep in mind though,
there are tons of disastrous relationships,
just like on any first time date
keep your guard up against the person
who demands you play the part at the start.
This lifestyle doesn’t demand you use
the lower case, not until, you’re ready to
tryout the Dominant to see just how
things are negotiated. At first, both voices
are true and equal, meaning
use upper case on those pronouns.
It’s pretty amazing when the letters kneel
on their own accord, but I warn you
you’ll forever be fighting
unbelievably smart keyboards.
I wanted to drop a note acknowledging everyone who stops in to read the words. Again, thank you for the time attention on Dragonfly Poetry
The sky might be one hundred degrees
with the sun being brilliantly bright,
but in my head, the sky is falling grey
storm clouds, I’ll stay in bed all day.
I know I can’t check out like that
so I’ll walk around in a haze
in my head, the girl is just right there.
I can easily reach out to her,
but the warning system is broke.
Advisories are telling me
to stay inside, stay protected.
I’m not afraid
of a little weather coming my way
I can always climb to higher ground.
It feels off in this downpour
surely the floods are going to block out
my well established exit plan.
I’m nervous when I’m around her
what if this current deluge meant
I couldn’t live without her?
There is a difference
between need and want.
I’d spend a lifetime in eye of the storm
if it meant I’d be with her.
I can read the calm
well before the wall causes damage.
In my head, I know I need to love her.
There’s something epic about her
she can shatter the previous records.
Im in a storm surge
when I’m around her
I wasn’t meant to keep my head down
and none of this is predictable.
If I can keep my head just above water
even when things are sinking
I’d rather grab onto her,
and forget all my worldly possessions.
Even when my eyes
are stupid and closed
I can hear thunderstorms coming.
The power in the lights they flicker
I know how to settle and get to shelter
but in my head
I just need to love her.
no matter what the forecast says.
Down to earth
from the top downward
the switch was thrown
on the down low where
expectations are low.
Stand still and take your medicine
everything will be all right,
but what do I know
I just use words to fit a mood.
I just use words to confuse
to slip a thought just under the surface.
All I really want is to free your mind
to clear and clean up your room
the clutter is a mistake.
I want to be able to recognize you
buried underneath your busy life
underneath all the things you’re collecting
I hate this picture in my head,
I hate when I’m told to do anything
I hate when you say shit.
I know it’s not pretty
to say things
we know are true.
I’m all digitally connected
and yet, all I want though
are a set of a few easy rules to follow.
Maybe today we could escape
like we used to,
I know you’re too busy picking flowers
asking me to count them out.
She loves me,
she loves not.
There are miles of petals,
I’ve used every excuse
to convince myself you can love me.
God knows, that’s so not true
it’s a shame really
because I’ve wasted so many flowers
trying to get that last one to fall on
she loves me.
It was nice to be invited
back into her bed.
I had the perfect gift to celebrate
this new occasion of finding her again.
In there, she does not have to pretend
she whispers for my approval.
I hand her the gift.
Her eyes were filled with that look
‘You didn’t have to do this.’
Instantly, she fell in love
bringing the first-time garment to her chest,
she barely even saw it.
The corset should be a ‘first gift’
because one does not imagine
the amount of discipline it’s going to take
sipping on breath to get through a day.
Still, I’ve not seen her this happy.
With draw strings waiting for her waist,
she can’t imagine how it’s going to fit.
It looks so tiny even in her hands,
like a powerful constricting fist.
she can’t get the words out fast enough
“please, can we try it on me!”
She is placed facing the mirror,
just as her garment is slipped overhead,
immediately she feels the fabric’s soft kiss.
To the stinging cold steel eyelets,
I swear she’s beyond excited.
Having always wanted,
I start with the top layer, saying,
“you’ll remember you are owned.”
I jerk close the first few eyelets
the slack is taken out of laces.
To the next set of words
“you’ll remember to listen.”
The closing middle was where she noticed
her body was being transformed
the corset was more than just a form fitting outfit
it was an extension of my hand on her.
She loved the sound of the laces
being drawn down her spine.
She stared deeply in the mirror
She couldn’t wait to run her hands to her sides.
I started with this instruction
“Throughout this entire day your curves and cleavage are the highlight. Come tonight we’re going to fuck. you’re free to share your excitement, just don’t let anyone touch.”
The girl spun around in one quick motion
the feel of her right waisted body was something. Quickly…
After, I needed to make some final adjustments
centering the front clasps making sure
the top three were undone to reveal her cleavage.
As she stood looking in that mirror
again, she couldn’t help but take it all in.
The compression on her skin
melted her sore muscles
she felt this amazing hug. She couldn’t wait to get fully dressed.
her outfit had hints of crushed cranberry velvet. Pretty beads aligned the front.
Never has the girl felt so wanted,
than inside her corset.
She hesitates for just a moment, it’s already too late. Sergei approaches her with tense muscles, barking at her to “get up.” His voice was rich and authoritative all at once and it was never wise to make him repeat himself. The girl was never given a name, and typically children born like this were used for a purpose, discarded and never heard of again. This one was different, she had powers.
Sergei and the girl quickly shuffled through the frozen corridor on their way to the great hall. Sergei was her escort, he was under strict orders not to let anyone speak to the child, let alone, get close enough to to touch her and snatch her into the darkness.
The great hall was quite opulent. It was beauty at its finest with its rich exterior. The ‘creators’ decided to put forth all their wealth and knowledge into designing this structure. Everywhere your eyes looked there was a treasure. On the main outside door there was a gold inlayed inscription in a language the girl didn’t recognize. She watched as Sergei put the palm of his hand to a pad and with an twisting motion, the door unlock.
Without touching her, he led her straight to her ‘Instructor,’ who had gathered materials for the days instruction. “Ah yes, good morning to you both. Sergei, that will be it for now.” The instructor turned his back on the girl as he steadied his pile of work. The girl watched as Sergei left their immediate area, but hovered in the shadows, keeping a close eye on the both of them.
The instructor turned facing the girl. He wasn’t sure what to make of her just yet, they’d only met a couple of days ago. Thus far, he has had no luck getting her to talk to him. Actually, he has had no luck of anything, she just stares at him. “Ah yes, young lady, today we are going to talk about sound.”
She stared at him. “Yes, yes.” He handed her a child’s string instrument, much like a guitar. He balanced his in his hands and made a few quick strums. He was delighted when he saw her crack a smile, even if it were for a brief second. He motioned, suggesting it was her turn. She stood there holding the instrument, but made no effort to play. The instructor showed her again, but this time he played an entire song. There it was again, that brief little smile of hers.
They went back and forth like this for a couple of hours. The most the Instructor got was a tiny smile. “Ah yes, how incredibly odd you are child. You obviously understand I’m racking my brain trying to get you to talk, yet all I get is that tiny smile.” The girl stood there making no attempt to strum the instrument. Here, let’s try a violin. The Instructor picked it up and handed it to her, she accepted it. Walking behind her, her eyes following him, he went to take her hand.
Immediately Sergei jumped in and grabbed the instructors wrist pulling his hand away from the girl. “Don’t touch her.” Horrified, the instructor gave Sergei some resistance, but immediately relaxed. “I was only going to show her how to hold it.” The girl watched them. The instructor was obviously frustrated. Sergei stepped back again to watch. The rest of the morning the instructor tried his best to get her to do anything with all the instruments, but nothing worked. He played, she cracked a tiny smile. Over and over again. Nothing.
Sergei came for the girl for lunch and he was accompanied by one of the Elders. The Elder turned to the Instructor, “Ah yes, we’ve been watching you these last couple of days trying to communicate with her. We weren’t expecting instruments. Very well done.” The instructor turned to him, “Ah yes, thank you Sir, if you don’t mind, may we talk in private?” The elder spoke to Sergei and then turned to the instructor.
“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking. This child, what makes you think she even knows how to speak? I don’t think she can even hear me, let alone, getting her to speak. What am I doing here with her?”
The Elder led the instructor over to the table to sit. “I can’t go into all the details about this little girl, just yet, but we asked that she be brought to you because you’re one of our brightest minds and we wanted you to examine her.” The instructor shifted, “Ah yes Sir, that’s kind of you, but with all due respect why bring an orphan child into the great hall only to be told the obvious?” TheElder kept his voice low, “Listen, this child has some remarkable powers. We sent her here so you could tell us the extent of them.” The Instructor removed his glasses and looked at his wrist.
The instructor turned and looked at the Elder directly and said, “Ah yes Sir, you’re going to have to let me touch her.” The Elder knew this was coming and instead of explaining or arguing what only a handful of people understood, he gave a grave warning to the instructor. “I warn you. If you touch this child, it cannot be undone.” Taking his words seriously, “Sir, then just tell me.” Immediately the Elder shot back, “Absolutely out of the question. This secret stays right here between us both. I warn you, if any of this is spoken of, you’ll not live.” The instructor was stunned. For minutes they sat there in silence
The Instructor turned keeping his voice low, “Ah yes Sir, I mean no disrespect and of course I hold all of this in confidence, but I simply want to shake the girl’s hand.”
The Elder got up and left through the door. The instructor wasn’t sure how this was going to turn out. He started collecting the instruments and placing them back into their cases. Just as he was finishing up, the door opened. The Elder and little girl walked in the room and the Elder introduced her. “Ah yes Instructor, I’d like to introduce Ember.” The little girl just stood there. The Instructor looked at the Elder and at the girl and said, “Ah yes, Ember, it is my pleasure to finally greet you.” The Instructor looked at the Elder and the Elder nodded as to extend his hand to her. The Instructor slowly reached out to shake Ember’s hand, he swallowed hard in anticipation.
When their hands touched something magical was triggered. “Hello Sir, my name is Ember and I have been wanting to say thank you so much for these last couple of days. Her voice was this tiny soft English voice with an accent. She said, “Here, listen to me play the instruments you showed me.” The Instructor heard every note of every song he played. He was in awe and couldn’t move.
The Elder stood there watching as Ember went through the catalogue of everything the instructor knew, piece by piece through his brain. When she was finished, her hand slipped from the Instructor and he stood there an empty shell. She had absorbed everything.
It’s hard to get across a messy floor
covered in all the little shards.
Sometimes the relationship is easier
when things are clearly defined.
In the Dominant/submissive world
there are these hard and soft limits.
Here is an example an example of soft
numbered in no particular order.
These are the easy everyday limits
1. Be goal oriented
2. Ask to speak freely
3. Spend time and attention on your look
4. Call if you’re late
5. Open mindedness
6. Write in your journal
7. Practice patience
8. Careful of the tone
9. I’ll let you know when and where
10. Have a plan
With all that out of the way
We come to the ‘Deal Breakers’
the list of hard limits
come with a much heavier, final price
here is a list of ten
1. Simply be honest. Don’t ever lie
2. Be faithful
3. Avoid arguing
4. Smoking is situational
5. Avoid the silent avoidance
6. Complete the tasks
7. Food etiquette
9. Did I mention, never lie?
10. Always want what’s best
Obviously these lists are negotiated,
always discussed and clearly understood.
Also called a living document
where they can change with time.
Remember these aren’t
a bunch of insecure barking rules
meant for the submissive.
Each side should define their limits
whether they’re hard or soft
it’s important to understand
you get what you give
in this world.
Lastly, always keep things
safe and sane. Good luck
*If you’re interested in learning more about the D/s lifestyle I’ve created a series of 12 lessons for both Dominant and submissive. Let me know and I’ll help.*
With eyes raised up in attention
nothing ever gets by her
and instead of blurting out an answer
she asks for permission instead.
There are simple rules really,
one must ask to speak privately
with permission of course.
The words always come officially stamped,
she’s allowed to speak freely.
Oh to dream while one is awake,
it’s easy to imagine,
look towards the moon-lit sky
focus on a particular position
and simply say what’s on your mind.
In this simpler way,
it’s easier to inch-up and whisper,
so she places her cupped little mouth
perfectly against his ear.
In this young reachable hour
she slips her question into position.
Curves compliment her beauty
the others can’t help but stare,
just as his eyes fall down into hers.
Their image is timeless
they stare and hold the position.
It’s their first upscale event
in this, the time honored
cave of enlightenment
where they’re expected to perform a role.
The top and bottom alike
are both amazing,
just look a certain way
with more and more eyes
staring at the both of them.
People start to talk and whisper
a high flying depth of conversation
she kneels to accept him.
Tipping her chin upward,
eyes avoid eyes,
with a fistful of hair
he reaches to adjust her collar.
Her choker, marks the remarkable day
she is now owned and truly alive.
I’ll come there
I promised I’d prop you back up.
We probably won’t be able to talk
for a while at first though.
Words aren’t enough this time,
they’re too stuck inside
to say anything helpful right now.
It’s probably fine though, you won’t mind
sorting out the voices inside.
This past month has shoved you
a little too close and hard.
I promise I’ll put you on your feet,
if you promise, to get your voice
up and ready.
Oh it’s going to take both of us
again this time to get the words out.
I can put you up in a high rise, for a while,
stay until you’re ready come down
and fall. I promise I’ll pick you up.
We can blame the clouds for the tears,
no one has to know at first.
I promise you can practice on me,
to scream, and yell telling me to fuck off.
I’ll put a thousand dinner plates
freshly on the countertop,
let them smash inside, instead of you.
I’m sitting here on the outside
this time worried because
I’ve sat here before, holding my mom.
I’ve paused for a while now
stuck at that last thought.
I promise I won’t blink.
Seriously, I’ll make sure you land safely.
Promise you’ll stay in the high rise,
just give me an hour or so down here
before I pick you up
to practice on me.
I’m finding it hard in fact
to understand why
my conversation was ever interupted.
She had other plans for sure tonight.
Hurry and get ready!
She gave access as motivation
and then stared deeply,
with eyes that refused to stop
from breaking a world record attempt.
I eventually convinced myself to accept
the things that made little to no sense
were well worth her spontaneous thoughts.
Every moment was a new twist
we’d clearly be having some amazing fun.
My avoidance was misunderstood,
it’s so typical me,
to be standing there all dressed and ready
waiting to use the bathroom
and run into her.
I’m not exactly sure why
this attraction is such a punch to the gut,
but I get surprised every time
she does her makeup.
Some 18 months ago
we were dressed and ready,
just like tonight,
eyes met and it was no use really
we were buried underneath her sheets
smearing and ruining her lipstick.
With the playlist into its 3rd song
we still had time to make dinner
we’d have to hurry and clean up.
Now instead, I avoid her eyes
when she’s getting ready.
It’s too much of a temptation
to take what is already mine.
Beauty has its price for sure
we’re constantly starving
for each other’s attention,
just imagine having a thirst
that is never quenched.
Tonight I had to ask,
just as I rushed to the edge
of the bathroom door
I wanted to watch you getting ready,
so I’d understand in a slightly better way
if those wings of yours
were in fact, real?
I must have danced
a thousand different thoughts
thinking how much I’ve been
loved in fact. And all of this
was started by an accident of yours
years ago by some coincedental contact.
I’m not exactly sure
how you got those wings to grow,
perfectly centered between shoulders,
so they can carry us.
I’m grateful for the support.
In a generous bear hug kind of way
we’re lifted up in the sky
I can feel your muscles working
you’re pushing too hard I think.
Out across the dangerous zones
I try not to worry anymore,
you’ll pick us up and carry us both,
to the safety of our couch
where we spend hours
looking for our next new thing.
You’re quite impressed
with my involvement
in the peaceful moments
that find us both,
moonlit or candlelight
it never really mattered why
we lay and strategize
our new soft landing spot.
In our next world
we’ve promised to meet up again.
This one being our 4th go around,
we still have so much to conquer yet,
and again, I turn with that subtle whisper
I’m dying to tell you
how much I’ll love you
all over again.
I have a mouthful of words
I’m dying to get out.
A fever has been burning acres today.
Ablaze on my skin
I turn to her, oh, she’s already gone.
Left to deal with the treasures
I know exactly which things
I’ll let burn.
The sky is prettier than I imagined,
this crimson burning in my eyes
I swear it can’t last much longer.
The clock drags its fingers across
and I can’t even begin to tell you
what so many people forgot today.
The love in the air though,
fills all the other voids.
Our special handful
they’re the ones who know
how to spend those meaningful hours
on the colored pages
we so easily flip through.
Piles of feelings get all bunched up
damming my mind
flooding the reasons why
I was thankful today was beautiful.
Unanswered or otherwise
I’m all choked up inside
try and remember why
poetry is the missing piece of me.
Everything else is easily seen,
but not this,
and you should have known better
than forget what time the sun rose today.
The choice to peek was easy at first
half squinting, still you looked,
the sun being so easy and abundant,
just giving away perfect skin
until everything changes
a permanent dark spot appears
in the field of your vision
it’s the price now.
Who cares though,
there are a million other flowers
that would love to grow
in that field of yours.
Eventually, someone all new and shiny
will act like they’re blind too,
just to sit alongside you,
and tell you how beautiful
you already are.
You’ll listen with a narcissistic stare
acting like you’ve heard none of this before.
Thank goodness though,
a full year of making new memories
it’s something to look forward to.
A love of the sandy coast
we can’t help ourselves,
but to dig in and tear into our clothes.
No one really noticed back when
we were all sunbathing last summer
free falling into each other’s open arms.
We were so weightless then
watching now seems impossible.
Scantily half dressed, almost naked
we could care less who’s watching
Skin showing, warm hands spread
evenly about the blanket.
Hands slip underneath to feel
the firm shifting sands of this earth.
My expectations are real.
I’d rather wait until we were alone.
She, on the other hand,
has this voyeuristic side
where love is so strong, it’s shared.
She turns into this sexual being
I equally want and need
it fuels the both of us.
Balanced now on the dune’s edge
careful not fall down the front.
She holds firmly to each fistful
careful to keep steady
to land the perfect kiss.
On the shores of Mexico,
while everyone back home freezes,
we’re certainly thinking of them
and sure we’ll be careful.
Not before we’ve had the chance
to finish what we started here
with the palms of our hands
the ease of the warm lotion
causes everything to work so much easier.
The pounding surfs keeps tempo,
down playing the thirst, unsatisfied
body types and weights
have no place here
everyone is beautiful today.
We spin and laugh together
comfortable in the nude
held afloat by buoyant fingers
adrift on a certain current.
Mouths hover making promises
skylit and still wanting more
we sink to the bottom
down here is when our other side
can’t help itself, but feed.
Giant sea creatures reach up and
before we know it
we’re chained to a sea bed
by these large sticky tentacles
that keep us safe and protected.
Sharing mouthfuls of virgin air
thank goodness we trust each other
going back and forth kissing
The soft and precious hour
something delicate about her body
vulnerable to the terrible cold.
We’ve been waiting since August
for the weather to finally turn.
The expectations in her bath
a performance of a lifetime.
Deviant pleasurable plans
exploit my desire
this is much more than
just soap and water.
There are definite steps
the girl slowly undresses
stepping out of a simple towel.
All of this started
with a flirtatious message,
asking if I could get her
that favorite bubble bath
from that time we devoured
the soaking hours
where time was spent inside of time.
We easily came up with a theme
for this is the start of our season.
A purposeful twist of my hand
the stinging truth of hot water
the girl inches super close
bringing sensitive body parts
underneath and against
the different surfaces.
Plain everyday objects
used to go unnoticed
until placed in our hands and minds.
To the edge of that corner
pleasure topples easily most times.
She begs to give herself over
she’ll do whatever it takes to share
lifting up on elbows, if necessary.
Holding the perfect angle
until the wave resets.
Quickly riding on top.
The water spills, causing damage
no matter how many towels are used
every time she asks for those bubbles
we divided ourselves
until expectations were spent.
Touched by her return
a sliver of an edge truly points upwards.
I turn to fully accept her,
this part of our dance, we know the steps.
Whatever the glue is that binds us
will obviously last a lifetime.
Who knew that this sticky connection
could never be questioned by either of us.
Temptation’s half full glass
will never truly empty, especially when
one cannot change who they are inside.
All built up and interwoven from time.
I turn and ask in my cryptic way,
where should we go and eat tonight?
Eventually, we come to some agreement
where to have our Friday night meal.
Everything has always started with food,
the take out desserts we couldn’t eat.
That universal hour of starvation
forever and always is at 4 a.m., it’s when I write while you sneak to the fridge.
Returning to feed me a half eaten last bite.
I miss her, even when she’s lying next to me.
It’s hard to be near her,
and not have her hand in mine.
My obvious codependent love
creates the perfect scenario for her
to come and go as she pleases or wants.
Try as I must, it’s impossible, just ask
the girl who drunk dials even when
she knows she’s walking in the ashes.
I am right there beside her,
right along with a thousand other souls
that aimlessly roam the halls.
Sure, we can say we’re sleep walking, but
this is something much more serious
the glue that binds has no quick release.
I can still remember that first kiss.
The secret touch of our tongues
slow and apprehensive at first
gauging the want vs need.
I thirst to kiss her again,
those moments would be enough to live for a lifetime.
There is something about having someone’s undivided attention.
The everlasting event of her return
must mean something.
I just need to figure it out before she
up and leaves in flight.
The city sleeps tonight
this chill keeps everyone huddled,
closed, and wrapped up inside.
It’s easy to ignore the ache and hunger.
There is something about tasting nothing,
until the sun rises causing things to stir.
Our warm nest of a bed shields us until
the alarm claws, and my eyes must wake.
I have always tried to push this moment
it’s never an easy transition,
even as soft music purrs, I reach for silence
the delicate sound helps divide my mind.
Something about that first rush of blood,
while bundled in down comforters
I squeeze my fists and thighs at once,
every muscle tightens, we entwine and stretch.
Slipping a hand to her hip, she shifts,
“We need to get going,” she whispers.
Her words fall like a hammer.
It’s always a personal challenge because
it’s easy once you get going,
it’s that first step that breaks the bond.
With blinding orange lights
now flooding the room, it’s precious.
Our skin turns a momentarily to a glow,
the sun is tepid, the room is still.
I climb her little shoulder, she turns
I’m allowed the cheek, avoiding the kiss.
Standing in that frozen room
I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.
Warm water starts the remedy.
She loves being served,
the sun has inched higher
filling the room with a glowing brightness.
Birds are the best though,
softly from a distance marks the morning.
Each new day is filled with thankfulness.
With warm towels and cups of tea
I help with the routined balance.
She has this cyclical way
that I love to watch. The voyeur perhaps,
everything is shared in a way.
In that shower no matter the rush
we make time to make love or fuck.
Standing toe to toe with her
the rounds have all been
scored and counted.
Eyes up into eyes this time
she squares her opponent up.
She figures he’s an easy mark
simply lull him to trust again,
there’s no way he’d fall for it.
For a while, they danced around
making promises of taking it easy.
Slowly, to the center of the ring he went
surely he’d never see it coming
with lightening fast speed
it was all over The knockout.
In his daze he remembered
she had already set eyes
on yet another opponent.
Something about needing the next fight.
He already knew
there would be no real way
of getting out of the ring unscathed.
Eventually, the effects would ease
the headaches would get further
and further away from him.
With scorecards counted and tabulated
came this big voiced announcer
“Ladies and gentlemen
we have a unanimous winner.”
With the crowd wildly cheering
hope laid in her future.
With frenzied joyful excitement,
the victor was led away on shoulders.
It wasn’t until things had settled
the ring had long been but forgotten
who had truly won
when it came right down to it?
The undisputed champion?
I think not.
all punch drunk from love.
Still unable to use the words
that made her so masterful.
She’ll go in search
for her next great opponent
leaving this one
like it meant nothing to her.
I think I knew
I couldn’t get it right,
because I knew
my resolution’s fate.
Here I’m now
fighting a lopsided fight.
The girl with charms
will always get me every time.
See, I can’t see
beyond this night
come tomorrow I’ll go blind
and forget the resolution promise.
I seriously want to be,
her only reason,
for wanting to set
her promise straight.
Stare at me
straight in the eyes,
because I want to see
what you’re thinking tonight.
When words like these
come at me fast
it’s hard to see
what she’s dying to ask.
I can’t pretend
that I’m not really interested
it’s hard to fake
I don’t have any feelings.
I promise and swear
to sharpen my focus
it will be import to share,
just what I’m thinking.
If by chance,
you happen to read this first
could you do me a solid
and undo the hook?
You’re here to last
I understand the course
I’ve already sworn
my resolution to be yours.
because it’ll be just us
hearing the words.
I could whisper mine
because I know I’ll need
you to play a part
don’t laugh as I stumble
and fall all apart.
I wish I knew,
just how to love
without you here
witnessing it all.
Words on a mission
trying to convince a girl
I’ll probably need more of her.
Sure, I expect her to react
to the spring in the jets.
It’s just that I’m feeling
everything is so different
especially with her.
She can give a curious look,
right along with her lay-low
get down commands.
Time and attention is always hers
after all, she’s a first-time girl.
It’s all very easy now
to read the quality of her thorn.
She turns to look back
eyes up into eyes this time
she insists I throw away
that new pair of sunglasses
I won’t be needing them anymore.
This time though,
it’s all very easy to see why
she wants a choker necklace.
The others are sure to know
the clasp sits close to her skin now.
Giving the control,
she accepts a pretty place
here in the pit of my stomach.
I grab and take her inside
so our agoraphobic mannerisms
won’t seem so out of place.
It’s so much easier now
to order in.
I’ve put all my cards
on the lap of this perfectly flawed girl.
We can very easily sidestep the system.
She loves giving her sex
fully clothed or otherwise
today is a continuation
from last night
when she gathered her clothes
in a scattered bundle.
This time though,
we’re gonna go on slow
keeping time to ourselves
while I conquer this current taste of words.
With bellies just half full
I don’t mind sharing,
feeling or feeding things
to her mouth.
just before she takes a breath
“We’ve got this.”
She just left with my feelings in her bag.
I watched her,
while she picked up the trail of things
in reverse order.
It took hours
for her to get ready earlier,
but seconds to undress
showing me the difference
in her body now.
Fuck, I love her.
A night with heavy love-making
it was strange driving her
all around this familiar town
with our eyes closed
it was easy to feel her.
I’ve always said I’ve loved Violet.
She’s just recently returned.
This time though, she has no limits,
both of us have been drinking
from a fountain of youth.
Tonight we moved mountains,
it’s a shame seeing her leav’n.
I love having her this close again
we promised we’d try to last
longer than the holiday season.
She’s much prettier now,
especially since coming off my shoulders.
Everyone knows the system,
I give her my attention,
she shares her curves.
I promised I’d have words ready for her
before she got all home
from carrying her bundle
listening to deep base thumping tunes.
Songs rang from playlists
that came much earlier.
There was never any doubt
I’d fall in love all over again with her.
Laundered and cleaned
the evidence of her game
I can’t help this feeling,
she’s just leav’n, she’s promised
not to throw this time away
come tomorrow, she’ll return
she swears, she’s not lying.
I already miss her and her sex in this.
Like the way she…
And how she…
She takes every position serious.
A certain song keeps skipping
in my mind, figure it out.
I have to hurry and get this out
It’s a new year and
everything is new again.
Things are just start’n all over
she’s a definite 10 out of 9.
You know how it goes,
if I show her I’m try’n
she’ll beg to return and share her curves.
I love you baby,
here are your words,
just as I promised.
With unquestioning eyes
she has arrived unannounced.
Violet returns to the side of me
where she has already left once before.
She’s returned to give
her blessed mark to me.
Come tonight, she’ll beg to give
whatever it takes, to use her body twice.
This intense desire of hers
marks her official return.
With a hand as a gentle reminder
she pulls my body on hers.
With everything going as desired
I cup and pinch her breasts
with a hand that is hidden
from all the onlookers.
She falls back and looks up,
with this awe struck smile.
Words have never meant
as much as this before.
She has strung all my words
in frames across her room.
With lyrics that are timeless now
it’s much easier to remember the past.
Entwined, just like how it was
when her devotion
punctured my lung
I couldn’t breathe.
I have this love-torn need for her.
To simply lay,
and actually feel the girl.
It’s easy to come alive again
we shift, and I take control.
She gives whatever I want from her.
Easy are the familiar things,
she speaks these fancy words
that make her much more desirable.
With toes that never really
touched the ground.
She flits to the dangerous edge
bringing me alongside her,
together, we peer at the bottom below.
She asks, “Will you jump with me now?”
And before I could answer her
She leapt, pulling the both of us
towards the jagged ground.
Just as we were sure to be destroyed
she squarely kissed me really hard
swearing she was never
Hiding her in the pit of my stomach
it’s hard to think of having her
next to the girl, I’m supposed to marry.
I can’t tell if this sickness is really something
more than a 24-hour bug,
it’s just, I can’t hide her
inside my head any longer.
I’ve felt this love-drawn-sickness
for years now, and still
she has no idea
she’s my biggest secret.
The wedding being my idea
maybe it would force me to choose,
but I’m no closer to telling the truth.
The truth, my elusive caring stranger
always tugging at my insides
struggling not to hurt any feelings.
It all started by accident really
I simply went to a friend
to talk about a girl,
and as I stood there describing
one glaring thing hit me,
she’d been here all along.
It’s all together something different
if I go through and marry
it’s perfectly sensible
to want someone stable
who doesn’t know I write.
Right in front of me
was something I had been blind to
she didn’t want to stand too close.
She already knew
the dangerous poet
and how words
truly meant something else
to those of us
who can spin words
into something lyrically.
This wasn’t my intention,
to fall in love all over again
with a friend
who knows all my vulnerable sides.
I understand I fell,
it’s made no sense to me
how I keep praying
like that’s going to change anything.
I keep thinking
how the tangled web
will somehow unweave itself.
It doesn’t help
that the wedding is next week
just after the Christmas break.
I want the girl
who didn’t choose to be,
but was kind enough
to be a friend
and listen to me.
There are easy ways to give and accept control.
Pretend if you can,
because I really don’t want to ask
a hundred more times,
if you can see this place
where a King and Queen live.
I’m all excited to share
where things are hanging around
waiting to tie and mark your skin.
Without ever truly understanding
how all this meandering really works
I’m here to explain the inner dealings
the Dominant and His submissive.
I’d hate to drag you
to where all the lights shine,
unless of course,
it’s somewhere you really want,
or need to belong.
The choice to touch
might not always yours to make,
we just need to run faster
than our current tepid pace.
Come close to the edge
I swear I’ll reread,
every word in every book if you want.
Hurry before the pages get all sticky
and it becomes impossible to read
about a King and His Queen
sick with fever
that makes everything
just impossible to be around and exist.
Do whatever it takes
so you won’t catch this
addictive D/s fever.
Hurry and keep running,
the onlookers are close to the touch
they’re gonna take you back
because you’re considered theirs.
Come disappear in a world
full of Royal characters.
The King and Queen perhaps
where delivered ultimatums
come from just one source.
Then after a while,
you’d start to see tiny changes
how pronouns are capitalized or lowercased.
Their role depends
on the give and take.
Someone is always on top
while the bottom truly guides
the all important energy source.
Kissing the heel or boot
kneeling to please
forever always trying to hold a tongue
her precious thorn.
Inside the patterns of seven
it’s a loaded gun
against the 13 lessons.
If I were to ask
try and wait for the instructions
that will guide you to a place
of all consuming love-devotion.
it’s dangerous to give of yourself
completely to this new world
of language and expectation.
Hard decisions are even harder now,
because you have to think
of the right words and answers
in the exact perfect time
based on what someone else might think.
Frustration runs divine
to all the newcomers
who can’t quite see
what it is they’re trying to read.
My advice: Reread a thousand times.
If you truly want and need
the blessed attention.
No one is ever going to show you
the proper way to ask why.
Maybe this latest writing
no sense like nonsense.
Especially this coded idea
asking permission properly.
There are others who
will read these words
and beg for the honor.
Maybe we’ve lost the years
where the Kings and Queens
would demand this kind of attention,
that I’m here asking.
Even rarer still,
having someone who
has the keys to a Garden
that is asking to kneel.
Addiction just wasn’t something
I ever thought I’d have to pay.
In order to experience this kind of girl
meant I’d have to go
to different kind of place.
The truth serum
slipped easily into veins,
it’s hard to admit
at being such a
right and wrong we’re staring at me
directly in the face.
The only excuse I can give,
for being such an addict,
I was trying to play a game
I was obviously not very good at
and so I listened to her messages
brought on by her needled tongue.
Maybe it’s true instead,
I needed her pleasurable mouth
using all kinds of words
that I never really knew
before all of this had gotten started.
Now I wake each morning
pretending I don’t need her drug,
but in reality, I’ll go crazy
trying to replicate this fix I need.
That warm flood of pleasure
threatening to cause an end.
Yesterday was never coming
I’m now stuck in a thorn tree
where we love-junkies
are meant to be.
and both of us are caught equally
underneath life’s spotlight
with our pleasure soaked hands
palms face up surrendering.
Empty words fill the images
where we pay such a high price
being all love-rich
it seems so ridiculous now
because come tomorrow
we’re going to be stuck here.
Maybe I’ll never leave her side
I know I’m trapped by this girl
sociable or otherwise
I can’t help myself
but to offer up my wrists
and just let her
have her way.
From the start
the kissing hour was my surprise
I was mixed up inside.
Maybe luck was down for an hour.
She wanted to fully take me
to set me free from between her legs.
We always promised,
we’d ride for hours.
Broken or otherwise
it never really mattered because
that thing inside
was in the both of us
I can still see myself
standing in her eyes,
it didn’t matter much
that I was always blind
when it came to my own eyes.
Always praying to a false Gods,
it’s not the worst sin,
not by a long shot. Never mind my mind.
It’s just, I swore to be good.
Now that my second empire
is fully aware of where I’ve just come,
I can honestly clutch the sorrow in
knowing all too much.
From inside a perfect thing
this is how it feels
to be kept waiting,
while you’re fucking around.
Sentenced to stay and serve,
happy, even if,
I wanted the sentence at first,
just not anymore.
There’s something about
while looking forward
always pleading my case,
only to get denied.
With no excuses left,
I’ll accept the second Kingdom.
Attention can’t help temptations fate,
walk with me now,
just promise that you’ll leave me alone.
I’ll promise to let you win, even if
you can’t promise
to give me some fucking space.
I know it’s not what you want,
but truth turns the world upside down.
I can still stand outside your window
and count the number of dreams
that seem to come and go so easily.
24 hours in bed with my lover.
A girl who supposedly knows
how to get the best out of me.
The sorrow is,
that each new night
I have to fall in love with her
all over again.
I guess I don’t know how
to fall without landing
in a dangerous position.
she understood all along,
but then it’s my word against hers.
Each morning I fight
to be alongside her,
I guess that’s why,
I’m moving on without her.
I have to admit
it was always easier
having her hand in mine,
but this was long before
she slept the night with him.
On the surface,
everything new and beautiful
will at some point start to erase.
Yesterday, like all the rest
iniquitous signs came to light.
Companionship came along with
it’s true fair warning,
Even from this sensitive place
no one saw what was coming.
Beauty will eventually betray.
When all along
should have been enough
to keep the faith going.
Now on broken knees to palms.
Obviously, there is a glitch
in this kind of thinking
where being affectionate with one
would be enough.
Only few are granted
that rare and cherished gift
to be the ones whom
we rely on most.
When all the well wishing
has gone and dried up
to be left that friendship
the true mark of companionship
the true mark of love.
What takes place
in the hundreds of hours
in true deep discussion
can be easily lost.
Nothing happens by accident
somewhere recent or a long time ago
the wish was whispered
to back of a God’s ear
and it’s been answered.
Do not take
being a friend
The favorite places
so often locally visited
aren’t accidental happenstances,
just as an excuse suggests
some other meaning
make no mistake
friendship is a powerful plan.
would proudly suggest,
to stay in your own lane,
and for the most part we have.
These, are the thoughts
of a poet perhaps,
who has chosen
with careful consideration
the weight of these words.
Don’t pretend you can’t understand
that softens the message.
The flawed friend at hand
exists in all of all of us,
it is in our judgement and character
most apologize and ask for forgiveness.
Such iniquitous acts,
happen all the time.
So why focus on this decision?
It’s just hard to understand
the friend who was asked
to be my loyal companion.
It wasn’t like I wanted
a sculpture carved from granite.
Simply scratch something simple,
an easy kind of friendship
from the softest rock known to man.
Yet, here we are,
the soapstone friendship
exactly where it was left.
Forgiveness is beauty
our Gods have taught us that
when even the simplest of tasks
can be another person’s
still, we must forgive.
The lesson at hand
is always expect and ask
a person to be faithful
and cherish the friendship.
That inner pleasure source
where you swear your God exists,
it's in that last place
you’re always forgetting where to look.
I don't want redemption now
or a refill from a newly found stash.
Step back and look at the totality,
that corner part of your soul,
where you swore
you wouldn’t look at anymore.
I must of heard this commotion
a hundred times or more,
please God, if you can help me
just this once
it will be a last and final time.
Eventually, the events
will start all over again
things will begin to build.
The risk of taking the chance
in believing in a God
is a sorrowful dance
where the God may not respond.
Sometimes when words are spoken
they get tangled and lost
It might take one hundred times
before we care care to listen.
Don’t ignore that feeling you get
after you've prayed for hours
and yet, some will never see
the miracle just performed
because their eyes are slightly jaded.
Instead, people insist on following
their hollow and or false Gods.
My apologies, if I've misstated
the drugged out relationships
we’ve previously fought for.
Let me tell you
there is this warm
a weighted blanket of sorts
that can pin and kiss your shoulders closed
it's a divine love-drawn feeling.
Take a chance today
get ahead of your thoughts
squarely kiss the delicate corners
of a tough decision.
Share your mind
with the rest of us
fill our love-controlled lives
where we're asked to write about
how it is to feel.
I can tell you I've saved the years
absorbed by some ill fated condition
that causes night sweating fevers
to be an excuse for all my writings.
I love you
it's an absurd condition I know
to be here praying
to a God I love
I'm not sure she's listening.
To the backs of hands
I can smell her windowless touch
in a building that's been all smashed out.
She's buried herself away
I'll pray even harder still
I haven't made a monument in forever,
since the old days
when I believed I was so much older.
I'm no longer afraid
to lunge and jump
reaching for hopeless love.
I am still the first to admit
that greed and desire are hard to fake.
Passion, on the other hand,
is never satisfied
unless of course
you know how to spin the bottle right.
Right? I hate having to ask you why
you're coming in so late
maybe it's another one of your nights
that I'm not supposed to mention
instead, I'll open a book
with ridiculously thin pages
and pretend I'm reading.
There's no way I could be expected
to memorize words that are forgotten
or no longer practiced.
It's been a lifetime
since I've seen you act in a way
where you cherish and hold sacred
the words on these delicate pages.
A two thousand year event,
as the story goes horribly wrong
some would say "sideways."
I can't profess I know
how to pray in a way
where I can hide the sins
from an hour ago.
I feel like we've come pretty far
since those days when we
fought for sunrise
to stay the fuck away.
Yesterday I was told about an event
silence wasn't a negotiated part
of the ancient contract
that I suppose
is what makes up this drug-like feeling
where 12 hours is a milestone.
Each new dipping
I swear I'll get a handle on this condition
it just feels too right
sitting here spilling
a string of very thoughtful images
hoping that you'll get your vision
and see these words
instead of trying to read them.
Lines of love clearly drawn out
there sits this tiny bungalow
deep on the inside of me.
I keep to my words
my mistress on a frontline I suppose.
Always having some emotion to write about.
There sits this intriguing blueprint
where devotion takes on this
In an ancient relic of a contract
paper and its corners are torn
written in a long forgotten format
the terms and conditions clearly drawn.
We must of have sworn our love
from sometime long ago
because I keep writing and writing
about something I can’t quite
put my hands around.
I reach and grasp for its proper meaning,
but my poems keep missing the mark
perhaps tomorrow I’ll have improved my aim.
I’ve been instructed to keep on writing.
Yet, our own self confidences
help with the frustrations
seemingly always having so much time to console.
We have always kept a peaceful eye
amidst a joyful outcry,
it was dust I swear
that made me tear.
From never before
have I ever felt so possessed
by this spectacle that is born within me
a need to share the same space.
Love has always been garnered as the biggest prize,
and I know for sure
that in order for this connectedness to take hold
there must have been a crystallization
something written between the both us.
Our living contract,
thusly, creating our permanent love blockade.
There are the driest of deserts
where seemingly nothing grows,
and yet, they can find us there.
Me and the girl
photographing what lay ahead in our journey,
sometimes with film, sometimes with nothing at all.
Massive sand dunes mark our friendship.
Our bond has gone on quite easily
its abundance understood
both us, quietly building the foundations
These tiny crystals cover the earth.
With just the tiniest of stirring
huge dust clouds form
causing everything in its path to be devoured.
my instance, allowing my eyes to see.
She understood and fed that excitement
making sure to dress and expose herself
in just an exact way with nothing ever repeated.
Her desires reached deep into me
pulled and defined this love blockade.
This love affair was born from a free romance
a blazing sunlight that burnt both our souls.
Temptation we coaxed underneath the stars
naked bodies were never more exposed.
We kept our holy promises,
born by these sacred convictions
we were forever devout in our faith.
Just as she stands here, besides me
our words have been transfixed into grasps.
We have drawn our own safety lines,
walls are built for enemies,
and still we have none.
No matter where we go on travel
in and amongst the peaceful land
we are always reminded
the kind and beautiful people
always extending hospitalities hand.
There is this grit in our bond
a kind of attitude of stoic reverence
where we take the spirit of our companionship
and cherish it above all others.
We share this DNA code
an extremely strict way of knowing how
our empire was ready to seize control.
Perhaps our seduction
was born from a place
where love’s intoxicating fumes cloud
to block all intimidations.
Unsurmountable or otherwise,
I can only count on all the others
to come bear witnesses to this love.
Watch how we incorporate our language.
We do so without loud voices
or throwing iced things.
Soft and amazingly pure
her hands spread softly
in this is timeless connectedness really,
me, and this ancient girl.
What towers and is sure to divides us
are these great structures within
that give us our convictions
our memory guides and their desires.
For centuries I have fought for her
never doubting that if I stayed the course
adding stone after stone
that this love blockade
would never require walls.
I want the television to tell the truth.
I promise to search and save the titles
to my profile.
we’ll commit ourselves
to the asylum of our bed.
We’ll lay and binge watch
Season and episode 1.
I’d be much happier if,
we could agree on the same title.
We could fold up
and ruin a beautiful Sunday together.
Close the world out
blackout curtains and all.
We’d be so grateful
when we’d finally commit
on the thing we’d watch.
There’s no greater feeling
than when we’re hooked
and can’t turn it off.
These forever hours
are what make us
touch and grab onto this place.
Somehow the junk food has no guilt,
and yet we’re always mindful
to leave the last bite.
Hand feeding each episode
we’d stop to talk, eat or go pee.
Let the twisted world
spin on around us
as our addiction feeds.
Missed we knew,
we wouldn’t be.
Role playing out in front of the other.
I swear it’s just you
that gets and understands me.
You’re my superhero,
I pretend not to notice.
Satisfied in watching you
saving the day for all the others.
this streaming channel,
letting us spend a handful of years
binge watching all at once.
Hours spent counting the connection
each tiny moment an investment.
Frustratingly slow movements,
still, time had no interest
just as long as we remained committed
to saving and putting
stupid mistakes on hold.
in other words,
had no real penalties or defaults.
With enough in our savings by now
we could look forward to some spending.
A birthday was coming soon.
Without any of the usual interruptions
there were no real worries
about those large withdrawals to come.
Money spent came from money earned
we knew we had enough to go around.
The source of all this wealth
seemed all too abundant
time was getting easier and easier
to balance and control.
Our future had always had
been dependent towards
each other making smart decisions.
There is a risk of course,
this kind of dangerous currency
could easily fade in a moments notice.
In other words,
vacant silent days, coupled with
Was all that it took
to instantly collapse the account
into a kind of foreclosure.
The valued love-pin access
was now rejected at every try.
Love-currency no longer in demand.
Void of all meaningful deposits
the love-sick experiment
had all but crashed and failed.
Devalued in its collapse
there were no more shares to give.
Time that was once so honored,
so excited by the tiniest of gains
now lay in bankrupt ruin.
be careful how you spend yourself
don’t let love-sick hours
into or next to your bed.
Tempted by nostalgia perhaps,
a younger freer youth
what was once planned and coveted
sits now like love’s pyramid scheme.
A get rich quick fool
everything has been stolen or sold.
came with a price
sure to go back to our other lives
where we simply try to exist
from paycheck to paycheck
with no real plan,
just to make ends meet.
One of my favorite places
is where I’m walking
through neon streets
with headphones making it impossible
to stop and start a conversation.
24 hours can take an eternity,
just as the night drags and soothes
the sun can drown all our eyes
making enlightenment that much harder.
The weight of the last few days,
truthful or otherwise,
the quiet has been an amazing silence
a place where I can truly dream.
Dreaming against a pillow-less night
especially now that we’re having all this
recoverable rain and such,
it makes the air that much easier
to take a huge breath in.
We’ll relax in order to breathe.
There’s still time to love and hate
the same emotions really,
they both can get us hurt,
unless of course,
we’re in another one of our
it’s fine here right now
I could of just as easily
left these words in my pocket,
but instead, I chose to pull them through
this word-press apparatus
allowing all the others to read.
My compromise has always been
that, in order for the world to get
their fresh dose of poetry
I’d have to open up my world
on a morning where I’d just preferred
to dream in bed all day.
Now I know,
I’m a love-sick girl
collecting all the pretty words
stringing them out in our ring of posies,
where we all fall down.
Hoping against hope
someone will get my meaning.
Slow-motion or otherwise,
I already know,
not to get all involved with
how everyone else feels because
I can’t control how they pray.
Now I know
these last few imperfect days
have meant more to me
than all the well balanced
8 hours of perfect sleep.
Around a tightly woven fist
she tiptoes and balances,
her entire body,
on a centered square inch.
There is no one left to save her,
he steps forward with her instructions.
She nods with the go ahead.
For a girl who has never truly given
she’s about to hand her leash to him.
Bound by the four corners
of their negotiated contract
their safe word is buried in her throat.
Her stoic eyes are set into his.
She’s determined to see this through
comfortable enough to settle in
he wraps her wrists around cords,
she tests their strength
by hanging limp.
Tempted by the Gods of fate
she’s waited her entire life for this.
Her instructions were clearly understood,
bring her out of her gilded cage.
Make her face love’s playful edge.
Stepping into her ankle restraints now
he prefers her heels to remain
it’ll give his tall frame an advantage.
The perfect angle to her bottom.
Properly secured, the girl has this
prideful stance, he can’t wait break.
To bring her down,
biting on her lower lip, and yet,
she’s been instructed to keep it all in,
until she’s told she can let it out.
Understand these sessions of theirs
they’re never done as a punishment.
She’s to look and wear her favorite corset.
Gothic Steampunk, something she knew,
was sure to please him. Remember,
he’s her pleasure source
Together, they chose
the strength of the leathers to be used.
Pleasure mixed with pain,
it takes some practice
to get things just right.
He wants to leave the tiniest of marks
on her polished bottom, marks that
are left by his exact nervous hands.
She trusts in his aim,
he knows exactly where to strike.
That first “thwack” sets the mood,
he instructs, they’ll work in slow sets
a pattern of leather control.
“Is this understood?”
She answers always in a certain way,
“If it pleases you Sir.”
It prompts an even harder “thwack”
To her surprise,
a wetness trickles, she’s not quite sure
at what just happened to her body.
There was one sure thing though
she felt his control, control her body.
By the time her welts started to take shape,
he was prepared with ice in hand.
There was something about,
this need in the girl, to beg.
“Please Sir, if you wish to continue…”
With one everlasting correction
the whip was void of passion
and it truly stung.
“You’ll hold your tongue, is this understood?”
She obeyed with just eyes this time.
‘Topping from below’
was not going to be tolerated.
Delicately tipping her submissive chin,
she waited for him
to continue their Black Friday session.
She turns with an open wrist
to the faucet’s hot stream,
and the harder she tries
to heat her blood
the further she slips away.
She fears these nights
without any affection
confirm she’s been turned down.
The longer she lingers
her fears play in her mind.
In this dreamed perfection
she’s afraid to close her eyes.
Everything was triggered
perceived by rejection
she hated denial’s words.
She swore she’d never want
or ever depend
on another again.
Yet, here she finds herself
lost in a flooded sink.
She stares straight ahead
into her bathroom mirror
her fogged silhouette
is hard to discern.
She whispers softly to herself,
her submission was never truly given.
Here as she stood in front of the sink
it was time to choose again.
Her delicate wrists
and the faucet’s hot water
or a chance in a new relationship.
Across her vanity
layers of tiny bottles
are filled with truth serums
cluttering her shelves.
Her hands are far from soiled
she’s been clean for years.
Whispering her chanted prayers
she holds firm to the counter.
The floor having been already swept
all the sharp edges cleared.
She waits, in her proper position.
The counting hours have begun,
her stolen charms,
have all been but collected.
Having made her decision,
the new relationship,
she offers her wrists
as the reward.
sit and stain virgin pages.
Pretty are the words,
hands are clasped behind the back.
Submission wrapped around a pencil
he was the Queen’s poet.
Keeping eyes from eyes this time,
while in a praying position,
he begs for her control.
Her swift decisions
are always final.
The days keep rolling,
just as her popularity grows
she’s all too distant.
He, in charge of her words
beautiful lyrics made for entertainment.
Whatever he wrote,
was ignored, almost neglected.
He could only write to himself,
about a woman in control.
She was ruling in a dominant male world,
until one day,
the order was given
“Go gather his writings.”
The royal inspection
years of words had been created
sitting heavily in his throat.
created this fear invoked reaction.
“She can’t read all of them!”
The reply, dryly said,
“The Queen’s Command.”
His eyes fell desperately
on all his writings
hoping he had cleverly disguised
his serious thoughts of judgment.
In her open hands
golden treasures adorn her room
her chamber was filled with his poems.
His eyes were folded downward,
crisp were her words
Her stare heavily upon him,
“So Poet, you think you know me?”
Baited was the question.
Forcefully biting lower lip
his response needed to be guarded.
Her polished tone then grew louder
“Do not make me ask again!”
A surprising moment, as he stood,
looking directly into her,
“Yes My Queen, I know you.
I have witnessed kindness
one time offering to pay
more than the negotiated price.
I’ve seen your cunning fists
with little or no remorse
like the sentence of a starving thief
repayment being his head.”
These freely spoken words
hung heavily in her room.
That first look,
standing toe to toe with her
it was the first time
he felt the stinging rapture
now in her eyes.
Her poised golden stare
such a beautiful treasure,
if her eyes were to be his last
then so be it.
Effortlessly, she circled him
hand touching the back of his neck.
Standing ominously in front of him
a finger was placed under his chin.
“You’ll listen to me,
is this understood?”
such chances come just once,
and if death were to be his sentence
then let it be done.
He stood and fully,
Kissed her untouched lips
The risk of touching her
was a defiant test for sure
that most would not have taken.
They lay ravished
with fruit-stained hands
slowly dripping nectar.
The Queen no longer
The Poet being her release
weaving the most beautiful of stories
under a drunken moon
the finest of silken sheets they lay under.
the seconds in hours.
Just one season
was stolen from the erotic Gods.
This was the only place
for her to be taken.
Deep within his hands
her trust was unconditional
words rolled across the other.
Feverishly making love
it was then, she made this gentle promise,
“From now until forever
I will know of no other.”
She softly touched his cabernet lips,
Days slipped into months.
The kinds of months
that lasted for seasons,
three to be exact.
She was seemingly away
on an endless vacation.
This, her poet,
wrote feverishly for her.
The Queen had captured him
and kept him in her sacred temple.
Hours he spent writing in the dark
just he, and his candlelit flame.
Eyes became desperately tired
evident drops were dripping
the virgin paper, now wet.
Touched by her inner corners
he longed for her
perfumed laced scent.
The taste of her hair
against her late night whispers.
He would catch himself
turning and looking,
but just echoes he feared.
Then out of nowhere
his door burst open.
“Gather your things.”
A stunned reversal
how everything had just changed,
but then a surprised instruction,
“Leave those writings.”
A confused look,
and then he remembered
he knew his Queen.
The Queen’s mood was clearly evident
vibrantly full of a new energy.
Yet, She was distastefully distant.
Wanting her to clear the confusion,
he paused and stared.
His poems were in golden frames
circling her entire room.
Some hope he carried,
until the wave of her hand
dismissed all hope.
They stood their in the center
of their once ravenous room.
Instinctively, he reached for her.
She graciously turned to him
and offered him his comfort.
He was the only one
allowed to touch her
in this kind of way.
she started with a whisper,
“You once said you knew me.”
He looked sorrowfully down
he knew what was coming.
The poet replied,
“No my Queen,
I was wrong.”
She glanced, and he too
because there in the corner
was his newness.
They watched the other for a reaction
for tiny movements,
and then she spoke,
The Poet fell forward
desperately against the child’s bed.
such gentle tears
she touched his shoulder,
“Look, he has your hands.”
The poet reached
that first touch
their little prince held firm.
The poet and baby
glanced at each other
eyes falling instantly in love.
They were allowed just this moment.
The Queen turned
and tried to explain.
He closed out her words
fighting with denial
“Please wake me from this dream.”
His gaze now upon her,
“You know not what you ask.”
A plea before the final decision
the poet was without his words.
He was instructed,
“You will let go of his child.”
Her dutiful command,
“This is the only way.”
His coarse voice mouthed
“Then I shall die a thousand deaths.”
She picked up their prince,
“No my love,
for we have your words
adorned all around us.”
She walked around her chamber
each wall covered with his poems.
She turned to face him,
“Here in golden picture frames
our prince will always know of you.
I promise to tell of our love
and how you adored him.”
The poet fought against her words,
but as he stood there
he understood her plan.
“Why did you choose me?”
She stared at him for minutes
holding their child,
until it was whispered,
“Because this world needs gentle Kings.”
Turning to conceal her own hurting
it was then the poet knew
he’d be Immortal.
Walking towards heavy doors
“When our son is king and asks why,
The Poet paused,
Looking squarely into her.
These next five words were choking him.
“It was the
*The poet is escorted out of her chamber*
She came at me
with a needle and tourniquet,
and that addict part of me
really had no other choice,
but to extend my virgin side,
so she could inject herself
deep inside of me.
A nirvana like rush
my heart is dangerously close
to needing a Narcan dose.
We fuck for the first real time
and there’s something about her
really firm ass in my palm
I can spank her hard.
Just as the drug finally calms
we plateaus in each other’s arms.
I like her a lot,
in and out of consciousness
I can hear her voice pulsing in my ear,
she bites and claws at my skin
I can tell this is going to be
a night of competitiveness
tit for tat.
Our pretty bodies fold in flame
too afraid to go outside
the air is too dangerous to breathe.
There’s no use fighting it,
she injects herself again
deep inside of me.
I fall straight back on my back
watching the ceiling fan blades turn
she takes me inside her mouth
for 20 minutes or so,
she’s devoted to my attention.
I fade in and out again
that Narcan dose is close
lying next to my lover
waiting for the drugs to calm.
There’s this very bold and shiny world
where want-to-be girls
dress up to accentuate their curves.
And all of us have no real issue
paying the admissions price.
Crammed and popular still,
we watch with a curious smile.
The girls look stunningly real.
It’s fun watching this crowd
“who is or isn’t”
one can’t help themself
to be touched by a tug of sympathy.
Imagine if you will,
having to travel from city to city
putting on this huge production
in order to share your exaggerated beauty.
Outwardly so sexual and real
yes, their acts were well performed
at one one point the queen emcee
asked the crowd,
“what is your sexuality?”
God forbid, if you were a straight male
the emcee had issues with us
questioning why we’d possibly be there?
Being judged by a lesbian drag queen,
oh the irony of having certain parts.
It’s sometimes a struggle to show it off,
even if, you’re born with the goods
take a chance and share with us
you’re so very popular now
all because of us in the mainstream.
Dance, drag queen, dance
just don’t judge us
in the crowd.
With something new
up into eyes.
I know I’ve seen
this look before,
still, she’s hovering
over my shoulder
giving me this thing to drink.
I look and half scan
making sure that the girl and I
share whatever is in this can.
With heavy sips
we finish, and toss whatever that was aside.
It is then that we start
to secretly hatch out this plan.
I interrupt our deviant scheming
to slam her with a kiss.
For this, the girl
who can make me feel
like no one has
or ever will.
I tell her I want to stop
not now, it’s too soon.
There’s not enough
for this plan has not been thought through.
She looks with this lustful want,
and that tone
interrupts and changes
completely in love
she pushes to pull me
I look into her
paying full attention to the want.
and even harder still,
to the point,
we can’t focus on anything else.
And in this moment
and in this time
she’s the center and
the void at once.
The lust and the aching desire
she’s the place
I need and want.
I say the same kinds of words
each day on rise,
each night at rest
like it’s all I’ve ever
known or done.
Practice has become
I have repeated my verse
perhaps a thousand times
having never changed the words.
As we lay here,
having just sipped that
tonic of hers
we feel a burning
with some kind of writing
explaining how amazing it feels
to be in this sober intoxication
perhaps it’s just
our energy drink?
because I have nothing else.
is a tiny snapshot
that defines how each of us
ebb and flow in all direction.
She asks, and I say yes,
she reaches and dances
for she loves to crawl
sliding against the sharp edges of this conversation.
She continues to give
and now right in front of me,
she asks me, to
stand still and quiet.
In just that instant
I’ve been upgraded
with shiny new parts.
These pieces she’s applied
are unfamiliar at first
yet, their feel is simply perfect.
She inches close
and starts this type of talk
it’s hard to focus and listen.
She’s showing me
how to get the most
out of each little piece or part.
I stand dangerously beside her
we fit very snug,
the both of us,
in our rightful proper place.
holding tightly to her hand
the voices tease for us to jump.
She promises I can fly.
I look down
void of any doubt
and I leap
jerking her out
where we’re freely falling
naked skin is refreshing
we’re quickly heating up
perhaps all of this
is nothing more
than the sordid affects
of an energy drink
we shared an hour ago.