A Mid winter's Longing for Bloom

I ache for the inspiration of infatuation
The kinetic challenge of an equal and foil
For the tender forgiveness of acceptance
Mutual indulgences
Warm pulse filled comfort
The secret, silent language of eyes and gesture
The weightlessness of trust
The miracle of another's sentience
A fellow seeker
A partner in the quest

And some more from the more carnal corners of my mind

lust and archery

Days tick by
Tension stretches the bow
Your voice a finger
Pulling me out of frame
Holding me stead
Spreading me to turgid readiness
I'm concentrated in the string now
Quivering with desire
Fully extended
Pliable no more
Pulled to the brink with anticipatory ache
Unused energy compounds
the pressure
Your arrow poised against me
The torment of potential
Waiting
Baited for unfettered flight
Rigid with desire
for the moment when you
pluck me.

esoteric lust

dormant desire
murky depths stirred by primal incantation
the creature awakes
limbs stretch in luxurious waves of sensation
seeking...
driven by nature's mysticism
trembling with arcane need
polar opposites seek concrete warmth
magnetism of the flesh
steel girders of restraint made ephemeral
burned through by the fire of unabashed want
a graceless dance
made poetic in carnal intoxication
bewitching, pliant and pleasing
heights of bruising effervescence
playful eroticism of the nymph...

Cockroaches and History

To the cockroach on my foot last night:

Ugly invader
you danced on my toes
did you fly in the window?
or come in on my clothes?
3am's not the hour
to come near my bed.
I'm sorry for the publication
that smashed in your head.
Took a second smack
to quiet your ends
But this is not a public venue
so don't tell your friends.
An end to my resting
is all that you made
But your solo did inspire me....

to pick up some Raid.



To the History Channel.

I love you,
I must
Because I'm a nerd
your DaVinci documentaries
they were the last word.
I'd take you over almost
all but Ken Burns.
But then there are some weeks
when your programming turns.
Someone needs to say it
these weeks get quite old.
And of course it is me
who will be that damn bold.
Though History International
sometimes gets me through
There's more to all of History
Than FUCKING WORLD WAR TWO!!!!

Erotic Poetry ie: Smutfest

On Q

slow, salty drip
evaporates on fevered skin
lazily stirring my dormant desire
breath becomes sensations
long, greedy glances,
zeroing in on the prey
phermones swirl and suck in cyclonic turbulence

an angled jaw
clenched in far off meditation
the stretch of a graceful beast
secure in his size and power
fabric shifts
revealing sculpted collarbone
enciting culinary urges
my lips in unconcious gesture
feel the heat of my stare

your eyes pull me into orbit
flush my cheeks
cast my eyes down
breath struggling for control
look back
ego seeking affirmation
your attentions held
my posture adjusts of its own volition
my body recieving your gaze as a touch
a wave of shadow sensation

this is where I get off
the game interrupted in transit
I exit amist the wafted scent of your arousal
a secret smile
a last moment of indulging elation
climb back to the noise and haze
seeking relief
craving release

momentarily

A moment
guards stand down
burn not for the world
but for one
any one
this one
here
now
flesh pounding
mind tearing
my body
climb in
I have
for now
sweet dark pleasure
danger
kinetic blood
static mind
animal sense
wilderness of urges
sensation is narcotic
dragons and deamons
let loose for the chase
taste my need
touch my center
for the timeless moment
before lockdown resumes

I continue to aspire to to be the "eat me beat me lady"

I,
your porcelin puppet,
move to your urging,
pull me up
lay me waste
turn my steel to jelly
dumbshow on a secret stage
of carnal and etheral bliss

A bit more of my inner bard

Untitled


wall crumbles
velvet envelops
horizon expands
history shifts in orbit
learn it anew
blink
has the very quality of the light changed?
begin the fool's journey
pilgrim?
warrior?
ambassador?
heart swells, senses dazzle
treasure,
glory,
toys,
the waking dream,
legends fufilled
yet;
men are but men
history may crack,
paradigms shift,
moments flare and fizzle
ghosts linger
walls are more than bricks and mortar
old and bitter lessons learned anew
faithlessness endures,
men remain pawns
shadows gather on either side
left
kings and dissidents
right
small gods, martyrs in modern dress
I
other
my face is my oppressor's
they will not see
words have power
words are illusions
I
smothering, drowning
reaching out through clashing currents
hold myself afloat
exhaustion
paralysis
play the role as cast
melancholy dane
brat prince
I
not a hero
I
me
who?
who are you?




Untilted 2.0

a graceful stride,
power masked,

a secret glance,
atom of a memory,

ask not of me
I'll ask not in return,

take comfort in another's struggles
they reflect Your own,
revel in another's glory
it stirs my blood,

the magic hand of fate relies not on spectacle
but timing,
synchronicity,

events not kinetic,
but etched on souls marks of hidden majesty,
Muses in cosultation,

release control,

dreams in action,
triggers,
fancy skates the line of ethereal and concrete,

ships pass in the night
haunted lights reflecting in the waves
guiding our course,

bolstering faith,
Angels of flesh in turn.




When I run dry....


winding journey
tiny guards capped with cones
swing wide the gates
these woods know my heart
my flesh
green green green
flash of stone and steel
what king crowned this vista?
what mortal god did bless these lands?
elemental music
arranged as symphony
green green green
cobbles
a vantage where this place feels human
like a waiting embrace
enter the maze
know the puzzles and fancies of the land
ambition
comfort
home
seduction
glamour
achievement
reflection
humor
the familiar placed delibratley to be exotic
all threaded
woven in spirit
native mysticism
old world wisdom
the explorer's vision
tranquility of the east
here there be ghosts
not of men but of their dreams
who failed to wake?
that I might traverse this landscape of the unconcious
how did they know?
the corners of my heart
the planes of my mind
the angles of my life
the whimsy of my spirit?
the impossible is tangible
its surrounds
oddly humble in fruition
and I am
humbled
inspired
carry this with me
the vision of beauty
the texture of stone
the strength steel
the odors of growing things
the tastes of nobility and granduer
the echoes of Falling water.

Lake Ponchartrain Jane Doe

Because I am both morbid and sentimental, I penned this piece of verse which is dedicated to an unidentified female found in Louisiana in 1986. www.doenetwork.org search Lake Ponchartrain Jane Doe for more info.

Lake Ponchartrain Jane Doe

Lies behind the levee
flesh melting,
merging with the lake,

can the depths wash away terror?
cleanse Memory?

You...shattered.......scattered

swirl through the depths

o're the levee is beauty...
joy

Danger creeps...
shadowed alleys

Danger looms


beyond the levee

here light and darkness meet,
enchanting, seducing, whispering

Souls listen

seek kindred in crowded streets

in tiny whitewashed cities within


Secrets...
the levee knows
some keeps in
some holds back

rhythms serenade Secrets
zydeco...blues
keeping them transfixed,
languid in the swelter

Saturn approaches
thundering his winds like comus drums

Dreams Crack
levees crack

slumber disturbed
Secrets let spill

Horrors in seeps then torrents
Disembodied Faces
fragmented cries

Jane Doe swept away
the world would forget

Soul-sister I Dig
I drain
rubble
debris
all
pieces of you

agony surrounds

put You to rest
swamps next time
currents stagnated
memory evolves
lets not loose to destroy again
rebuild this city
backward glance to the lake
awed of its power
respectful of its undertow

Jane Doe goes unnamed
I see her
floating in the swamp

Name her
not Katrina
not her fault


Ophelia among her flowers
write a song to her Memory

Jane of the lake
take that name of the ages
restore to you your Dignity
pieces whole in a Memory.