An Imagined Recipe.

A death-metal, confused combination of
the disparate male persuasions that I love

mixed in with the grizzled and rugged things
are parts that define an eloquent masculinity

a mind running steadily through life’s equations
a heart beating heavily against Death’s invitations

a face holding pure semblance to any warrior king’s
and full of remembrance of all that it’s eyes have seen

his voice falls softly on the ears of those he holds dear
to his enemies, its sound connects itself wholly to fear

articulate and wise over that which this man presides
freedom’s very essence burns from deep behind his eyes

if the Gods perfected a man-brew for me specifically
built of a strange variation of what’s sexy to me

he’d fall somewhere between Batman and Matthew McConaughey
balanced by Prince Florizel, Dr. Silence and Sean Connery

his actions have no time to speak before they’re done
as he executes his moves without a word to anyone

he harbors the spirits of the most ancient beings
hardcore and savage like the lost warrior king

at the same time, he’s infused by intelligence
he writes poetry and plays musical instruments

a worldly perspective of all that he sees
the deepest of thought behind all he perceives

he can wield a battle-axe or calmly opt to speak
write a masterpiece in the timeframe of a week
this imaginary man would undoubtedly have to be
made up of Sherlock Holmes’ exquisite mentality

part DeNiro, part DiCaprio, with a dash of Dillahunt
Doc Hollywood, Shawnee Tecumseh and Timothy Olyphant

he’d never bitch or moan about irrelevant detail
he can drive, fly, swim, fight, think and hit a nail

he can wrench on an engine or write musical sheets
he can solve math equations in his deepest of sleep

he is not shy but has no need to stand out
he remembers things his mama told him about

he loves his Gods and hates universal ideology
some days he holds fast – sometimes, he sets free

he sings along with the tunes as they come to him
with words he replaces with singular improvisation

his nature is funny as Hell but warmly composed
high Native cheekbones and an aquiline nose

he would be made from varying traits and elements
pieced together like in a patchwork of history’s best

14 thoughts on “An Imagined Recipe.

  1. Simon says:

    You don’t want much do ya girl? Lol
    I wouldn’t have sex with me though, I would probably survive and if I died I don’t have 150 million. Sorry about that darlin lol

  2. Reminded me of an old Uncle of mine, describing the perfect wife. “A deaf, mute, nymphomaniac who owned a liquor store”. He married an ex-Nun, died on their honeymoon at 69, after an all day wine-tasting seminar, how damn ironic. 👀 ♥ * ͜ * ♥ 👀

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