Sinking Me.

Have you ever felt its slice? …
Never seen the flash of light? …
Weren’t you there –?
a winding road up –
to absolutely nowhere…
indulge me with your disguise;
who is to say
stupid or wise? –
I’d made up my weary mind,
treading circles in square boxes
has been suiting you just fine;
I got up off my knees,
walked away
no goodbye –
I haven’t the energy, or time;
My darling, it’s gotten old,
tired and spent
like a tooth filled with gold;
soft enough to give with force,
and allow its form to shape new mold,
but too hardened at the edges,
scarred deeply
by tragedy –
carved in her skin in big bold;
the slice that you refuse to see,
the load you aren’t willing to pull
in turn with me,
You’re sinking me.

Taken Me.

Eyes closed
face poised in pleasure
tension dissolving from its hold
unwrapping the tightly woven coils
of muscles around the bones,
clothes on the floor
tan-lines exposed
hazy tendrils floating lazily
heaven bound
nobody to tell you “no”
fingers clenching
time hard pressing
against a passion
a love story
without the love
the smoothness of
a liquid glove
I breathe you in deep
all the way to my feet
excite me
I am yours to keep
until you fail to please
for now the ember
burns white hot in these sheets
no need to wonder
just be
I surrender
myself at your feet
take me under
besiege me
rough and tender
do what you may please
sweat spilled
droplets of evidence
of the elements
to your ownership
of my willing body
paid-in-full
push and pull
you leave me on my knees
I’m yours
to throw or to hold
you have taken me.

The Yellow Sign.

repair

Long ago, had I pieced together the probability that perhaps, I am alone after all, in the conclusions that I draw about certain things;
That maybe it’s just me who finds irresistible humor peeking out from behind certain lines of antique or classic literature;

It can’t be possible that I am the lone human being to read the first part of The King in Yellow (The Repairer of Reputations) and wind up in stitches due to the superbly described relationship between the “Infernal Beast” AKA the cat – and its master, ear-less Mr. Wilde. It is so? Has nobody else found themselves laughing out loud at the simplicity of this relationship’s exquisitely worded interludes? It truly became one (if not the lone) of the most treasured morsels of the entire story line(s) the instant I first scanned this chapter with my eyes about ten years ago. And, to this day, whenever I read The Repairer of Reputations again, I find this complexity so maniacally funny that I read it several times just to tickle myself.
The VERY best part is when Hildred Castaigne tells Mr. Wilde that he intends to give the cat a hatcheting when he next finds her (after the cat has made bloody war once again on the disfigured old man, maiming his face even further), and the old man simply “shakes his head” as he’s opening the dread manuscript. There is something about this story (especially the pieces that detail the cat and Mr. Wilde) that has always been absolutely genius, in my opinion…and I couldn’t really say exactly WHY.

Doesn’t anyone else find the strange and random chunks of absolute comedy woven into this “horror” classic?

 

Running Distantly.

I remember these things,
the late afternoon’s lulling,
“G.I. Joe – A Real American Hero”,
the ‘Three’s Company’ opening theme,

the sound of an overhead airplane’s engine,
fading away to the south, as the evening draws in,
the sounds of a lawnmower, running distantly,
cutting down grass and sending the scent to me,

I remember the pipes in the walls that would moan,
a surefire way to know when someone was home,
the sound that the front gate’s dragging board would make,
the dogs in the back that always scared the Pizza Boy away,

Anticipation of dinnertime and seeing my Father’s face,
every evening, the hope of seeing him walk into our place,
the leaves skipping up our walkway alongside his tired feet,
the Gods blessed me with a Dad so dedicated and hard-working,

these things I remember, they are mine to recall,
only because of the good I had – my Dad, after all,
and I’ve never been sorry in the slightest amount,
for basking in his warmth before it was snuffed out.

Taken Me.

Eyes closed
face poised in pleasure
tension dissolving from its hold
unwrapping the tightly woven coils
of muscles around the bones,
clothes on the floor
tan-lines exposed
hazy tendrils floating lazily
heaven bound
nobody to tell you “no”
fingers clenching
time hard pressing
against a passion
a love story
without the love
the smoothness of
a liquid glove
I breathe you in deep
all the way to my feet
excite me
I am yours to keep
until you fail to please
for now the ember
burns white hot in these sheets
no need to wonder
just be
I surrender
myself at your feet
take me under
besiege me
rough and tender
do what you may please
sweat spilled
droplets of evidence
of the elements
to your ownership
of my willing body
paid-in-full
push and pull
you leave me on my knees
I’m yours
to throw or to hold
you have taken me.

Sinking Me.

Have you ever felt its slice? …
Never seen the flash of light? …
Weren’t you there –?
a winding road up –
to absolutely nowhere…
indulge me with your disguise;
who is to say
stupid or wise? –
I’d made up my weary mind,
treading circles in square boxes
has been suiting you just fine;
I got up off my knees,
walked away
no goodbye –
I haven’t the energy, or time;
My darling, it’s gotten old,
tired and spent
like a tooth filled with gold;
soft enough to give with force,
and allow its form to shape new mold,
but too hardened at the edges,
scarred deeply
by tragedy –
carved in her skin in big bold;
the slice that you refuse to see,
the load you aren’t willing to pull
in turn with me,
You’re sinking me.

A Poetic Wiseman Once Said:

John Keats (1795-1821) is the reason why I fell in love with poetry as a very, very young child.

He is hands down – my ALL-TIME favorite Romance Era Poet, and likely my my ALL-TIME favorite poet; I have included a taste of his genius to help anyone who isn’t familiar with his work become enlightened a little by its beauty and perfection. ENJOY!


“A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.”


“I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the Heart’s affections and the truth of the Imagination.”


“I am in that temper that if I were under water I would scarcely kick to come to the top.”


“Life is but a day:
A fragile dewdrop on its perilous way
From a tree’s summit”


“I want a brighter word than bright”


“Here lies one whose name was writ on water.”


“I wish I was either in your arms full of faith, or that a Thunder bolt would strike me.”


“Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget…”


“If I should die, I have left no immortal work behind me — nothing to make my friends proud of my memory — but I have loved the principle of beauty in all things, and if I had had time I would have made myself remembered.”


“And when thou art weary I’ll find thee a bed,
Of mosses and flowers to pillow thy head.”


“Let us away, my love, with happy speed;
There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see,
– Drown’d all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead.
Awake! arise! my love and fearless be,
For o’er the southern moors I have a home for thee.”