My red mistress

Her luscious full lips press forcefully against mine
and I will never be the same again.
I yearn for her touch;
her warmth pouring down my throat;
encapsulating my entire being.

My sad head aches - my pour heart breaks.
Her jubilant nature is replaced with scorn and taunting.
What did I do wrong?
I drink of your nature
and dance and laugh and love
and then
and then
and then
I cry and mourn and hold my head in my hands.
The pain is too much for me.
Why must I love you so, when you visit this retribution on me?
Is it for my over-indulgence?

But your lips, they taste so sweet, like candy,
when pressed against mine.
I can't imagine another lover.
My only red mistress
flowing through my fingertips.
Pour over me and lose myself in you.
And I am gone.

There's nowhere to go; no where to go.

Wind whistles through my hair and all else is silent.
I'm lost and cold and alone.
Where am I?
Wilderness extends around me and I have lost my way.
Where do I go from here?
Spinning in circles till nothing seems familiar anymore;
I'm dizzy and disoriented
and nothing is the same
for me.
Any
More.
I lose myself in the darkness encapsulating my house -
my small home in the big wide emptiness of
of
of
of you and me and everyone.

shhhhhh
all else is silence and waiting and misery.
It'll be the first of the worst.
I didn't realize.

Slow it down - it's easier than me.
Easier for me.

Seven

Somewhere in his smile he knows that I don't need no other lover.

For you. For us.

As the years stretch across the skyline,
Words are whispered in the night and scratched across pages
Bound together and rustling in the wind.
Our tale continues in front - at our feet,
While the street sweepers brush away the lonely nights from
The path left behind.

I can't remember a me without you.

Lines of lost and forgotten love poems run across my mind
Longing to make them mine and ours.
All of it is fluff and stuffing.
I could lengthen this dedication: pluck images of
Angels and roses and jewels and stars and moons and suns and silks
From the lips of the dead.
When what I have to say is simple and concise.

I love you.

And I love you still.

Barbarella

Strong and tough
no one messes with us.

Soft and beautiful
no one sees the danger within you.

Barbarella -
Barbarella.

I can't help but shake my hips to you
from side to side
and raise my hands straight up
above my head


in the centre - all eyes starring
I am the star.
The hero.

The saviour.

As I sway onto a star
Barbarella Barbarella
I can hear the wind afar
Barbarella Barbarella
whisper your name on par
Barbarella Barbarella.

Strong and tough
no one messes with us.

Soft and beautiful
no one sees the danger within you.

Strong and tough
no one messes with us.

strange compulsions

She sits in the room alone and traces the fake grains in her artificial hard-wood floor.
She picks out one slab and her eyes rest on a single line and follow it from start to end. Her pupils move onto the next line and slowly follow its twists and curves until it reaches the wall. Her eyes focus on every minute detail of the line as she scans the tile. Thousands of phony wood grains fall under her scrutiny as she examines every inch of fraudulent flooring. Looking for solutions amongst the pseudo-wood panels, she continues her task until she traces every line. But it provides her no answers - not this time. For now, the silent mock wood flooring refuses to confess its secrets. at least to her.

She loses interest in the simulated wood floor.

perhaps the walls are more willing to yield

Her eyes glance at the faux-wood wall in front of her. She starts with the left-most line engraved in the fabricated wood. Top to bottom her eyes trace over every line upon the wall. With each completion of a line, she is more assured that the next line will be the one to falter and relent its knowledge to her ever-yearning mind. But each successor, as with its predecessor, is fruitless and she reaches the end of the wall with no more information than when she began. But she is confident the next wall will confide in her.

a brief extended interlude

and all the irony of it.

a wet dry season.
a loud whisper.
dry ice. my favourite.

enough of this non sensical jabber.

it was meant to be a short breath, but soon turned into a lengthy inhale.
if anyone still reads this besides me, i promise to try to keeps these breaks to a minimal length.

all small today.
disconnectanddisjointthoughtsslipthroughthefingersofconfusinglysquishedwor
dsrefusetowritecompletethoughtstodaythisdaynotthesametodayonthisdaysepa
rateanddisparateideasjumbletogetherinavatofsolitarynothingsensehasleftther
oomquietlyclosethedoorbehindher
the importance of space . . .
and pauses.

They Conquered

After all these years.

Our eyes stare at the stage in anticipation as the lights dim and the music stops. Distorted heartbeats gradually overcome the murmurs of the crowd and a hush spreads throughout so that the steadily increasing beat is all that can be heard. Then the three main players step out from behind the curtains and onto the stage:
One dressed to make us laugh with a pink wig upon his head, one dressed to make us sweat - shirtless with a long red headband/sash wrapped around his waist, and one dressed to impress wearing a black golf shirt with collar flipped up.

As they take their respective places, we know they are ready to put on a great show.

One amazing song performance after another - with brief pauses for laughter and witty banter back and forth between us and them.

Jumping and clapping; singing and dancing; pushing and stomping; laughing and yelling. And just when we're about to collapse from exhaustion and feel like we can't possibly stand for another song, they play their last song with such enthusiasm and energy that we are rejuvenated and find ourselves once again jumping and shouting even wilder than before.

The last song ends and the three main players depart with their two sidekicks; leaving us mesmerized and breathless, with sweat pouring from our every pore.

Nameless

Why don't you want me?

You're motionless again.
Listless and lifeless.

My anger feeds pain.

Through with your game.
More of the same.

Winds rustle leaves across the dim lit sidewalks as
a river of ceaseless traffic pours down the street
between us.
I call your name,
but above the horns and squealing tires, everything just sounds like
noise and rage.

Unsated desires explode into an inextinguishable fury.
With pride shaken and esteem beaten,
I tuck my tail between my legs and hide beneath the covers.

Maybe someday you'll want me.
Even if I'm as warm as a corpse,
as moveable as a body tethered to a cement brick sunken in the ocean.

Nothing poetic - just an observation

So it's been awhile since I last posted anything. A long while. I actually went for all of May without writing anything here. Now, as I was looking at my site today, I noticed that this is the second time I have gone a whole month without posting since I started this blog. And the previous month I missed was May 2006. I guess I'm always busy in May doing something. To those of you who still actually read this, I'll promise to post more often, or at least I promise to try to write more often.

Golden Summer

As a warm breeze softly ruffles your golden mane,
your comforting scent fills my nostrils.
and with it, my anxious anticipation of summer grows.
Thoughts of warm sand between my toes and waves splashing
against my thighs begin to rustle off their winter cobwebs
and creep into the light.

Your kingly grace and radiance
permutates the field with such dignity that
no one doubts your royal blood descends
from a godly lineage.

You are my favourite
and that's how it shall remain.
oh heavenly sweet silken Marigold.