phase equilibrium

whereabouts on the 

walkabout are you

but here and there

you are, but

are you

a boy confused, a boy aging

a boy balancing 

childhood / manhood

in the heat of these days

  these of 

  testimony and oath

  these of

  influence and independence

transitioning to and fro

  body, blood and breath

  struggling for equilibrium

maintain nothing, traverse

unsettled you will

move and move and move

shapeshifting, now 

one thing defined

now, another

(Arseniy Semyonov)

slide

an easy weekend evening 

slides on by

the reclining sunbathers and

the wild children leave the 

pool in a sloppy happiness

that smells of chlorine 

and spf 30

out-of-state license plates

take up all of the good 

parking spots, except for

mine because I haven’t left

since Friday

caffeine, poetry and a little

guitar playing got me through

most of the time, thoughts of

someone special filled up all

the rest

some things you just don’t let

slide on by like the others,

some things have to be

held... tightly

  the sun is gone now

  but night’s becoming

  a new beautiful

  I slide over a little bit

  and make room for

  her absence

(Image from Fravery.tumblr.com)

  

distance

sometimes

the best thing in your life

is temporarily out of reach

  so what then, if anything,

  can be done about

  this cruel distance

I’ve taken a strong vow

of patience while this

incredible love takes root

  daydreaming like a gardener

  tending carefully to the soil,

  the weather, the weeds

sometimes

the best part of your life

is what’s yet to be 

  and if there’s anything that

  this distance does provide,

  its the room for love’s gentle 

  growth

(Mariyam D Arts on artpal.com)

immersion (a dream of her)

(Alessandro Risuleo)

immersed, I taste

the totality of her

the variety of textures

that create the world of

her body

the thin and thick of

her skin

the varying degrees of

responsiveness

when kissed

the layers deep, the

tender shallows

the arid, the lush

the drenched

I speak in tongues to

penetrate, lubricate

stimulate and invigorate

blessing this ritual with

enigmatic fervor

unworded

             unguided

                         immersed

(Fineartamerica.com)

tile

by accident

or by fantastic chance

  where I make my way

  there

  I trip and fall

by push or pull

though it matters not

  the impact prevails

  and

  my way is lost

abrupt and passive comes

the acceptance of change

  as if I had a choice

  to

  ignore this happenstance

a body falling to the floor

meets the cold hard tile

  the heat transfers

  and

  a new connection is made

unchosen

mitigate this restlessness

today’s perfume is getting

obnoxiously close to

igniting

bubblewrap me in the

comfort of memory loss

when you

              were not

and I was

              not yet

the canvas still white,

the colors unchosen

(Image from the-soul-doctor.com)

in the underneath

what of this filled sky

that storms overhead

  is there not still an

  opening that shines

  with some sun

take a little turpentine and

wipe the fields of color

  what of the simple beauty

  forgotten or lost in the

  underneath

is there not still a song of

hope to sing through despair

  taking pleasure in the voice

  and the black-and-white of

  rainfall

what of this narrow road

that disappears behind me

  what of any thing has

  anything of value, is there

  one so loved

(Image from regis-chupin-photos.tumblr.com)

melancholy

melancholy

  sounds like a

  flower’s name

  that blooms at

  the ocean’s edge

  just as the

  painful site of

  sunset

  fills the bloom

  and disappears

  slowly under the

  coming darkness

  and

  lightest of rainfall

(Image from pinterest unknown source)

common pleasures

fields of grass and morning’s dew

sunrise gold, ascending blue

common pleasures hold a truth

I thought of this while I thought of you

where she wakes, I’d love to know

so I posed the question to lines of crows

perhaps they’d tell but instead they chose

to fly away, row by row

politely aggrieved, I wondered on

and asked the same to the bee, to the frog

and yet again to the ducks in the pond

but all were silent, all moved along

I’m a modest man with modest hopes

my common pleasures are simply told

she is a secret everywhere I go

and where she wakes I’ll never know

fluttering

out of armor, these

manmade facades fail

the hauberk

the kevlar

the steel mesh

the polycarbonate

the sedative veil

the fallacious word

the lesson plan

the mothering hand

all bare skin now

and delirious laughter

  naked in the

  glowing grace

  of a burning

  confessional

nobody’s listening

and there’s

no penance assigned

  the door opens -

    ashes flutter

    in an empty space

(Gif from audiokarma.org)

its just a picture

I know its just a picture

but sometimes...

  running my fingers through

  your hair

  feeling the idea of each

  soft strand

  slip between

  and fall

  tracing the delicate shape

  from ear to cheek to chin

  and up to lips

  and around those lips

  and over those lips

  lingering there

  and then ~ pulling away

  scolding my fingers for

  their crazy imagination

  thanking them for

  these delightful sensations

ruined well

(Some lines are from previous post “she of earth and heaven”)

glistening in these daydreams

of lust and longing

I am ruined well to the

appetite unsatiated

enlarge these visions, she

of earth and heaven

my angel of sorts, I bind your

wings to feast upon flesh

let music yet unwritten swell

amidst these carnal heights

yet - I hallucinate, and a reach

for you glitters in disappearance

(The Birth of Venus, 1866, Gustave Moreau from tumblr)

she of earth and heaven

“Bound to earth, and thus the rules set forth;

  to dwell in a body that knows not of heaven,

  for the flesh is forbidden to touch anything but flesh,

  therefore heaven shall remain as virgin a taste and saved

  as any soul that enters” ... 

... this was the mood, this was my quote - no, this was just a poem I was writing in the early morning hours, as sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I get up out of bed and write, or at least try to. wasting the night or using my time wisely... it always depends on the poetry produced. here I was, alone on the couch, contemplating the separation of flesh and soul, the limits of lust and pleasure that must exist if this separation were held to be true... 

and there she was, across the room, still in bed... 

an undisturbed angel of sorts; flesh, soul...

my thoughts are bound to her, my earth, my poem, my touch of heaven...

there is no reason to waste this time. I leave the poetry, the couch, the thoughts of lust and pleasure having limits... I return to her, unselfish, in need of her flesh, her pleasure, her taste...

she’s on her side, facing away from me... her left shoulder, left cheek, left leg, left ankle, all silent and smooth against the sheet... 

I lie down, I move over to her, I press my body gently to hers, warmth against warmth, as quiet and soft as a bird’s wing fell to its side. she remains unmoved, I nestle my head to her neck, intoxicated by the aroma of her sleep-scattered hair. the cotton tease of her nightshirt and panties upon my bare skin is something to ignore... I aim only to please her -

my right hand and right fingers are upon her right thigh, gliding over her knee, the back of her knee, the back of her thigh, atop to her hip, descending from her hipbone to her belly, over those little belly hairs, up so slightly to her navel, circling, in and around and in, continued up to her chest, under her right breast, upon that breast, upon that nipple, relaxing my hand there, fingers extending and palm cupping the fullness of that breast, then up to her neck, and throat to chin, and chin to neck to collarbone... now moving her hair away, beginning to kiss her ear... she’s waking up slowly, little by little, her breathing is audible, deeper are her breaths now, sighing from time to time, and once, even a moan and another deep breath... yes, she is waking -

her right hand reaches out for me, around the back of my leg and up, pulling me closer... I allow it for a second but then pull it away... she reaches again, this time raising her arm up behind her, I feel her fingers run through my hair, fingers hard against my scalp, fingers grabbing to hold my hair... I allow this as part of her pleasure -

I’m now achingly hard, my cock is downward but strong against her ass, I want to be in her so badly, but I refocus... this is not about me, not... not now... so my hand plays the part, falling back down to her belly, fingers sneaking in under her panties, stroking through her hair there, each finger caressing and grabbing lightly, then pulling my hand out and placing it on top, two fingers explore the patch of sticky-wet cotton over her lips, sometimes pressing down, sometimes just a finger dragged through the middle -

~ there’s no sound on earth like my woman coming undone, the song is unwritten, and each time its a little different ~

her fingers in my hair now are forceful and sharp, nails digging in, her arm pulling me closer by the back of my head... I’m kissing harder on her jawline, licking her earlobe, licking the nape of her neck... I pull down her panties, sliding them over her knees until she kicks them off, I pull her right leg up onto mine, opening her up, side-spread, my hand then travels from the inside of her thigh -

~ no matter where you touch a woman, make it the only place you want to be, the only place that exists... attend to it, and cherish it ~

I take my index finger and run it over her exposed cunt, she’s soaked... I take my finger to my mouth and taste the pleasure she’s been releasing... I let her know, with a whisper to her ear, that there is nothing as sweet and delicious as her body, and then my hand returns below, between her legs, back to those slippery lips that are eagerly waiting to receive me -

I’m almost cumming myself at this point, and I continually have to fight off her attempts to grab my erection... but now that she’s close, I let her... I tell her she can only hold it until she’s finished, and then I feel those fingers of hers upon me, her fingers wrap around me, her fingers take their grip and don’t let go... my own fingers are on her, rubbing side-to-side, up-and-down, circles, shapes... fingers sliding into her, fingers deeper and deeper... my palm rests on her hair, my fingers move to find her clit... it too is erect, she directs me to the pace and angle, sometimes her other hand lies on top of mine offering guidance and rhythm... then she pulls hers away, she tells me to keep going... just like that, yes... just like that... oh god! ohhh, ohhh goddamn!... yes... yes! fuck! ohhh fuck! yes... ohhh fuck! ... 

and then silence... then a quick exhale... then a deep inhale... then silence... then an exhale and an inhale and an exhale and an inhale... her legs trembling... wide apart... then crashing together, as all of her body flexes, twists and tightens at once... a pure moment... she is liquid energy flowing in rivers all around me... the dam breaking... everything exploding... and one last exhale, grunting from deep within her throat... her orgasm fills the room, fills my hand, fills my heart, fills this earth, like a soul encased in flesh entering that heavenly realm with a booming crash, exclaiming that flesh and soul can indeed be touched as one form, as one exuberance, as one bound to nothing can travel in all directions and be everywhere, here on this earth and elsewhere in heaven, simultaneously... as pure an existence as there ever was -

she relaxes... her body exhausted... after a few minutes she asks me if I was up writing again, and if so, what was I writing about... I tell her that I was, until my mind went blank and I came back into bed, and she became the poetry that I didn’t want to leave unfinished

she smiled politely, almost as if to say 

  you’re such an idiot, 

  that was so damn cheesy

but instead, she called me a poet

and asked if she could finish me off

I of course, being that idiot,

asked her what she meant

  look down at yourself... poet...

  my poet...

  you’re still hard

she’s the heart I ask

she’s in her prime

but lonely

the feeling of

holding love’s hand

now feels empty

yesterday’s sunrise

watched by two

is today’s sunset

for one

and her skin so wanting

of summer’s warmth

is nothing but trapped

in winter’s harsh chill

      ————

the heart will race

away from ache

when all it wants is to

pound with excitement

and the body will thrive

in the nourishing hand

that supports its growth

and allows it

      ————

I ask her what she expects

of Love and she pulls out a

small piece of blank paper

and crumbles it up and

throws it to the floor

then looks at me

dead from the eyes

and says

  have Love make something

  beautiful out of that

(Unknown image source from snowangelsoul.tumblr.com)

beta

life in beta

angels and demons fight

for their place in line at the

afterlife marketplace

you are as unique as your

final release date

no returns, all sales are final

(Image from jessehurlbut.net)

good morning Death

good morning Death

you look quite lovely today

welcome, come in

make yourself at home

I’ve been waiting for you

I love the little flowers you’ve

placed in your hair, and

your eyes are astonishingly

deep, deeper than usual

  so warm and comforting

I’ve felt your presence lately

  like a daily handshake hello

  like a gentleman’s hand on

  a woman’s lower back

  guiding her around the room

  where are we going today

I’ve been calling home for

years but nobody’s answered

do you think they’ve forgotten

about me, has it been that long

I’m coming, hold on a second

yes, I know the small things

don’t matter now, I know

I’m ok, yes I’m ok... yes, I’m ok

  what a beautiful morning it is

yes, I’m ok

I’m coming

I’m coming

(photo by Veronika Pinke on fravery.tumblr.com)

beyond the gateway drug

state of zen, open body

now

in the lush sunshine haze

keeping my balance on the

ledge

edge of doubt, surety

usually I lift up and

fly away

or close up and sink within

but I’m beyond the gateway

drug now

this high of addiction, thrills

stoned blind blithe and

steady

here I am, here I am, here

in realms of ecstasy, here

where questions

need not be asked

(My altered image)

the agony

to love like this

that crawls on skin

and enters whenever

it wants in

to love like this

as temptations swell

and yearning nights

bring days in hell

to love like this

in tune to the tune

fearless of the fear

I lie here consumed

the agony is

to love like this

knowing this love

has yet to exist

(“Nymph and Faun” by Salvarore Fiume)

tangled

her morning skin, her morning lips are all soft cinnamon, red licorice and smooth honey / I grab a little of it as she tries to hide under the blades of sun creeping through the open blinds / I grab a little more as she yanks the sheets and twists herself away with that unbothered come and get me laugh / I catch a quick peek of her breast before she turns over, I catch a glimpse of her inner thigh as her leg kicks down and bends in, I catch the smallest indentations of her lower back...

that’s it! I’m on the attack now / her taste is evident and pungent, and I am absolutely starving for her / I smell flesh, I smell arousal, I follow the scent / I hunt her body with a greedy jaw, with a salivating mouth, with grasping hands, with a pounding heart I embrace her, my victim / I spread her arms out wide across the sheets / I spread her legs out wide beyond mine / I lower myself upon her, body weight to body weight, breasts upon breasts, ribs upon ribs, belly upon belly, groin upon groin / I am full flexed stiff and vibrant, She is soft undulating torrid and drenched

I pause     everything held silent in ignition, engaged / lips above lips speechless, trembling / intention above intention to devour, succumb...  we make eye contact, we grin, our eyes narrow / focus / penetrate

then a simultaneous kiss   and sliding myself into her / tongue caressing tongue, breath inhaling breath, legs wrapping around legs, fingers entwining fingers / motions and movements and pushing and pulling and thrusting and scratching and thrusting and slipping and biting     and licking     and thrusting and groaning and moaning and screaming     and into and out of     and slower   and slower   and faster and faster and slower   and faster and into and out of      and thrusting and holding and kissing and breathing and     breathing and   

words and whispers and yelling and cursing and into and out of and thrusting and swelling   and swelling   and joining and tangling and swelling and thrusting and kissing and breathing   and swelling   and into and faster and into and into and into and into and...     release... hers... waves... breathless...     release... mine... gasping...   hers... kissing... 

releasing -    joining -    and tangled -    and held -    and caressed -      and released -   and collapsed -   and kissing -   and breathing -   and smiling -    and whispering -   and trembling -    and touching -   and kissing -     and together -     and together -          and together              and together                                 

tangled, together             

together                   

together

(Unknown photo sources from internet and tumblr)

inside out

when I say gutted

I’m saying that

I am still functional

and still appetizing

  like a deviled egg or

  a twice-baked potato

but inside out is

not 

very 

pretty

heartache is a handful

of nothing really,

heavy is the weight

you assign to your

own grief

when I say hurt

I’m saying that

I want you to hurt

for me

because I already

have enough pain

my reincarnation

is doomed

to fail

five more minutes of this

decides my fate

there’s not much more

to say

(Image from mirrorsinner.tumblr.com)