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Neuroticism
Does my heart look small in this?
Or my soul seem thin in this?
Do my eyes feel cold in this?
My deeds and words confined by this?
Will my sex be vexed in this?
Libido pinned and squeezed by this?
Does my lifeforce shrink in this?
Or my mind seem dull in this?
Does my smile look frail in this?
Brittle and curtailed by this?
Does my smell repel in this?
Breasts seem shy and quiet in this?
Would my legs shut tight in this?
Hands seem too cold to hold in this?
I suppose what I want to know is this
Could you love me dressed like this?
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And still you love me
I crushed your spirit
Squeezed the blood out of your heart
Stripped you of your loving trust
Murdered certainty and joy
Pushed cotton in your stomach
Pressed sand into your mouth
Gave you nightmares that you can’t escape
Knocked you off your feet
At best I’ve made you sigh
Forced teeth into your lips
Pressed weights upon your shoulders
Filled your eyes with burning tears
Brought you to your knees
Dropped your head into your hands
Pressed the air out of your lungs
Brought you gifts of fear and doubt
Twisted your dignity
Made you consider crimes of hate
To doubt your worth as a man
Face your life without a mate
I did all this without a backwards glance
I wanted to be free
Became the very worst of things
And still you love me
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Scantily-clad moment
For one second you looked at me and took from me a shred of hope that fed a fire deep in your soul. A second more and you had enough cupped in your hands to pack the cracks around your heart for an eternity. I opened my mouth to swallow your smile and let your lips mutter and flutter awhile. The empty spaces so quickly filled, with urgent kisses and fabulous schemes, to swell me and feed me and grow me on the echo of half-formed promises and erotic dreams. We didn’t speak, but our fingers met in brief caress and understood without a word that nothing more would come of this. The formal exchange - coins, tickets and nods. A moment had gone and the bus rolled on.
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Remorseless self pity
A memory stab.
Palms flat.
Knees raw.
Agitating fingers; tap, tap,
tapping on the floor.
One more time.
Please God the last.
Thinking and feeling
meet and clasp,
Squeezing your head,
your stomach, your heart.
How many seconds?
One, two, three at most
And then
You have to bend,
have to drop or you
will surely break.
What is remorse?
Do you have to
feel it?
Have to go back to it?
Have to be it?
I am not remorse.
I am a wince.
A cringing,
snivelling,
shrinking
wince.
I am a wince.
I morse.
Palms flat.
Knees raw.
I agitate my fingers, tap, tap,
tap upon the floor.
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Fat Man Dancing
Wow!
What can I say?
The awesome power
of a fat man dancing.
Not shuffling from
side to side,
elbows bent
at right angles to his sides.
But whirling and twirling
hands high
stretched to the sky.
Most of these people
averting their eyes
to barely disguise
disgust at his largeness,
enthusing.
An offence they despise.
They don’t see
the places you’re filling
or the joy overspilling
from the spaces
you move through.
From my seat
in the shadows,
I see the beauty
of a human,
released from a moment,
letting music
move through him.
Fat man, I salute you.
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Bed in the afternoon
In the past we
would have said there
is no time to take to bed
in the afternoon.
But now we pause to
seize the day,
indulge ourselves in
adult play,
warm and safe
we snuggle in
our healing place.
Unwrapped
we never fight,
although sometimes
we just might cry
for an hour or two;
exposing our deepest
fears and clinging tight
to the certainty
of me and you.
Sometimes a lull for
making love,
hands gliding in
silken gloves, and
always the last hug
of the day
is the best.
And later on
before we sleep
a smile
as we wipe
the wrinkles
from the sheets.
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Still-Life
Silent and composed.
In the presence of an artist
your colours resonate,
agitate and oscillate.
You brighten.
Your lines cry out
to be bold.
And the artist learns that
life is most moving in
quiet places, and
that all is still life.
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Dragonfly and Poppy
Shaded by a bough
your face turned from the sun while
others turned to straw
Lovely dragonfly
rushing to be not here your
beauty fades from me
In one breath a shine
of blue dances with a blood
red bloom and is gone
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Strangers in a bar
Were you looking down at me?
Are you looking at my beer?
You could be the man of my dreams.
I do hope that you’re not queer.
As l try my winning smile.
See your jaw begin to drop.
A squelch as I sit beside you;
Felt your lincolnshire go pop.
I know that you are looking.
Running fingers through your hair.
I gently open up my mouth;
Gravy slips onto my chair.
You are spreading out your legs.
I am hitching up my skirt.
I look at you with bedroom eyes
And let fly a raucous burp.
You push your manly chest out.
Give my knee a little squeeze.
I eat a forkful of fried egg;
Cover us with egg fried sneeze.
You edge a little closer.
And are looking pretty sharp.
It’s time to finish off my beans;
Cough to cover up that fart.
I think that you can smell it.
Yes you’re wrinkling up your nose.
I waft my scent towards the door,
Spilling red wine on your clothes.
Something’s pressing on my foot.
You rub your toes against my knee.
You tickle me until I laugh;
Laughed so hard I made a wee.
What’s this in my onion rings?
My head’s beginning to spin.
I hope that you didn’t notice,
As I push my eye back in.
Deep breathing to recover.
Your focus is on some cheese.
My chest makes a bid for freedom;
Bosoms plop into the peas.
Rush to eat that final bit.
Want to get you into bed.
I should have chewed that piece of meat.
Fuck! I think I might be dead.
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Our beautiful children
My soul was sucked dry.
I can't think.
Their needs and wants swelled.
My needs and wants shrink.
There is no balance…
I try and focus on one beautiful thing
at a time.
Today, it is the beauty of their skin.
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Modo and Mahu
“Five fiends have been in poor Tom at once: of lust, as Obidicut; Hobbididance, prince of dumbness; Mahu, of stealing; Modo, of murder; Flibbertigibbet, of mopping and mowing.”—Shakespeare: King Lear, iv. 1.
Twin flames gave rise to burning soul.
Soul sparked, and split in two; one half Modo,
The rest Mahu.
And so from froth both belched and gobbed.
Fire spewed and grew aswell; forged to lead the
Army of Hell.
Two shapeless forms laid on the sod.
Mahu’s scream sliced the air; her sightless eyes
still unaware.
Tumescent mouths and bulging sex.
Modo’s roar woke the sky; famished they feasted
where they lie.
A genesis both old and young.
Bloody bark on mute earth; they raged against
this violent birth.
No slaking of this grasping thirst.
Gulp, swill and suck the sun; they begged the
Prince to be undone.
The legions came to view their kin.
Rapt by this proud disease; the Army of Hell on
its knees.
Newly hewn and armoured in bone.
To chew on flesh, they cry; and fight the scourge
of those that die.
Ten thousand demons on the earth.
Driven, by lust and bile; the beauty of flesh
did defile.
They marched until they met a child.
Looked at eyes, touched a soul; and knew that once
they had been whole.
A child that gazed and did not fear.
Driven, by love and joy; their sway and heat
she did destroy.
Their passion twisted and they turned.
Misled, deceived and raw; they vowed to take
to him this war.
So they fell into the abyss.
To face fear, feel his spit; through vomit, rheum
and human shit.
This place of pain so filled with doubt.
There, sat the King of Death; the black hole
filled with icy breath.
What brings my Captains to this place?
His outrage plain to see; to love human
kind more than ME!
They quaked, shook and shattered the depths.
The fabric of Hell,rent; nature swept in
with fierce intent.
Natural world cast off rude clothes.
Burning ice, soothing pain; columns and spikes
of quenching rain.
Dark angel screams, ten thousand wounds.
Blacker than black this night; swift is the fall
from wrong to right.
Modo and Mahu watched in awe.
Melted stone, rivers flowed; where Satan stood,
a blossom rose.
Without his lead there seemed no sense.
No other place to go; for them only
a need to know.
Swallowed whole by misplaced flower.
Rose balm unburned the two; singular scream of
I and you.
The balance of the world restored?
Did poesy let them live again?
Modomahu walks in this place,
In the shade of women and men.
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