Thursday, April 28, 2016

Separated by Distinction

picture source:

       Today passed by a few moons ago, and November is flagged along the way,
shades of black, blue and white reflect neatly alongside the other
whilst feet touch the ground before eyes have even opened.
      Alongside which, magic is reality, impossible only what words have not yet been written
and spirits dance through skies, tugging clouds into whips of images,
so transient they are clouded from blinkered eyes, and I am locked in this separateness.
Muscles burn from stagnation,
breath shallow from holding my tongue,
hollow my spirit seems to your distinction,
but my soul’s only alive when the world deems it best to sleep.

Monday, April 25, 2016

'En Catimini'

picture source:

In the sun or under the moon, I care not what graces the skies
when my hands relish the heat of your burning skin,
before me a sculpture of muscle, flexed and primed
for me to move across the spectrum of senses with,
to find the slow, deep release of the energy
that keeps me alive and takes my breath
so I may die… again.

Tuesday, April 19, 2016

The Sketchbook of your Dreams

picture source: 

There’s really no way you can escape yourself,
un-see what your eyes have seen,
every feeling you have felt is in you,
caused a reaction which influenced everything
from that moment on.

Feel the frisson, this transference of energies,
now you know why you did what you did, hell, do what you do,
but you cannot make it go away, erase the power point,
for as it takes from you, it drives your dreams,
the truth to know there’s a circle to avoid,
rather follow the tug, the invisible li(n)es in the stars…

Belief is the sketchbook of your dreams,
pain is the one who shows you the way.

Friday, April 8, 2016

The Greatest Illusion

picture source:

A witches brew of pictures flicker through mist thick as a curtain,
hovering, then it settles on you and you glisten, glow,
a light, a rainbow, a crystal ball of invitations I take delight and pleasure in,
write on with my fingers, my tongue, a private invitation for you, my own,
your lips the fire streaking through my blood, we burn from opposing sides towards the center chord.
Here I relapse, in this cloud, this cloud without weight,
before the other side pulls me down, back to where I observe from the fringes,
just a silent spectator filming the pictures
of the greatest illusion and most bountiful of spectacles, life!  Feed me.

Thursday, April 7, 2016

Music made me do it

picture source:

False is the dusk that has fallen with the wet blanket of grey across every horizon,
cool is the touch of air, goose-bumps on my skin exposed to a silver shimmer,
hot is the breath feathering my neck, I'm blinded by your presence,

take hold of me and fill my soul with music and with your light.

Tuesday, April 5, 2016

I See Whispers

picture source:

…coils of blue weave through the wind,
feathers fall and fade to faintest grey,
warmth whispers in me, unravels, sweetly,
sing with the song and silently slip on by…

Friday, March 25, 2016

Vibrations in the Wind

picture source:

I walk outside, feel the wind pulling this way and that,
look up into storm clouds building, growing angry and dark,
that is where I see us, secluded at the edge of a forest,
locked in by fantasy and time.

That night the full moon dodges through clouds,
playing hide-an-seek with shadows, sleek, dressed in silver mist,
chasing across new skies, seen by but oh way too few,
as they become the vibration in the wind.

Wednesday, March 23, 2016

Climbing the Vines of Pleasure

picture source:"Hot summer nights, mid July, when you and I were forever wild." The Great Gatsby

I remember the silence in the soft breeze at dusk
on hot summer skin, cooling to the moon’s early greeting,
eager to share our laughter and living,
anxious to witness the vibrations
of a language you’ll find in no dictionary,
and watching us climb the vines of pleasure,
he enhances our indulgence
with his silver touch.