Less Than Three

I can give myself to you

Body, soul and spirit

I can stand between sky and Earth

Grounding the Heavens for you to claim

I can summon Anu, Bel and Ea

Professing devotion to your beauty

Because it’s less than three

I can bring you light and heat and life

Through every atom of existence

I can protect you from mother, maiden and crone

Guiding you on the path of the warrior

I can protect you from seductions of lust, wealth and profanation

To keep your aura pure

Because it’s less than three

I can build your houses in all the realms

For you to make a home of hell, Earth and sky

I can create beauty in your name

Capturing essence in matter; the spirit of Godlike visage

I can offer laughter in grace and games for play

All to share in the joy of your being

Because it’s less than three

I can write verses

Symbolic, allegorical and esoteric

I can stand in the currents of life, sound and light

A conduit for all you desire

I can share devotion

From Druid and Poet to Soothsayer

Because it’s less than three

I can dedicate a sacrament

Thought, word and deed

I can live outside of time

Unrestrained in past, present or future

I can supplicate
Before the Creator, Preserver and Destroyer

Because it’s less than three

I can manifest reality

Length, breadth and depth

I can join magic, intuition and fertility

To bear the fruit of your invention

I can bring order

Combining power, wisdom and love

Because it’s less than three

I can capture treasures untold

Mirror, sword and jewel

I can claim armies for your rule

In the name of truth, courage and compassion

I can give myself to you

Birth, life and death

Because it’s <3

Offering

I've come here to sing your praises
To lay prostrate at your feet
The newest disciple of a dogma
Long since turned to dust.

I've come here to offer myself
Once again on the blank page
Piously offering words and verse
Ignoble is my reverence.

The words are all I have.
The words are all I am.
And I offer them to you.

I've come here basking in your beauty
To offer faith in perpetuity
Professing a love I've not felt
For what love can a mortal offer a God?

I've come here to feel again,
The sanctuary of your embrace
The solace offered by your smile
The pleasure of your penetration


The words are all I have.
The words are all I am.
And I offer them to you.

Awakened from your love
Forever changed by your touch
Cast down from Olympus
With a piece of heaven to share

Alive in your shadow

Fertility as divine copulation
Born of an ancient one's seed
What have I to give in return?

The words are all I have.
The words are all I am.
And I offer them to you.

Beautiful Boy

Beautiful boy

Sleeping so soundly

What dreams do you have

In your peaceful night's slumber?

Beautiful boy

So much awaits

In the many days to come

So much life yet to live

Beautiful boy

My heart aches for you

For wounds already dealt

For hardships yet to come

Beautiful boy

Sleeping so soundly

I promise my best

And I hope you'll understand

Beautiful Boy

I'm always here

Even when we're apart

I'll always be with you

Beautiful Boy

So innocent and free

I hope you know

You're loved beyond measure

Beautiful Boy

I hope you know

Beautiful boy

I hope you know

Tragedy and Comedy

As I walk
Through dreams left abandoned
I remember so much
So many days and nights
Lying wide awake
Through the sound of
Rain pouring from my soul
I ache to live
I yearn to die
I need to share
Words that paint the picture
Every cut
Every scar
Every drop of blood
I need to be seen
And I can't explain why
The story exists in the telling
The art lives in the poetry
Sometimes it hurts
Yet the stories still come
Told and retold
Walking through dreams left abandoned
A ghost town
Full of myriad images
That might have been
Scattered to the winds
Along with the ashes of the future
Once so vibrant
Now putrid and unlivable
Tattooed on my heart
Until finally ... Life
Cuts away, clearing the scars
Bleeding out the person left behind
I break the ties that bind
And I'm finally happy
Through so many day and nights
Lying wide awake
Through the sound of
Rain pouring from my soul
I'm alive in dreams newly born
And I die in the fear of pain's return
I need to share
Every hope
Every whispered nothing
Every kiss
The art lives in the poetry
Sometimes its beautiful
And the stories come
Told to be retold
Full of promises and what might yet be
Scattered to the winds
As I close my eyes
And I make a wish
To walk through my dreams
To tell the stories
Good and bad
I need to share
The tragedy and comedy

Writer's Block

The words play softly in front of my eyes.
Like the notes of a piano, low and melodic, yet percussive and insistent.
They weave their web in my brain until I'm wrapped in their seductive glow.
They keep me safe; they keep me warm.
My one true love, they dance with me in the shadows.
Moving gracefully, we dance this waltz breaking every barrier. 
They tease me as a coy lover.
I can see their letters, naked, laid out before me
But they refuse to show me their words
They tickle my consciousness, begging to be used.
I grab each one, only to feel it slip between my fingers
The ink dripping from my fingertips like so much blood.
The thrill is the chase and they have captured me to play this game
For the play is the thing, so says the Bard.
And if fools we mortals be
Then I am the most foolish and my words tell me so with exacting grace as only they can
absurd, asinine, brainless, crazy, daft, doltish, fatuous, half-baked, half-witted, imbecilic, imprudent, indiscreet, insane, irrational, lunatic, short-sighted, simple, stupid, unwise, witless

The words play softly in front of my eyes

Insistent in their need to be commanded. 

Desperate in their intent to command.

Their lesson is ongoing, never ending and it is this

Only with a pen mightier than the sword

Will the disease bleed away.

Only when the words are razor sharp in their wit

Will it cut to the quick and then bleed away

Only when lost in the moment 

Will the courage come, to cut the shit

And then bleed away.

Emotional Deja Vu

The waves crash over me
Like an emotional deja vu
The memories rise to the surface
Just to pull me under
Holding me down until I stop kicking

All I wanted out of life
Every failure
Every dream
Every triumph
Like a kick to my gut

While a new Empire rises
From the ashes that remain
After I burnt it all down
A God to none
And king to even fewer

The waters closing over my head
Like an emotional Deja Vu
I'm going under ...
The waves crashing over me
Beaten against the rocks

Falling

Have you ever heard a soul cry out in the night?
Falling through the dark into the unknown
Did I fall?
Did I jump, or
Was I pushed?
Always remember
The best laid plans of mice and men
Pave the path to hell
Where saints and sinners wear the same robes
And the rosebushes have thorns
While the thornbushes have roses
The urge to jump in
Where angels fear to tread
Shall surely be the death of man
Exploring the unknown with
Fight or flight's knowing guidance
We run into the night, embracing forever's possibility
With just a nudge
As light as a breeze
The course of entire lives change
For better or worse
Through thick and thin
It always comes there and back again
Time is the thief of memory
Did I fall?
Did I jump, or
Was I pushed?
Falling through the dark, into the unknown

The Audience I've Never Met

Lost!
On the road forever
     (or at least it feels like it)
Not arriving; False starts and detours
Roadblocks in the way
Like so many crumpled papers in a wastebasket
The problem is, I'm not writing for me
I'm writing for an audience I've never met
And what I want to say is so much more personal and
Not at all appropriate for polite conversation
immediately after introduction
I was inspired by the muse in the ether
Giving me the words when I've got nothing remotely interesting to say
Telling me to share my pain
Like a dirty needle in a back alley
Encouraging me to lay bare my angst
Like a catholic in a confessional
Demanding I convey what its like
To see the shame of every memory I never wanted
Reflected in your eyes
How much it hurts when your favorite poems
     (the ones that make you cry)
and the songs you sing the loudest are all echoing your pain
With the words you could never find on your own,
Bouncing off the walls of my soul
Shouting your hatred and loss
Until it becomes my own and
I live with my shame and your hatred as my neighbors
And then the words come
Hot and stinging
Painting an ugly picture that seems
Somehow hauntingly beautiful
I am equal parts excitement and fear
When I come to the Audience I've never met
As a supplicant
Begging for empathy
Pleading for understanding
From someone
Anyone who can say
You are not alone in this
Because I wonder
What would that be like?
So I relate my story through verse
Waiting for something, anything
And then I understand
I'm writing for myself  
Sharing with an audience I've never met
And if art, like beauty is truly in the eye of the beholder
Then it is my honor to share mine with
The Audience I've Never met

The Box

All you have to do is get into the box
That's all
Just climb in and wrap yourself up in the warm embrace of
The Standard
The Status Quo
Take comfort in the fact that YOU are just like everyone else
YOU are made to order and
Fit to be king.
All you have to do is get into the box
This box is custom designed for you
Made for only you and one size fits most
You can be yourself
See yourself
Love yourself in this box
And once you're inside you will have
Security of comformity
Because no matter what's inside this box
It's all the same to the rest of us
We love you just the way you are and
It doesn't matter to us what's inside the box
All we need to know is that we can relate
To the outside
All you have to do is get into the box
That's all
Then you get a wife
You get kids
You get a car and a job
You get a house and
You even get a
White.
Picket.
Fence.
It won't cost much
Not much at all
Just three easy payments of
Dignity
Self-Respect
and
Individuality
With an additional cost of
Confidence and Pride
But that's just to cover the shipping and handling
Just one last reminder that
Individual results may vary and we are not responsible for
Heartache, Heartbreak, Depression, Concession, Rape due to no meaning yes,
Fear of abandonment, sudden codependency,
increase in thoughts or feelings of wishing for love, Desperate loneliness
(especially in crowded rooms or social situations) feelings of unworthiness and
a Sharp increase in feelings of parnoia and/or broken promises.
All you have to do is get in the box.
All you have to do is
Fit in . . .

The box.

Black Widow

Words.  They're only words.  Oh, but we all know they're so much more.  I'd wager that it wasn't a face that launched those thousand ships.  It isn't a thousand words that are worth a picture.  No, it's the words.  They're power, and they're blood and they're life and death all at once.  And in the end they're all I have.  They're what keep me going, the fuel of my fire, what makes me happiest in this world--I'm like a child in a sandbox as I weave entire beings, races, planets galaxies and universes--so who could have foreseen that they'd cause me so much pain?  Who would have known that it would be words--no, not words . . . word--who would have known that a word would make me want to visit the dark places of my psyche that I haven't been to in quite some time.

You see, dear reader, this is the madness of my muse and as I told you in the beginning this is where you'll see my soul.  It isn't all fluffy poetry; here beats the heart of an artist and one thing you must understand about artists is that we tend to use pain as fuel for the creativity that drives us to entertain you.  Even now, my eyes burn with it and a rock resides in my gut, near my solar plexus as I process the events of life.  The love and the hate and how the two coexist in such harmony creating this thing of horrific beauty.  You cannot help but be entranced but your every molecule burns with the ancient instinct of flight; begging, pleading with you to turn away but you can't seem to do it because it's so beautiful.  Ironic, isn't it?  That love and hate should be the same thing observed from different precepts?  I didn't actually know this myself until this day.  The two are bedfellows and with the interplay of words--the intellectual intercourse between the two a world can be created that is a thing of beauty and a marvel of horrors . . . .

The bed was cold.  Interesting because it was almost 90 degrees outside.  She felt the icy chill run up her legs into her heart and she knew he was touching her.  She didn't cringe, nor did she moan with pleasure.  She merely lay there, silently praying he would stop yet somehow hoping he wouldn't  It was the juxtaposition of these two things that gave her the greatest concern; this, and the fact that the icy chill she'd felt a moment ago now seemed to burn with a fire that began deep within her.  She cursed her own body as she felt the wetness begin and she knew that sex was inescapable now.  She welcomed it, in fact and this knowledge made her want to cry more than anything else.  Still, she didn't move, forcing herself to lay as still as if the rape she imagined in her brain were real because that was the only way she'd get through this, to lay still and just let him do to her what he wanted.  She couldn't . . . wouldn't let him know that she wanted it to.  She wouldn't say no or stop or anything else that might stop his hands touching her.  Her brain was a trainwreck and her emotions were the casualty.  She felt sexual and sensual beneath his touch.  She wanted to feel his hardness open her loins and push inside her but she knew that she was the victim in this and she knew she must put a stop to it.

She didn't move.

His mouth was on her now and she cursed herself for gasping.  For letting him know how much she loved it, for showing how aroused she really was through her hate.  She instinctively pushed herself onto his lapping tongue allowing herself to relish this moment, this the greatest of pleasure she'd ever received from her lover.  She inhaled sharply as she twitched within.  Somehow, sensing this he pushed two fingers inside and sensually made love to her using only mouth and digits.  Slowly and carefully as if loving her with his sex he drew her closer to the pinnacle of pleasure.  She cursed him again and felt her imminent climax intensify with the fire of her hatred and anger.  How dare he!?  How dare he make her feel this good when she loathed him so.  Worse, how dare she let him?  What kind of woman was she?  Harlot? Whore? No. These words described things she didn't believe in.  She gasped again as these thoughts fled from her brain under his expert tongue and she felt herself begin to cum.  She pushed him away from her but suddenly felt unbearable pain at his loss and so she pulled him back in.  He didn't let up through any of it.  He made love to her, still using only mouth and fingers and now she was going to cum and she knew it.  She felt her climax begin to explode behind her eyes and the pleasure burned as hot as the anger.  She knew then that she had to be rid of both to find peace.

She moved.

She motioned for him to lay down on his back and she looked at him.  He was soft, and somehow she knew that this meant he was giving to her.  He hadn't been looking for his own pleasure.  Rather, he'd been hoping to heal her using the power of his love.  He'd failed and he might never know.  She decided this was a mercy as she gripped him at his base, gave his soft but ample form a shake and was immediately rewarded.  The blood rushed into him as involuntarily as her wetness had rushed into her.  She felt the familiar rush of excitement as he became thicker and she knew she was going to miss the way she felt, full of him.  Still, cocks were a dime a dozen and there were any number of boys waiting for a chance to get inside her.  She knew she'd miss him but ultimately, he was replaceable.  She wondered if this meant she was in a full fugue state separated from reality . . . but decided not to think about it.  She looked down and noticed she was on top now, maneuvering him into position and she allowed herself a small moan as he impaled herself on his familiarly rigid, thick form.  She sank slowly down and enjoyed his hands on her hips; they always made her feel so sexy.  She pushed the feeling away and resolved to find her own sex appeal from now on.  He moved her hands onto his breast and her anger got the better of her and she grabbed the nipple and twisted with all her might.  She panicked when the blood came, but the panic wasn't due to what had happened, it was due to the utter elation she felt.  She twisted more and now the blood came in a gout, dark and thick.  He was unresponsive and she wasn't sure why; though this was secondary to her now.  She simply did not care.  She felt him throbbing inside her and she moaned louder reaching for a pillow.  He welcomed this and pulled her hands down positioning the pillow on his face.  He thrust urgently as she pushed the pillow down over him.  His movements were erratic and his moans loud.  Irritated she pressed harder.  The thrusting made her cum again and she felt her wetness run over him like a dam being broken.  She groaned louder moving her hips in time with his spasming body.

He didn't move.

She pressed the pillow tighter over his face, and worked her hips over his groin.  She gasped as she came again; finally able to relax now that he'd stopped moving, stopped moaning and stopped thrusting.  As her orgasm subsided she felt a warm, moist rush enter her and she relaxed softly.  His cum filled her and she smiled.  There were fewer feelings as good as this one.  She knew without knowing how that she'd never feel a man inside her again.  She didn't care.  She knew that she'd had the best men had to offer and she knew they'd damaged her irrevocably.  She'd done what she needed to do to be okay and she felt free.  She moved the pillow from his face and looked into his eyes.  They stared up, lifeless and empty; beautifully blue and breathtaking.  A drop of water fell into one of them and she was puzzled.  She felt her face cautiously and was sure now, it wasn't water, it was her tears.  Anger, pain and remorse flooded out of her and fell onto his face.  Laughter burst from her mouth.  It was over now.  Finally and completely over.

He didn't move.