i am ready for your crushing blow

break my jaw

slam your fist into my teeth

and, smiling,

i will be sure to thank you

for at least being honest

and saying something to my face

for once.

Why does the slipper thrill you so?
Does the thigh sock make you rub down low?
And the whip brings you out in a right old sweat
The thought of the leather thong a frequent pest
What makes you warm in the parts down below?
Why do lace knickers give you a glow?
I will never understand the grip of the fetish
Some of them just make me feel so squeamish

where I live …you can't imagine …what it is like to be in heaven
the wind is free
the sun shines all day and night…
there is no need of a moon
where I live it’s like a fountain of love
all come here to swoon

Oh my friend all that I now can say
come home to heaven soon…

twill be a boon

the frustration and meditation,
the need for salutation …
recognition and the lust of all
that is tuned as sexual
all will be forgotten soon

tangle in the wind
his dreams and hopes
like steam
as mists

and covered in the light veil
of rain
in his brow
on his beard

his misses the turbid
moments
off the north sea
pulling on the oars

they glide in the swells
cupped by the hand of
the ocean

there is hope today
soothed by mead
by lamb

and laughter

Hopeless flies
the arrow
hard
against the wind,

a cry in the distance
of the desolation
of a desperate heart,

a sudden stop
within the enigmatic
eye of the storm.

The revolution
passes by,
and silhouetted faces
smile,

furrowed brows
masked by shadows,
and cloaks of falsehood
like a masquerade.

The drum rolls,
and bells toll
with an uncertain harmony.

green gecko dragon
under gentle falling rain
dancing on bamboo

.....

tall trees graze the sky
nibbling sunshine, dribbling
dappled bits of shade

.....

poets and lovers
hunch over the bottomless
well of heartache

.....

even in unveiled sadness
her beauty incites tears
I cry twice

.....

setience rekindled
eyes are brightened, heart is thawed
smiles from a daughter

.....

blue swells of sadness
gliding atop a smooth groove
she knows it by heart

Black Day All Tied Up…

I hate this fucking black tie,
men fidgeting while women cry.
Here we are, we meet again,
does it have to fucking rain.

All acting suitably subdued,
what else is there now but drink.
Morbid tales of others viewed,
gives everyone time to think.

A shiny wooden box for a final closure,
sure as hell nicer than cremation’s fire.
Undertaker hands on the burial brochure,
such an ending, he hopes we all require.

The pitter and patter of dog-shoes across the snow,
the sound of the sledge,
the call of the driver
out into the vast empty space of the sky,
the call of the dogs
eager to get on to the next destination,
not knowing where they are going.

I did feel the Widow Solstice
take leave her throne last night,

nay, I was right when I said "feel"
for it weren't from sound or sight;

I took leave of my own senses to check my plight.

Running past me into the desert cold
her wake echoed a haunted tune,

'twas but an overture from the score, in parts
she was more concerned with lassoing the moon;

for a lamp, to play the whole piece for a loon..

The Widow Solstice's musical prowess
didn't exist, so she'd merely pretend,

Burying my own wants under some man’s
keeping them locked away
but there still there, never go astray
lurking in the shadows of my mind

Raising their head now and then
but smothered by his needs
pandering to his whim
nothing matters but him

That was before I discovered self-esteem
realised I can chase my own dream
knowledge makes me feel supreme
grinning like the cat that got the cream