Circumstance

Too often, the things you say are just the
right things,

spoken in just the right way, in just the right cadence;

forming the chords to which I vibrate.

and you touch me right there in the place

where no one has gone before.

And I am elated, overjoyed, and it frightens me.
Big Time.

Each time I hear it, feel it, sense it, know it,

I want it more and more and more....

And I try to pull away without revealing my Need,
Time and again and again.

this thing I sense comes as it does:
in the guise of

“You”—

which means I cannot have that which has uncovered “me”,

And I am frustrated, angered and
completely despondent, by turns!

And raging madly against the unfairness of that blithe bitch,

CIRCUMSTANCE,

who so coolly deprives me of my Prize,

I crumple:
defeated,
enervated,
helpless,

unable to clothe myself in any semblance of dignity,

ashamed and incapable of hiding or disguising my covetous nature,

which now lies before me,
Exposed
to God and man alike.

No Gentle Words

A gentle answer turns away wrath,
but a harsh word stirs up anger.--Proverbs 15:1

I have no gentle words for you
I have no thoughts of love
I have only the notion that my
dreams have been shattered
By the reality that has become us

I have no gentle words for you
I have no soothing touch
I have only the tears that I
shed here on this night
For the passing of you minus me

I won't goad your anger
I won't stir up your wrath
by speaking the words we fear

Though I have no gentle words for you
Still, my silence destroys us by stealth

some

About “SOME”

A little background music, please....

To, me and many others, the concept of “some” has informed our sexual lives. From childhood to adulthood, the question of “some”, and the quantities related to getting pussy (“a little”, “a piece”, etc.) has fascinated me: women needed to get “some” to behave right, boys and men were constantly in search of “some”, and everyone except me seemed to know about “some”.

When I heard boys asking girls for “just a little piece, baby”, I always wondered if the boys had to beg so much because, like pie, even if you served it in small slices, eventually you had “none”. And I wondered if, like pie, you could just make another when the one you had was all gone!

Well, a great deal of time has passed since I was a child, and my personal acquaintance, nay, love affair, with “some” has broadened my horizons. I know now that when asked for a little, I question the man's honor: 'cause just a little doesn't usually work for me-so if you're going to take “some”, then take it all, it's what it's made for and because I can make more....

So, herewith, my ode to “some”- the quintessential duet and pas de deux between man and woman. (click on the picture to see a larger view)

Hold it at Bay

Even brief notes passed between us

Stir up those never old feelings

Thoughts of you are never far away and

I must always hold it at bay.

I go through all the motions

Of a respectable wife and mother

But when skin's on skin, my mind goes astray and

Oh! I must always hold it at bay.

'cause, yeah, you know "you make me

Wanna la la in the kitchen on the floor"

A brand new order of life is in sway and

I must always hold it at bay.

power

For Johna

This is a much earlier work,
started after I lost
the daughter I so wanted. . .

In the aftermath of the Great Divide

In the aftermath of the great divide,
I thought grieving would be the order of the night,
Thus, I sought out a Slim-Free Zone,
a sanctuary in which to express myself.

Unexpectedly, but fortunately, sleep came to me instead.

I reveled in my peacefulness until 4:37am,
then the floodgates burst and the tears came,
finally, forcefully, without ceasing.
But, as I have mourned this same loss so many times before,
it was like an old friend stopping by to say “hi”:
I found there was no pain, just grateful release.

true love

poem: tsunami

poem: girls on top

What I would not, should not do . . .

With lines firmly drawn and our stances taken

We approach the minefield yet again this day—

Drawn to each other for reasons both declared and implicit,

Thus our encounter begins – an intellectual lark

One great thought succeeds another, then another;

Yet in your presence, I become enchanted by you

And feel the urge to do what I would not, should not do…

Our singular dance – like a push me-pull you toy

Begs us to cover; but please don’t say: just uncover—

Thoughts shrouded in silence now will be given voice;

So in your presence, I become enthralled by you

And I’m compelled to do what I would not, should not do…

We take ten steps forward and no steps back,

Twinned needs, hidden in darkness, now come to light—

We put our minds on pause and our hands in play;

Because in your presence, “I” becomes entwined with “You”

And we inevitably do what we would not, should not do. . . .

Blind baby