Throwback

To 2.1.07

all i have at my disposal is a poor man's vocabulary
a cursory knowledge of things superior
i lack the strength to stand with the quill
my modern voice rings out as a sour note
comparison leads to discord
but i lust after elevated language
after the elevated pen and its master
analogy will lead to invalidation
and still the ubiquitous nature of the proprietor of the pen placates as much as arrests
how 'bout that
to write is to mirror with flourish and insight
to bestow upon the clay of colloquialism an idiosyncratic notch

There's nothing I should like so much as kissing
Except, maybe the thought of kissing you
But since you've yet to come along and kiss me
I guess another fella'll have to do

More Fun Reading Material

A new and exciting exercise in personal narrative.

Sweetest Adeline
a barbershop introspection

..lovers lament..

i cant explain the fire
one sided, it may be
i cant explain desire
sparked by you but lit in me
i wish things would transpire
as they often do at night
reflecting my desire
like a sapphire in the light
so deep within you shall not see
the quivering caused inside of me
simply from your company
making me so ardently
in love with my desire
quelled and silenced in my mind
the end that i require
picture, bodies lay entwined

Amaa

thermals
and feetsy pajamas
warm smells on cold noses
curls
and caring careful hands
attached to loving aching arms of strength
soft and safe and sure

umm..

is it even possible to get goosebumps on the inside
right up the middle where the juiciness lives
starting its journey in the soft squishy warmth of the sub-center
rumpling higher extending outward
taking with it the devastatingly delicious titillation
sensitivity to each staggering fabrication that now comes
to the burgeoning primordial salacious affectation
the only all-consuming consciousness now known
engrossed in a state of unprecidented thermal singularity

Pewter Chains

"Do you really believe in lost souls?"
the twinkle in his emerald eyes.
"I have to." she smiled.
"You see there are just some people,
some people who have too much good in them..
and whether or not they have any idea
of their potential
or what to do with it
and how they already are,
there is simply too much there for it all to be
from no where at all."

And in that moment it was his fondest wish
for all lost souls to fully return
So they might bring their owner to full brilliance once more
and in doing so reward those that love them most
giving them always all the time the person they see
in flesh and form and function and fullness
For to have your Love come to fruition
to come into the fullest extent of being
and being the one who knew it was there all along
is your waiting reward

The wind blowing up the yellow-orange not-yet-red leaves
sweeping them down along the gravel and up against the trees
under the rubber seats of the swings and through their pewter chains
moving everything around it and not really making a sound
The sound instead coming from the creaking of the paint-peeling picnic table
and the weight shift as she moved and went to pull her sleeves further past her wrists
pleading with the cotton to come into her palms and provide her the warmth
she knew was in him.

..and i let him..

no thing brings out the writer in me so well as male induced angst
"he drives me crazy... and i let him"

..'neath the weight of my own making..

underneath the toppling tower that terrifies
trembling beneath the great growing gravity
ever pulling downward, pushing downward
pebble by particle by pearl
bubble by bead by bit
sands stacking, propelling descent
heave, gasping for even a waft of
incandescence, radiance, beacon or blaze
breeze, ventilation, or some small suggestion
of anything other than continually falling, failing beneath the weight of my own making

is was will be

wonder if everyone does this
torturing with pictures
of you
of us
us that never is was will be
and so drone on
just another one
one
singular
is was will be
singularly equipped with dwelling not daring since such an hour; a glimpse was given
uncov'ring that which once so carefully tucked beneath the layers of cool has since burst forth with the thrust and opposition previously unbeknownst to a conscience mind
looking at you looking back, but whats inside - dare not know
rather listlessly wander through the passages of mind that outline the chapters wherein the flicker of is was will be still live