Category Archives: Affairs of the Heart

The Question

So love is where its at Baby,
and my, my how we all run
from body to body
in desperate yearning
for that one person
beyond all others
that can reach deeply
into the soul’s dark corners
and pull forth
that gift carefully hidden.

Frantically we search
for the special someone
to fill our empty places,
making a shell become whole
because so little belief
is set in our own capacity
to make ourselves complete.

Love, baby, love –
the solitary key
passed from one hand to another’s
thoughtlessly dropped
by hungry feet
that in riotous panic
throng toward gathering places –

To get lost in the crowd
but fearfully hoping
for one night of love
before the illusion is shattered
and we stand naked
before empty souls
who had too little to give
and no time to give it –
desperate and despairing –
because love wasn’t the answer anymore
but just another question.

 

Pretender

For just one night hold me –
you can pretend someone else
is cuddled within your arms
soothed by your touch
but don’t tell me
these bittersweet moments
are an illusion.

For a brief few moments
wrap your arms about me closely,
let my head nestle
into your shoulder,
soft and warm . . .
and let me imagine
for just a little while
someone loves me,
and let vague illusions
I could love too
pass through my mind.

 

Coming Together

You run – I run –
coming together to spread
tiny slivers of bitter icicles
into raw nerve endings
to numb feelings and still
the tremulous beating of hearts
far too vulnerable.

Then quickly, lest either one
see a glimmer of emotion
lurking beneath eyes cover . . .
we vanish with the coming
of dawn to pursue our separate
destinies as far removed from
tender touching as possible  –

Yet again and again
our souls touch though words
are not understood,
stabbing so lightly these shaky egos.
inner depths of bonds exist –
our faces staring so wariy remain
strangers to the game.

The souls speak
of a companionship beyond words
or feelings.  So run we may
with the first light of dawn
but night is the time
for souls to reach beyond boundaries. . .

Bringing deep, still waters
close to the surface
in the miniscule moments,
voicing such feelings
neither you or I can ignore.
Rising than submerging
then running agaiin.

 

Chaos of Feeling

Don’t woo me so gently
take me hard and fast
scorching the skin
in the intensity, the
blaze of your fiery passion
Please forget the tender touching,
the quiet communion of souls,
the silent reaching out
for understanding and warmth.
Wrap me in a spinning inferno
of feelings, rock the ground
upon which my  feet tread.
Let me feel those butterflies
of infatuation, too soon gone.

Don’t go so slowly
that I come to know
the secret person behind
the mask of illusion,
one you want me to see –
I don’t want to know your soul –
for if I do –
I may never wish to let it go.

Don’t court me with flatteries –
flowers, endearments –
for coming to love you
would hurt far more
than burned fingers ever could.

(No, please, take me slowly, gently –
cover me with kisses sweet with desire,
warm me in your quiet glow –
let me know that the love
I so dread feeling –
so achingly seek but mask in fear,
is possible in your arms.
Don’t leave before I can feel
the pain of your embrace
one more time – and time again – and…)

Socks

Party night, play night,
never gonna know what will happen
pot, booze, boys calling my name
am I a siren to all those boys
or are they ones for me?
A box of candy many flavored
most are to savor
a few are Harry Potter’s snot jelly beans
what the hell, not all can
can be a good flavor.

So I reach into the drawer
pull out a pair of Dad’s socks
f0r I know as long
as I’m wearing those socks
I’ll be just as much a virgin
at the end of the night
as when it started.
Even took a pair to college
wore them . . . for a while . . .

Down and Dirty

DOWN AND DIRTY

Don’t woo me gently –
take me fast and hard,
scorching the skin
in the intensity. the
blaze of your fiery passion.

Please, forget the tender
touching, the quiet communion
of souls, the silent reaching out
for understanding and warmth.
Wrap me in a spinning
inferno of feelings,
rock the ground upon which
my feet tread.
Let me feel those butterflies
of infatuation too soon gone.

Don’t go so slowly
that I come to know
the secret person behind
the mask of illusion.
I don’t want to know
your soul – for if I do
I may never wish
to let it go.

Don’t court me
with flowers and endearments,
for coming to love you
would hurt far more
than burned fingers ever could.

(No – please, take me slowly,
gently – cover me in kisses
sweet with desire, warm me
in your quiet glow –
let me know that love
I so dread feeling –
so achingly seek. Don’t
leave before I can feel
the pain of your embrace
one more time,
and time again.)
Don’t court me

Without A Voice

WITHOUT A VOICE

His touch whispered against her flesh,
softly, gently, weaving a pattern
of infinite acceptance
of the safety of his arms within
which she felt,
of the sanctity of their home
which they had built together,
and the murmured sighs
of the children they created . . .

Yet within the voiceless plea
echoed through her veins,
take me to freedom,
no more despair.

They had such looks for each other
sending others questing
for the secret so obviously born
in the passion they shared.
And gazing into his eyes,
she felt she was falling
into he liquid pools of green amber,
a falling away from herself
into ways of her choosing.

Yet within the voiceless plea
echoed through her veins,
take me to freedom,
no more despair.

For within the quietness of his voice
roared a rage which scorched her,
though rarely shouted,
its timber reverberated  through her body
causing the cells to bang
against each other,
the skin to break forth in bruising.

Yet within the voiceless plea
echoed through her veins,
take me to freedom,
no more despair.

Never did his arm raise to strike
but his words bore a power,
far greater than physical force,
for once the wound heals,
the mind forgets, and beatings
feather about the edges
of blurred memory,
but words give birth
to inflictions of the soul,
and lie manifest in bruises
born on the flesh,
as silent legacy
to what her own words
cannot speak.

 

 

 

 

 

Unfolding

UNFOLDING

Reflecting sides of a prism,
full of light and diversity . . .
each time those eyes
burn with that special brand
of intensity
I want you more
than days before.
As layers peel, dimensions surface,
complexity interweaving
in subtle variations
of themes my own, yet
seen within your mind –
the pull between
your essence and mine
binds, grows, straightens
and that certain allure
only you possess
comes into increasingly
sharp focus.
A unity of spirit exists
as we spin tales of days past
or speak in reverent tones
of a future misty and vague –
and a tiny voice
growing in strength
says I want to be there
to see that person
as he unfolds.

Rain

Rain streams down the window pane,
echoing a mourning deep within me.
Dank, dismal liquid carrying a message –
no matter that other days bring cleaning
in that water – for the rain
is an outer reflection of insecurity today.
You are too far away, and last night
the phone was silent – your comforting
voice fell on other ears.
So quickly I move toward casting aside –
belief in myself, in you, in us,
is shallow indeed. Needing constant affirmation.
I grow scared if a song drifts across the radio,
crying of pain . . .and think that soon
it shall be mine. Come home,
sometimes I am fine when you are away –
when you are away – today I am scared.
I miss you, am scared for us,
call me, come to me, hurry home
that I might be comforted within your arms.

Total Eclipse

Electra on the rise
No longer computing
Nordic Amazon on a motorcycle
holding onto a dark rider,
midnight invader
total eclipse . . .
“Never look into the eye
of an eclipse –
you will go blind.”
Is that like “Never eat from
the fruit of knowledge,
of right and wrong?
this blaze huge as
a dripping red pomegranate
blooding the sky,
and the two fearless riders
raiding the early dawn
as the sun rises
with the moon riding
on their backs –
light borrower!
Good that I am, she says,
you’d scorch the earth to death,
without the cool mercury of me.”
and her eyes flashing
green poetry . . .
challenging, “If I go blind, Eclipse,
then maybe I’ll see,” .
They mount the hill,
closer and closer,
she holding on to him,
blond hair whipping them both,
to challenge and charge the night,
morning of the coming day and
and this total eclipse in the sky,
flirting with the elements
of life and death, as always,
this pulsing red ball –
“fuck your logic”
“fuck your irrationality”,
what a time for a
total eclipse of our own.
Dissolving, phosphorescent particles
into the blinding red blaze
backdrop of Summer’s Solstice.
total eclipse of our own.