human

Mind Over Matter

How does one love?

For is the love of love itself not a confusion,
A disarray of synapses, receiving tiny bolts of information
That make us believe a familiarity, of sorts, can give way
To a rumbling inside that can barely be contained.

But how can this be?

The intensity rises with every thought,
Mouth-watering passion, so thick in the air, you can taste it.
I can smell you, kiss you, taste you, breathe you, swallow you…
Surely this is not merely a figment, or a chemical imbalance.

Do we ever truly love?

The overwhelming need to bond, and retain our feet on solid ground,
Makes one forget that life is more than babbling babes and blue balls
It is adventure; the glance of a flame-haired beauty, across the bar
A piece of silk floating in the window of the forgotten hotel room.

So, what is love, love?

Love is the salty taste of your lips after a run.
It’s the gentle strength of your hand against my cheek.
The softness of your touch when you part my thighs.
It is the warmth of your smile when you lose yourself in thought.
The fullness of your laughter when you can’t contain your amusement.
It is the depth of our souls intertwining, time and time again.
But love is also knowing how to let go when our time is up,
Just to welcome you back in tender embrace, every time you return.
Love is knowing that I am yours, beyond convention and expectation.
It is knowing that you are mine, and that I hold the key to your heart.
Even if no one else will ever know, and we are forever worlds apart.

We are love, love.

Anisoptera – For J

Ephemeral emerald iridescence
Envelops the fragility of your oblong form
Barely seen, a flutter of translucent wings
Surrenders your position, caught in a ray of light
Enticed by the Succubus, like a moth to a flame

Your many eyes see beyond her carnal shell
Contemplating the woes of the disconnected
Shimmering belonging, you glisten in the sun
Of the one you love, now, then, and tomorrow
Until the cycle starts anew; a natural order
Reborn from the cold, dark, depths of the pond.

Gods and Heathens

Remote locations
Ignite and unfurl deep passions,
As Pele and Kamapua’a
Bear witness, shedding tears of joy.

Feasting on energies,
Primordial and long forgotten.
The Succubus Lilith devours
Humble servants of the flesh
In resolute embrace.

Up, down, beneath, above
Through and through
Bodies intertwining
Beyond understanding.
A tapestry of lust,
Woven by Arachne herself.

The echo of desperation:
A hand longing to grasp
Harder… Harder. Harder!

((((((((( Resonates )))))))))

Through soft pine like
Hephaestus’ thundering blow.

Warm breaths on soft skin
Cries forever lost in a pillow
Beating hearts,
Trying to rip themselves
From their carnal shells.

Symphonic melodies give way
To carnal compositions
Orchestrated by Pan,
Playing the body of Syrinx
In the form of a flute.
Plaintive gasps and tortured cries,
Frozen in time, forever…
Only relieved by the echo of our love.

A State Of Me

I haven’t felt human in a long time
to the point
where I’ve doubted
having blood running through my veins
A search for meaning
in hard substances
and things devoid of substance
in cold sheets
and soft embraces…
But I’ve discovered myself,
deep down, where no one wants to go
a profound understanding
of the duality
that runs through my veins
It isn’t blood that pumps into my heart
but also Magic…
Things yearned and learned
from Goddesses past,
and mothers of the earth,
creators of life and all things.
Like all humans,
I doubt my humanity,
for what does it mean
to be Human in the first place?

Dreams

Occasionally when floating on my boat of dreams,
I become aware of the nebulous sea of regret rippling under my vessel.
Am I living in a constant state of denial,
Or am I simply appreciative of better times?

Occasionally my smile crisps itself into a stone line,
And my thoughts race back to another side of my mortal reality.
Am I just another memory to one of my memories,
Or am I flesh and bone that can be touched?

Occasionally I hear the pitter patter of the rain on a tin roof,
And it brings me back to a long ago place I once knew.
Am I sure the sensory appreciation is real,
Or am I simply a projection of a non-existent former self?

Occasionally I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders,
And it seeps down into my hidden soul.
Am I truly awake and aware of my existence,
Or am I merely dreaming…

Poem written in 2015.

🔥👄🍑❤️🌸🔥👄🍑❤️🌸

Thanks for reading! Don’t forget to follow my social accounts. 😘
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Babes & Beaches

behold

azure waters

mending with skies

temperatures rising still

burnt orange palettes

a tropical enclave

of sensuality

and sex

here

women

frolic in the

waters bare breasted

nipples hardened by thoughts

of erect members diving

head first into their

sacred gardens

of bodily

desire

behold

such a site

would make a

grown man cry tears

of joy knowing he’s unworthy

of witnessing such magic

for it is only women

that may partake

in this ritual of

love and

sex

🔥👄🍑❤️🌸🔥👄🍑❤️🌸

Thanks for reading! Don’t forget to follow my social accounts. 😘
Instagram
Twitter (where I will indulge you with occasional sexy photos)
Facebook

This is a non-erotic poem, written in February of 2017.

emerging from the clouds
the energy boy peers
below the clear layers of existence,
tiny hearts beating
he understands 
why others break the rule
to observe
to document
don't do it, they say
never shifting
yet here he stands,
frenetic scribbling
desperately deciphering
their erratic thoughts and unnerving actions
 he cries, remembering how it felt
to be human

🔥👄🍑❤️🌸🔥👄🍑❤️🌸

Thanks for reading! Don’t forget to follow my social accounts. 😘
Instagram
Twitter (where I will indulge you with occasional sexy photos).
Facebook

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