• wpid-img_20150406_14545501.jpg.jpg
  • wpid-img_4438_20130506232513139.jpg
  • wpid-img_20130828_201238_2013083023250478301.jpg.jpg
  • wpid-img_20130316_101541_20130318011652127.jpg
  • wpid-img_20130831_184243_20130831223544735.jpg
  • wpid-img_20150515_114219.jpg
  • wpid-img_20131028_153237.jpg
  • wpid-img_20130525_185928_20130527133633429.jpg
  • wpid-artwork_20130302195713634.jpg
  • wpid-img_20150515_11275701.jpg.jpg


All but Forgotten


Paths of past prayers

Echo from the shadows in

Halls of empty faith.

The pews lie in disrepair.

The chants, all but forgotten.

Sandy Hands


Grasped in sandy hands,

What joy to a child’s heart,

Are gifts from the sea.



A song in the night,

Dance to divine devilry.


Fields of revelry,

Dreaming of earthly delight

In a hedonistic storm.



Cruising down main street,

All eyes shine upon the ride

As the engine roars

Like thunder on mountain tops,

And sweet exhaust fills the air.



Calm upon glass shores,

Green pines, blue waters, empty,

Peaceful horizon.

Way of the Lover


Drawing by Tick

Living lust fulfilled,

Unknown desires realized

By the skilled fingers

Of a thoughtful lovers touch.


She’s left only wanting more.

It Screams


It screams from beyond

Sanity’s deep perception.

Delving deep within . . .


Oh death, we cry, come take us,

Oh death, we beg, release us.


It drinks deep from pain

Ripping out forgotten thoughts,

Leaving but a husk . . .


Oh death, we cry, come take us,

Oh death, we beg, release us.


Alone in tremors,

In a spiral of despair,

Inconsolable . . .


Oh death, we cry, come take us,

Oh death, we beg, release us.

With Drink


Celebrating life

In a room of friends, old, new.

What stories will come

When the night arrives with drink

And the fear is forgotten?

We Rise


We rise from the sands

On towers of steel and smoke.

We rise like old gods

From ancient time’s forgotten,

To reap and harvest martyrs.

Seduction at Dawn


Painting by Tick

Seduction at dawn,

Intoxicated by sleep

And the waking dreams,

She sits before drapes of red,

Aroused and waiting,

Welcoming her lover’s touch

In the morning light.


Oh . . . what pleasures come with tongue

And fingers that know the way.


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 513 other followers

%d bloggers like this: