Creative Endeavors

They Speak

They speak in hushed whispers

In the bar of screams.

They speak in confidence

In the tavern of the lost.

What secrets do they share?


3

Between two women,

A soft breast in each hand,

Nipples erect,

Gently played.

Three hearts beating

Three bodies playing

Three souls touching.


Warm Bodies

Warm bodies collide

In the summer heat.

Sweat beads along natural curves.

Rolling motions on linen sheets,

Heavy breathing

Flesh on fire.

Deep moans with deep thrusts,

Inhibitions forgotten,

Tossed aside with the clothes

And heavy blankets.

A rhythmic dance everyone knows.

Concluding with an exchange

Of breath and fluids.


Harbor

image

The boat sits at rest
In the calm, empty harbor.

A woman drink deep
From the skies gift of a dusk
That brands the soul forever.


The Sky

image

The sky is ablaze,
And an alien world burns
With indigo flame.
What was forest, now desert.
What was desert, now is glass.


Within the Street Lit Room

Within the street lit room
The woman stands with her back to the man.

Within the street lit room
The man walked towards her.

Within the street lit room
The city flashes from behind the blinds.

Within the street lit room
She turns to catch his gaze.

Within the street lit room
Anger fills his face.

Within the street lit room
She smiles gently.

Within the street lit room
The crowds and cars blair from Below.

Within the street lit room
Falls a knife.

Within the street lit room
The door slams violently.

Within the street lit room
The sounds of a woman running down the hall can be heard.

Within the street lit room
Is the smell of iron and liquor.

Within the street lit room
Lies the man bloodied and fallen.

Then the street lit room
The Beast lies dead.


We

We look at ourselves and wonder.
We look to the outside and see only reflections.
What are we?
We are beings behind the masks we make.
We are beings beyond what lies beneath.


Awake

I awoke to find self loathing,
A spark of death in my heart.

I awoke to swimming despair,
A drop heartache in an ocean.

I awoke to the light fading,
And the hurt expanding by leagues.

I awoke to a new emptiness,
That’s as old as my age of existence.

I awoke to the pains I’ve caused
To an undeserving heart.

I awoke to a moonless night
The stars no longer speak.


Bleeding (Censored)

I’m falling,

Falling from the mountains of emotion,

Falling from the epic climb up cliffs and peaks.

I can smell piss,

It permeates the house and carpet,

It lives in the furniture, I clean and the next week returns.

I’m lonely,

Living day to day with minimal adult interaction,

Living in a house but unable to make it a home.

I crave,

Longing for the inebriation and sweet forgetfulness of spirits,

Longing for times when the weight is still there, but considerably less.

I’m tired,

Sleep comes in short bursts and then poor in quality,

Sleep brings good dreams, the only reprieve.

I cry,

Tears in the early morning, before the sun rises,

Tears of self pity, emptiness, and loss.

I’m nauseated,

Puke is always at the point of expulsion,

Puke is always fought back down, no time for that.

I’m sad,

Saddened by the mental incapacity of the father,

Saddened by the hurt I’ve caused the ones I love.

I exist,

Only by the will and strength of diapers both young and old,

Only for the love given and the smiles of my children.

I live.


A Game

 

A dim light shines through,

Illuminating her curves

On burgundy sheets.

 

Nude upon the Egyptian cotton, her breasts exposed. The air moves gently across her nipples and along her dew dropped curves. She shivers at the sensation. She knows she’s watching.

 

Life, you twisted thing,

New adventures in the night,

Under watchful eyes.

 

She stands by the bed watching her nakedness in motion. Her hand move across the body’s contours, stopping at the mounds of flesh topped by light brown nipples, circling, playing with the silken skin, then moving down to the deep places where she blooms in damp delight.

 

On a bed she’s watched,

Woman looking on woman,

Game of desire.

 

She’s watching her perform. She stands, she quivers. Her eyes follow her hands. Her hands follow her eyes. The watcher is being watched and in time her hands move down to bring herself in tune with the laying beauty.

 

She stands by the bed,

Nude in the soft yellow light.

Above watchful eyes.

 

They gaze. They touch without touching. They love. They make love through thought and inaction. When their minds meet, a climax of infinite lust erupts into a fluidic waking dream. Infinite desire, infinite lust. Beautiful tension.

 

And then, with a kiss

Begins a bodies bonding.

And then, with a touch . . .