Royale

oh so imperial
from mere stubble
to the Viking fur
he has the configuration
to make me purr
the royale tuft
under his bottom lip
so neatly tucked
I want to thumb his cheek line
while being fucked
with perfect density
coarseness of texture
I want his balbo
I want his Giuseppe Verdi
caressed over me
everywhere
whether it's a Van Dyke
classic and unassuming
or a sweet Franz Josef
his beard gets me off
like nothing else

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how to be alone

learn to like your own company
the faster, the better

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bones on the floor

there are no skeletons
in my closet
I have no secrets
go ahead and take a look
that's not to say
you won't find a bone or three
lying around on the floor
the occasional mistake
I forgot to mention
or that story I've yet to tell
there are no skeletons hidden
in my closet
but you'll find plenty of poems
never finished
abandoned
go ahead and take a look
I have nothing to hide

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she notices him

overlooked by the masses
considered an outsider by most
no labels
no categories
individuality at its best
she's content at his side
calmed and sure
his words are the ladder
to the high she hungers for
steady and consistent
fueling the fire
pushing her to find resilience
where there's only darkness
overlooked by the masses
but easily noticed by her

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not enough heroes

always leave the person
in better shape than before
if at all possible
prepare them for happiness
they deserve it
just as much as you
there are way too many hurting hearts
walking around
waiting
for someone brave enough
to smooth over the cracks
there's too much pain
not enough heroes to save them all
don't destroy another
heartbeat
we can fix this

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devoured

being a gentleman
is his default approach
to the opposite sex
but there's something about me
that flips the switch
and turns him
into a wild beast
sweaty
wide eyed
licking at his lips
I wonder
what part of me
will he devour first?

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A Poem for Leigh

she loves me
unequal to none
strong and sturdy
sure and endless
her love stands me upright
when I start to lean
when I am storming
she is my calm
she loves me
despite my flaws
ignoring my mistakes
allowing me to find myself
during a time
I knew nothing of my identity
patience is her smile
endurance, her wings
she loves me
like no other
and
I
love
her.

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bottom

he quickly placed me on top
of the world
and just like that
I'm back at the bottom
scraping

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fucking animals

These animals,
they don't understand
what we have.
They can't see past
their own selfish needs
and defecation.
What they do know,
for sure,
is that I despise them.

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red palms

ah, you make my head spin
knowing just what to say
your slippery words
sharp and pointed
never missing their target
slicing through the walls
built up in response to those
who stormed the castle
long before you
reckless yet calculated
well researched
do you keep notes?
ah, you make my knees shake
hips, thighs quake
spine tingle
hollows ache
I'd follow you endlessly
on bruised knees
licking at your heels
biting at your calfs
begging for another moment
of frenzied madness

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I Won't Be Told

guilt has escaped me
somehow
when I am told I should feel
guilty
I instead feel liberated
selfishness is relative
I take from no one
guilt has no place
within
years and years, I've spent
following rules
because I was told to
I won't be told any more
I won't feel anything
unless I choose to

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yes, I am

she points her finger
in my face
you are failing
she says
yes
yes, I am
and jesus!
it feels great

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in the sand

read my mind and you'll know
where the truth is buried
I dug the holes years ago
in the soft sand
thinking it would set me free
only brought me sickness
sense couldn't be made
words of hate were thrown
at anyone who would stand
still long enough
weak, cold, and broken
truth cut away my compassion
for human life
so I separated
the truth into small piles
divide and conquer
I buried the fractions far apart
making sure some still remained
with me
a minuscule amount
filling my jean pockets
if you're lucky enough
to find my truth
carry only a small amount away
don't leave me with nothing

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sleep can't be had

pacing
the floor creaks
under my frozen feet
the hallway is crowded
with the ghosts of possibilities
never considered
sleep can't be had
by those with busy minds
sleep is too much like dying
to be had by me
I don't want to die
alone


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a man that doesn't exist

someone told me
you were watching
wondering
why I never mention
you by name
I've had so many
opportunities
to name the man behind
the scars on my chest
so many opportunities
to tell my side of the story
but it's no matter
oh, it makes no difference
why would I dare bring up
a man that doesn't exist

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bus ride

monsters
we're all monsters
pretending to be anything but
softening our edges
blurring the rough spots
hoping the monster next to us
doesn't notice our teethy smiles

That Mexican Place

We sat in that Mexican place
Just off Valley
With the orange shutters
You know...
Where the pigs used to fly
The Serb, his mother, and I
The waitress with her perky breasts
Chatted up table after table
"Excuse me, Miss..."
A woman called from her table
"I was supposed to have beans, not rice"
You, lady, deserve a fucking poem
Here it is

in the dark

she pets me in my sleep
I wake up and brush away her hand
to find no one there
just me alone in the dark
through death
she has become a part of my life

oh so ambitious

"you'll write again"
he said
green eyes
vicious and oh so ambitious
a strange time in my life
sitting on his couch
fighting off self doubt
"you'll write better than ever before"
he said
green eyes
he's right, after all
I did write again
vicious and oh so ambitious

it's no good

it's no good
they've burnt down the buildings
that housed our memories
it's no good
we put too much stock
in what we could touch
when we should have built vaults
in our hearts and minds
now we have to start over
but we're no longer the young
hopeful pale kids in the back alley
like the gravel, we've been kicked around
too much
scattered like sand on glass
now we're dusty and broken
thrown aside as they torch the block
fall to your knees
if you can still bend
it's no good
we don't belong down here

between

I told her
it simply cannot be done
but what I meant to say was
it cannot be done simply
and for this mistake, I pay
she's not interested in alternatives
she wants the black and white choices
not the rainbow in between
she thinks so dichotomously
why?
I ask my reflection this question
every morning
usually in the short space of time
wedged between brushing my teeth
and shoving cotton swabs in my ear holes
why must I think this way?

to the river

take your lies to the river
take your stories, your tall tales
wrap them up in your dirty bandana
and carry them away
from here
so I can sleep
finally
the river is where we washed away
the sins of yesterdays
drifting away with the wood
of the old cabin
take your lies to the river
take your stories
your tall tales
I don't want them here
no more
tie yourself to a heavy plank
float away if you can
but don't come back
let the river swallow you whole
it's going to take every drop
to wash you away

I've yet to see him drink straight from the bottle

glass of ale in one hand

dinkum dictionary in the other

reading aloud

definitions

synonyms

breasts

penis

pussy

he doesn’t realize that he’s allowing

his boyish charm to show

did you know that a “real shit” is a despicable person?

what a cunt of a thing!

Rarely Do I Think of Myself (Soul of Me)

Rarely
Do I think of myself
As anything more than dirt
Do I view my reflection
As anything but a monstrosity
Rarely
But there are times
When my shield is lowered
Just enough to see
Past my rusty armor
The soul of me
Working ever so diligently
Like a machine
Processing undeserved pain
Into clean flowing waters
Upon which their narrow boats can glide
My eyes dark and sunken
Serve as the water's dam
Holding back what could be
Their very own destruction
Rarely
Do I see myself
As beautiful
But in those very brief moments
I see with clarity
The many factors
Both good and bad
That form this soul of me
And while it is far from perfect
It has somehow become efficient
A beautifully imperfect machine
Is the soul of me

his dick don't work

your body is wrong
oh, but it's so right
you're so much more handsome
when you turn out the lights
sometimes this happens
my dick just doesn't work
you should try growing your hair out
you're a fucking jerk
your few inches ain't gonna work

the old me

catering to your every whim
shaping my personality
into something you considered tolerable
bending
breaking
until I was no longer me
staring back in the mirror
who is this person
I want the old me back

carry

he said
run like hell
yeah that's what I would do
but he has never experienced
loneliness
the way I have
intense
buried in the small of my back
for me to carry
heavy
supported only by late night phone calls
and cliché email greetings
no
he did not know my loneliness
that loneliness that I alone
carry

the world seems to still itself

the world seems to still itself
when I'm with him
stars
crickets
fireflies are our only company
as we lay in each other's arms
in this
I know that neither of us
will ever be lonely

2 Fingers

They scramble
 Almost in a mad hurry
 To send me their photos
 Grainy images of genitals
 Penises, cocks, dicks
 Dangling testicles, balls, nuts
 Showing off their hairy bellies
 Manly navels, encircled with fur
 Strong thighs and tight cheeks
 Full lips framed by chiseled jaw lines
 Oh, no but not him
 There's no need for all that show
 No, he sends me one image
 A clear image of his hand, drawn
 Pointer and middle finger untucked
 Thumb unfolded
 Long fingers of his tanned hardworking hands
 Strong, skilled fingertips
 Because that is all that is needed
 From him
 To propel me into a wet thirsty frenzy
 Mad, craving his touch

Then She Met Me

My first poem

I wrote at eight years of age

About a squirrel and my mother

And their struggle for power

Over the pear tree that stood in our yard

My mother won

She always won

She never fought a battle she couldn’t win

Then she met me

In the End

It is when we are at our most vulnerable
That the world begins to swallow us whole
It is when we are lying face down on the ground
Bleeding
That the world kicks us in our ribs
It is when we are at death's door
That the world stands over us
Smiling
For it has claimed yet another victim
The world is cruel, yes
But not quite heartless
After all
The world allows us to die
In the end

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dear god

there's a certain thrill to it
my exposed naked body
blankets torn away
in the dark
a warm hand on my stomach
creeping up to my breast
his rough fingertips
playing with my nipple
the house is quiet
I can hear him breathing
his beard rustling against the pillowcase
as he slides closer to my side
"are you mine?" he asks
"I'm all yours," I whisper back
dear god
he makes me glad
I was born a woman