What do you do when you live a lie,
toeing a thin line, always saying you’re fine
The truth is, I’m not fine, not even close
I’m sad, lonely and wondering about those
things lost to me
What do you do, when your life is out of sync
when your deepest desires live only in ink
indelibly scribed on every heart string and cell
but my day-to-day is a testament to the hell
What do you do, when your life is un-lived
when your decisions weren’t made, and your soul is unshrived
when penance is deemed by those you’ve wronged
and you fail to achieve even a fraction of the throng
of amends demanded.
What do you do … tell me, because I have no fucking clue.
My birthday was on the 12th. It left me a little morbid. This was the result …
Forty years in the blink of an eye
leaving me to wonder why
I made the decisions that I made
Doing things to me forbade
causing pain for satisfaction
rather than pursuing heartfelt action
Now, I find myself in time’s embrace
struggling to find my rightful place
In a world bereft of friendship and love
and confusion in faith for the Creator above
Where do I turn? Creator, help me see
the path you’ve placed in front of me
In darkness I walk, each step a fright
My heart blanketed by sadness not light
My visage cracked upon close inspection
no longer can I tolerate my own reflection
Slash and burn, rend and tear
This particular skin, I will no longer wear
Make me over now, I must build anew
That is what I’m bound to do
A new path, I’m determined to tread
in what time I’ve got left, before I’m dead.
Blood and flesh, together they surge
enslaving you to primal urge
With hands stroking and thoughts
provoking that driving desire
Wishing for warm, honeyed heat
to quench lust’s fire
Fingers touch and fists squeeze
Tell me, Lover, do the fantasies please
your tastes or merely tease?
Does lust only grow and
weaken your knees?
Do you feel it now,
tickling your spine?
Is your body clenched and ready
for ecstasy divine?
Let go, lover dear, embrace
this orgasmic game.
But, do this one last thing,
say my name.
Over a year since I visited this space
the poetic form was not mine to take
My soul on display,
there was no need to hide away
Yet pain is life and life is pain
And I turn once more to poetic refrain
For my sins do I ever suffer
now without illusion to provide a buffer
An orphan in truth, though ever was I such
Now I am alone and lacking a crutch
Praying to my Creator for serendipitous event
Hoping everyday calamity I can prevent
Relationships most dear to me are lost
My heart and soul, the inevitable cost
In the fire of pain and loss am I tempered
wondered if my life will go unremembered
These crimes writ on flesh and bone
Consigning me to be ever alone
A pseudo-Haiku inspired by Picture It & Write
Pandora’s box closed on hope
every day we now hang
with our own rope
If my soul were clay
how would you mold me?
Would you break me down
bit by bit, only to reshape me
as you see fit?
My soul yours in submission
my heart your own artistic commission
If my heart were a canvas
how would you paint me?
Would your strokes be soft and light
revealing my truth with your artistic sight
Or would you deconstruct my psyche
painting my soul for the world to see?
If my body were yours to shape
what would you do?
Would you sculpt me with your artist’s eye
using hammer, saw and chisel?
Or would you sculpt my heart with your own?
Your lust and love my flesh and bone
Your admiration and respect
giving shape to my outer aspect
Would you ply me with tongue and silky steel
filling me with life and making me real
A woman made just for you
every line, stroke and shape laid with exacting precision
part of your specific artistic vision
Will you search my soul,
peel back the layers and truly see
in order to evoke the masterpiece
that already exists within me?
What would you do, Master of my heart,
Guardian of my soul, Lover of my flesh?
What would you do?
steeped in high summer
though it’s early days
Sleepy, soul stealing heat
98 degrees and rising
would that it were the fevered
heat of bodies joining
Humid waves, dampening my skin
slow droplets navigating
the cleft between my breasts
my clothes cling, breathing stings
My body grows lax
as the sun heats my cells
robbing me of will
stealing my determination
as I worship in forced
to the god of the sun
his will alone being done
as all I can do
is lay, and pray I survive
this southern heat