love, poetry, purpose, women


Suns first blush

Letting you sleep awhile

Stealing away to the page

But I’ll return

This is no secret

How I’ve always known

This connection to a process

I’ve worn as armour

Laid beneath like a blanket fort

And you’ve never sought to

Steal it from me

So here, between pages,

A kiss of phonemes and analogies

Fresh hot tea

And the spry quiet expression

I have when I’ve attended to

The grand works and so here

My attention, offered and accepted,

Steal back to bed and close my eyes

Breathe you in

As you move towards

Me, compelled by gravity

Of fulfilled purpose



So I am 116 pages into the first draft of my science fiction adventure novel in longhand, and I am writing short stories for submissions to anthologies, which means I can’t share them until they’re rejected so forgive the odd lapse in content but there’s only so many hours in the day to achieve everything and being published is part of my overall purpose.

There will be episodes of The Transformation coming soon and I’ve also made notes towards wrapping up The Wild Man and The Bridge series, both of which were curtailed by personal circumstances but will be completed as I hate leaving things unfinished. Once I’ve finished the first draft of the science fiction novel, then I will be editing a completed first draft of an earlier book (possibly my English Religious Cult Thriller or Police Corruption Thriller, which aren’t their titles by the way) for submission to my agent and then publishers.

I love what I do. When someone points out I am a little too prolific, I have a moment of cognitive dissonance because I love my process, but sometimes I wonder if I’m frightened of any degree of success on a level I

*shakes hat after performance*

If you enjoy my writing and poetry, and feel so inclined, here’s a way you can show your appreciation.

Click on the link and buy me a cup of coffee.

Thank you for reading my work, it means a great deal to me. If something I’ve written has cheered you up or even passed some time, that’s the reason I got into this in the first place.

beauty, love, lust, poetry, sex, women


Within your vision,

I reacquaint myself

With the man I aspire to be

Not something lost or denied,

And where I falter,

You offer the means

To reach higher, to take wing

Within the sky of myself,

Even as I wallow in the rough dirt

Of my self,

It makes my touch prone to leaving marks

My kiss, as insistent as a promise

A gentle, brutal man

Who wants and not needs

Leaning into the edge of my fears,

Reaching for ambitions as distant as stars

And as close as a secret

Stronger for the beautiful, flowing test

Of your divine feminine

beauty, love, lust, poetry, sex, women

Sword and Sheath

My sword is sharp

Raised high above my head

It cuts through the tendons of

My weakness

Heals in passing

Even as it leaves scars

But oh how you

Are its sheath and without

A place to rest

The edge never dulls

And it turns on me

In its thirst for release

Let me plunge it deep

With the force of my attention

There, I shall rest

A moment’s oblivion

And a reconnection

To the gentle man I can

Sometimes be

beauty, love, poetry, women

A rock amidst a storm

Rain washes away

The dirt of past transgression

Lightning scorches

Gouges glowing lava bright,

When there are cracks

Your gales test them to

See if they can be widened


Laughing at your hailstones

Even as I’m burnished by

The play of your storm

You drift away

But return and

Find me stronger and hardier

For the expression

beauty, love, lust, poetry, sex, women


Your voice

Sounding like it’s


Suckling like

A loving snake bite

Pinned beneath my kiss

My lips swimming

Within the sweet wine rivers

Of your skin

Flat tongued caresses

Casting spells into your


As a gourmet on their deathbed

Dreams of a perfect final meal

The urge to live

And die in this raw, delicious