work, writing

Update

I’ve been setting up 51R which turned out to be a larger piece of work than expected.

It is much better and I am excited to share some of it with you in the near future.

There’s been some deep work with the writing and it’s been good so far. It’s a time of transition, which is reflected in the work I am doing.

Change is coming, and I couldn’t be happier.

I’m on Twitter as @mbblissett

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poetry

Stephanies Son

I’m Stephanies son

Not Brendon

Or Brian

Nor Frank

But her son

And also Brians grandson

Tim’s nephew

Once I was Patsys husband

And I’ll always be

Harley And Scarletts dad

And amidst all those names

Some part of me

Remains apart

Hoping someone will see

If I could fix myself

But, sometimes I wonder

If it’s too late for me

And in the most eloquent

Expressions of anxiety

If one day she’s going to be bored

Of me

But nameless and faceless

I still reach out

Take my hand and tell me

I’m not invisible

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books, erotica, love, lust, women

51R

51R

U 83L0NG 2 51R

A novel from M B Blissett.

A woman enters into a virtual world to realise her darkest fantasies and falls in love with the man responsible for bringing them to life, pitting her against the rules of the world she has entered.

Coming soon from L&MB Press.

 

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love, masculinity, poetry

Strings of light and shadow

There are moments

Hung suspended

A string of lights

Still lit,

Long past the season,

A few bulbs, dead with time

But sat there,

Bathed in a carnival of light,

All festive colours

Even the cheer has a dim memory,

But the shadows matter as much

As the light they oppose,

And between them both

I sit

And hold your hand

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beauty, love, lust, poetry, women

Driving Me Mad

Grounded by the weight of the

Unresolved lust

Slow and heavy

Almost adolescent with irritated

Acceptance

Coiled and ready to bite

Spit and clutch until

The poison drains away

Never more alive than when

I lean into my hunger

Bend you over and make you gasp

Raw and impolite

As ever, gentle ferocity

And clumsy with release

I struggle to breathe with it

Aware and awake,

Sullen animal with your scent in my nostrils

And, baby girl, it’s driving me

Mad.

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beauty, love, men, poetry, women

Coffee, with demons.

Being good

Practices

Magic spells to ward old devils away

Being able to leave your phone unattended,

Without the low hum of fear

Running nails down your spine

But no one notices

Because you’re supposed to

And no cookies for the bad boy

Who is being a good man,

Coffee with my devils,

Black, no sugar

But he ladles dessert spoons worth,

Into his

She’s asleep,

Could go through and tell her,

But no, goodness is simpler

And I don’t beg

There is no notion of getting lucky

There is

There isn’t

I know magicians

And she told me about

Compassionate compromise

So, in the wan hours of morning,

Sat and talking,

With my demons,

Educated to a point of refinement,

It is almost invisible.

And the only things cut are

The horns from his head,

But sometimes,

They still sting.

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beauty, love, men, poetry

Paternal Column

All now is father,

Bear the pangs

With aplomb

Voice in the throes of

A roar and how much better

To be heard than to find

No one was listening in the first place

Say less, act more,

A little more kindness and gentle ferocity of spirit,

Here, no hope but action.

And when you find weariness

Has the force of gravity,

I will be your column.

No matter how deep the cracks

Go inwards

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