beauty, love, masculinity, poetry, women

Play

Remember

It is all a game

With one rule

You must never be boring

Whilst also being

Calm and stable

Able to bear chaos and confusion

With a warm welcome

Wrestle the titans to the earth

And bring their arms behind

Their back

Until the snap of bone

Louder than a frustrated teacher’s

Chalk

But it is a game

Played with such focus

It is impossible to tell 

Whether it is a game

At 

All

But you play nonetheless

Resist the temptation to change

soften

Because when the lines snap

And the silence realised its 

Potential as the signs

They’ve checked out

A roll of the dice

Thrown by your intuition

But all the games

Bitter and dark

Have one weakness

You’ve never

Played 

Against

Me

Before

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lost in a house of hours

Exhausted seconds

Spilling from my fingers

Into a thick bed of minutes

In a house built from hours

I wander these rooms

A purposeful ghost

Alive to make

My mark on these walls

Crumbling as they are

I hear you

From another room,

But this house brings

The scent of you to me

And it is the bedroom where

We find one another

And our kisses

Stop time

Breath

And thought

Like a child’s dream 

Of lightning

And we don’t waste

A single

Beautiful

Moment

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feral ballet

We are at our most inventive

Transgressive

When there is no thought

Only action

Wrestling around

A spark of conversation

A bonfire of consent

My hands, large and dark around your wrists

The right angle in the dark

A feather breath of pressure

Soft laughter and then the tight grunt

Question

Answer

Experience

On languid waves of sensation

Your pale skin against my fur

Shivering with need as we wrap around

One another

Some mysteries are solved

In the warm, damp dark

Laughing like children

A feral ballet

Hills of the sheets

And I touch your face

Sending the ache you

Inspire through everything

I

Do

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You And I

We sit

Same warm brown eyes

Equal amounts of silver

In the beards

‘So what did we learn?’

Persistence

I think I found God

After a fashion

And beneath his gaze

Real or imagined,

It did not matter

Some parts of me

Receded 

Others thickened

I am leaner

Kinder to myself

But new hungers awoke

Whilst the compass 

Pointed to my true north.

And still

I remain

Acute to the bitter bubbling away

Of chaos

But couched in the armour 

Of purpose

I can lift my sword in defence of

Myself

Those who I love,

Near and far,

‘What about you?’

I still exist,

A tenant somewhere,

Perhaps a ghost in a dream house,

But leave me with your interest in

Self destruction

And the taste for t shirts with logos

‘I love you ‘

As you should,

I’m gorgeous. 

One fades

And well, 

I’m not even here,

Except

(And this will get me exiled from

Many a perfumed garden)

I

Am

Read

A single word,

And we can never be strangers

To one another,

You 

And I.

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If You’ve Enjoyed…

If you’ve enjoyed what I’ve posted, and want to contribute:

Here is my wishlist

Here is where you can buy me a coffee.

The next few posts will round up what I’ve been doing, and how I’ve been entertaining myself through the last twelve months.

No, there won’t be gloomy political predictions. The world is nowhere as bad as you’ve been led to believe. In the meantime, look back but not with sadness and also buy me something. I’m gorgeous, humble and entertaining. I’ve not made you feel bad about yourself and deserve your tributes.

 

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it still gets done

talk until my throat is raw

reading on chill bus seats

writing with the laptop balanced

on my knee

it still gets done

foot rubs, trips to the shop,

emails at odd hours

it still gets done

sleep treated like a cherished friend

slip beneath warm sheets to

open mouthed kisses

seeing the scarlet candied glow of lights

and not being upset by it

it still gets done

almost too much to write about

to tell you

in a warm whisper

coffee and cinnamon on my breath

leaner and hairier than before

bu this, the secret to a life

which still makes of its burdens

i love you

it still gets done

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Weekend Omnibus 09/12/2018

All The Lights

cat and colossus

Fastest Pen In The West

My Fingers In Your Hair

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