poetry, women, masculinity, beauty, love

Whether dream

https://mbblissett.com/2019/06/20/whether-dream/

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beauty, love, masculinity, poetry, women

Whether dream

Streets turned to mirrors

Marking time with cigarettes

And in my head

I’m twisting you to points of

Sublime, complicated pleasure

Being smart is sometimes

As much a burden as being aroused

The world mocks the man

Who owns himself

Good

Bad

But my kisses are sweet

And before the world calls me

Home

One last kiss

Whether dream

Whether real

To send us off

To whatever comes

Next

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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, 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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beauty, love, poetry, women

Suits made of words

Sit down

Rest your head on my shoulder

Because in person,

I’m quiet with you because

The act of listening says

How I feel more than fragile words

Ever could

And even if you are silent

I still pay attention

Because so many people

Scream at the dark

And it tires me

How about you?

So sit

Remember this is all

We have

And even if we hadn’t met

In person

I would have known you

Even wearing a suit of words

But sit,

Tell me things

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