love, masculinity, poetry, women

slaying dragons

Slaying the dragon

Isn’t done in a single blow

It fights with everything

From the places it has manifested,

Made a lair from the bones of my old excuses,

And each blow struck

Bathes me in its blood

The prima materia

Dissolving

Renewing me as I fight

Better poised to defeat it

A steep climb

But my hands are strong

They speak to my feeling

Its expression of my will

Breathing the air and finding it

Sweet for not knowing

How much air remains

To

Breathe

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beauty, love, lust, masculinity, poetry, sex, women

knot

with your lips

your hands

your body

untie this knot

bound so tight

it aches sometimes

all men seek release

death or victory

even when awash

with the grand exhaustion

of purpose

sometimes it makes me

brusque

the rush to seed

toyed with like sweating dynamite

Now though,

Usher me to a blind, brilliant kiss

Moist and slick with play

As you take me from myself

Your waves washing over me

How high they crash

Soaking us

Both

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love, masculinity, poetry, women

mere whispers

diamondbear

humble in defeat

to the point

the idea of my being

In such a position

are mere whispers

offered by imaginary enemies

but my victories too

come in various sizes

and some I save for myself

because they are treasures

gathered to be drawn upon

in times when all is chaos

and there is no cave

to offer shelter

i still stand,

on the battlefield

bear my scars like badges of honour

and roar to the old gods

and the ones i’ve made peace with

along the way

and you, my love,

will come to me

kiss the wounds,

the old ones

and the ones you

tried to make

for I am a king

and anyone who tells you

otherwise

I tell you,

Mere whispers

 

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love, masculinity, poetry, women

Love Is Like a Flower Garden

Love is like a flower garden – https://wp.me/p1k9lK-6PC

Coyote writes raw and bleeding poetry. He’s worth noting and connecting with. 

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beauty, love, lust, poetry, sex, women

As Night Falls

Agreeable in my

Savagery

To call what you inspire

Hunger is too prosaic

It is transubstantiative

Each cell of you

Dripping with the divine feminine

An ocean which quenches 

In each dive

To caress on the verge of clawing

To make you my glove

Your pulsing, aching flesh

Wrapped around my fingers

To paint without colour

On and in your skin

Rapacious in the taking

And to reduce

Elevate you

Some divine feminine sluttishness

But mine

Beautys mistake was to refine 

The beast but you’re smarter than that

Baby girl,

A companion by day and propriety

Oh but as night falls

Even in the abstract

You make of me

Something animal

and you will drink

taste

Feel me as gods hang for nine nights

From world trees

And when released 

I will carve a new world 

From the corrupted ashes 

Of

The 

Old

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beauty, love, masculinity, poetry, women

The World Answers

Cheap offerings

Granting scorn

Silence

You’ve not given enough

And when you asked

You were told

Not enough

Not in the spirit of scorn

But the cost of your path

Is not the same as its price

Bruises fade

Scars retreat like sunsets

And it is when you set your shoulder

To the wheel

Hard

Long

That the faintest rumble

A kiss from the distance

Continue because

The future is rapacious

And as you prune the

Vicious thorns of chaos

Their poison leaves you

Illusions pack a hasty bag and flee

There is the world,

And the richness of your offering

Determines what manner of world

Comes to answer

You

And it will only be you

Who

Hears

It

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hunger, masculinity, poetry, women

Take the dragon by its throat

Conceptualising the future

Working to take a vision

Inside and eat the rough bread

Of process

There is a strength in bearing

The burden of the future

In silence

In darkness

Extrapolating the struggle

And I take chaos

By its throat

It writhes against my grip

But the strength of transcendence

Makes it surrender

And so it goes limp

Damp against my fingers

The dragon’s blood

Will not stain your skin

Its flames rasp

Dry in lieu of burning you

But you do not stand on

A pedestal

Before me

And you, in turn,

Must earn your place

A throne awaits

Take your seat

Next to me

 

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