masculinity, passion, poetry, women

Where The Light Gets In

My bones strung

With Christmas lights,

And I feel the light getting out

Through the scars of my

Mistakes but I’ve learned,

How to offer forgiveness,

To those who warrant it,

Silence to those who do not,

And although there have been

Long stretches of velveteen dark,

I made myself real,

And took to the forest,

Fur damp and eyes gleaming,

If the mocking laughter

Reaches me

I’ve attuned my ears

To the envy,

And the pain beneath the


I’ve felt it too,

And not seen it as a demonstration of


I live, laugh, love,

With too much force

To hold within

Without control,

Life is a test or

A celebration,

Sometimes both at the same time,

The lesser demons don’t

Break my skin,

And I see them with pity,

Even as I learn from them,

The earth moves beneath me,

Brings my muse closer,

To home,

A person,

A place

All three,

The same thing.

beauty, love, masculinity, poetry, women

By the fire

My eyes hurt

From staring too

Long into old dreams

Staying far from the places

Where they cut your shadow

From you as a condition

Of entry,

I will make my home

In the dust

Build a fire,

Find something to die

So I can fill

My belly

Such a life

Free of hollow imperatives,

Lends me strength

Against the teeth

Of lesser men,

Boys grown old and bitter,

But not up.

Manhood is a choice

Made by men,

And those who avoid it,

Become pallid enemies,

Pretending to be friends

To women,

I wait by the fire,

And soon you will

Come, baby girl,

Find your way here,

A home with me,

Wherever I go.

animals, masculinity, poetry, Uncategorized

The Last Of Us

They came for us,

Cut the horns from

Our heads to make us safe,

Left us bleeding in the


Lost to a solipsistic dance,

Of glee,

And if one of my brothers charged

To save his own life,

They shot him and called it

A redress of grievances

Imbalances and how toxic

Our strength made us,

Yet as we dwindled,

Our concerns ignored,

They hunted us in silence,

Decried our existence,

Until it is just me,

I became the last

And now as the sun sets,

I leave the world to them,

Will they miss us,

When we are gone,

Strongest, wildest animal,

And those who loved us,

Kept silent,

But the anger has gone,

Minute in the face of such

Massive tragedy,

But my horn remains

True and upright

Even to

My last


beauty, love, lust, poetry, sex, women

A King At War, A Queen At Rest.

To write the

Story of my

Reign across the

Kingdom I carry within,

Walls burnished smooth,

With the harsh winds of


An army of weak men waits,


And the only sword to hand,

Sits sheathed on my hip,

But they will, to a man,

Die knowing failure.

My actions are my armour,

My sharpest weapons,

And you, my queen,

Stay safe in the royal bed,

I will forever walk to the

Gates and slay them all,

Return, grinning and exhausted,

Wear the crown and nothing else

Kiss my wounds closed

My expression will not change,

But the actions will

Bloom sweet flowers of

Action on your skin,

Leave your hips singing

With the force of my dominion,

And know you have

Divinity between your thighs.

masculinity, men, poetry



If I came home with

Good grades in English and Drama,

He’d sneer and ask why I couldn’t get them in maths,

Made me sit at the table,

Before congealing meals,

Until I finished or mum,

Would intercede,

She left him because of me,

Put herself through hard times,

I’ve never been able to express

How much it meant to me,

I saw him yesterday,

Wizened like a rotten apple,

In a mobility scooter,

I’d long since let go of the anger,

Like taking off shoes a size too small

I said hello and caught the bus

To work,

My life is good now,

And I became all he resented,

And all he was,

I wish him peace because there were

Are other fathers I’ve learned from,

They’re here, when I look in the mirror,

And my mum is fine,

I’ve learned from him,

And I wonder if he saw,

How I met his gaze,

Without anger,

And the way I carried myself,

As I walked on.

If not, it doesn’t matter.

I chose myself and those I love,

Over hating him.


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

A beast breathes.

Loud in ignorance,

Stuffing down the chaos

Until it clawed at the lining

Of my stomach,

Blood was cold,

Couldn’t feel my legs,

But I kept walking,

Determination being the

Most valuable trait left to me,

But the beast had never sought

My ruination,

Only acknowledgement,


And so in endless twilit

I listened, heard the inherent pleas,

Found within me

The means to bring it to the


Quieter now but not from a lack

Of things to say

But action speaks more eloquent

And when you beg I slip my collar,

Ravish you without restraint,

It is me without pretence,

Baggage smouldering outside,

Here and open to leave

Marks and suffused you in

Dizzying lust,

Read fairy stories and fix

Things without being asked,

When I am not there,

Open the window,

Hear the roar of the wind,

It is my breath

Calling your name.



beauty, love, lust, poetry, sex, women

Secret Mansions

Rough with want,

Aching too much

For anything but holding,

But even there,

I give the gift of my strength,

My silence,

Blessing the space

I give you what you

Wrap yourself around me,

Tight as you can,

I breathe through it,

Your goodness, subtle and involving,

Goes to my head like smoke,

Slow strong hands,

Grazing down your back,

Mellow and quiet,

Watching the play of shadows,

And your cheek against my chest,

Fingers grazing my beard,

Cigarette long since dead in the

Ashtray because you’re my drug,

Right now, and I only fight sleep

When I know I can win,

Falling into one another,

Without moving.

Other than a long, slow

Kiss goodnight

A key to the mansions

Of my mind slipped

Beneath your pillow.

All you need do is open the door

Come to my bed, baby girl,