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Watching me speak

As much as listening

Fighting the urge

To reach out and touch

Tracing a fingertip

Against the soft, red flesh

With a child like fascination

Your adult imagination

Already feels my breath

Against the places

Growing warm beneath 

Your clothes

My voice goes with you

Through you

Into you

A bow that has fired

Something deep into 


Not quite Cupid’s arrow

Because no cherub

Would do the things

That you imagine




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A Kiss, A Breath


I kiss

Air into

Your lungs

So you might

Know belly laughter

The sacred absence



My words

My touch

My kiss

Offering heat enough

To dry your tears

With a leaping

Ease and knowledge

That lesser men

Must learn




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These Walls


These walls

Pulse with intention



Wondrous fever dreaming

Borne into being

Stroked by my

Rough, gentle fingers

Sheets clenched in your fists

Your eyes blaze

Divine under my attentions

No prohibition beyond my command

Supine as you become full, my vessel

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I Know Your Wildness

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Shall we play?

Underneath fairy lights

Wrestling with one another.

Pinning you to the floor with

Playful ease.

How you giggle as you writhe,

My loving control is absolute

And how I know you so well

That you are girl and woman both

And that my strength

Is in your service

To open you up and let the light out

That seethes inside you 

That you can cry and laugh

And stomp and smash

Without more than a laugh

And a firm hand where you need it

And oh

How you need it. 

The man that you need

When want fades,

And the man that you want

When need fades



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Let me tie

Lengths of pearlescent

Ribbon around

Your nipples

A gift of goodness

Needing correction

Bind you with the

Outstretched limb


By degrees

To my rough authority

Be set free

By your submission

I know how you ache

Twisting with want

My stinging blows

Thanking me

After each strike

I see into your darkness

And find not demons

But darker,sweeter angels

I come to free them

And bind them to your service

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Two Pages (24/09/16)

I’ve moved things forward this morning, wrapping up this section with the part where we take the character from damage to reconciliation. It’s bullet points really but that’s deliberate, taking a few choice moments to capture a past that informs but does not dominate the main external and internal plotlines.  All storytelling is based on choices that you make, what you show is not the same thing as what you know. You suggest, if you’re good at it, tell the things that the reader needs to know but not much more than that.

I say ‘if you’re good at it’, I am not certain that I am but I enjoy doing it and I work at it regularly. You work in a state of solitary confinement, self imposed exile from people in order to entertain them. I say entertain because to do otherwise is on that axis between lofty and pretentious. I don’t like to think of myself as that. It’s too much bloody pressure for one thing and when you’re only reading my work on a blog, anything else sounds delusional.

There is a degree of self-appointment. No one makes you write, except in school. I could sleep in, stay up late, consume rather than produce and yet to me, it would feel like preparation for death. No matter how much grief, frustration, upset, repetition is involved, the glory of finishing something and being satisfied with it is quite spectacular sometimes. There are good days and bad in writing, but you keep going and going until something is finished then start again with something else. The pleasure is in the work, the process not always the reward If the rewards motivate you, then that’s great but don’t make them your sole source of gratification. I believe that discipline beats motivation every single time, and discipline is not dependent upon the praise or criticism of others. Discipline is quiet, it shuts up and listens, so should you. It inures you to insecurity for the most part. It doesn’t stop it, but you can reassure yourself that you’re working and if you keep doing that, you will improve and that makes it easier for people to pay for your work, either via a publisher or off your own back.  If it is something private, intimate then you can go deeper into the pain or the emotion, find the nuances in the experience and reach for the sublime within that. I don’t assume everyone writing is doing it for financial acclaim, to one degree or another, we write for some deep, personal reason. Pleasure is perfectly acceptable as a motive, as is pain.  To increase the former and decrease the latter defines so much of life, but we need the balance of both in order to grow and develop as people.

I’ve put up another episode of my series, The Ogden Review, and I’m pleased with how that’s going. It’s pure playground for me, it’s sloppiness and plotholes are a small price to pay for the simple joy of being able to write without a care in the world. It’s not slapdash work at all, but it lacks the ambient agony that the books engender. It has it’s own energy and I hope that if you’re reading this, then you might read that. If not, it’s cool too, there’s lots of good books and writing out there and you have to make choices.


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Morning Papers

Not that anyone really

Reads them anymore

But I bring one home

Back into bed with

Coffee from oversized cups

Warm skin warming mine

We choose stories

Our differences do not grate

And it’s difficult to resort

To rhetoric when the soft

Curve of your hip

Is next to mine

Politics is the operating system of the world

But we’re both just people

And we share values on the right things

Sometimes we debate

The route to a kinder world

And from this bed

We can see the world

The ten thousand joys and sorrows

And the things that upset us

Aren’t so upsetting when

They’re shared.

Until we’re kissing

The pages float like

Falling birds

The coffee cools

Enthused, infused

And the air fills with

Cries of mutual delight


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You thought yourself

A vacuum barely illuminated

By tepid light from a dying sun

Denied anything but a half-life

And yet how this explosion

Slow as glacier melting

Soft as breath

I did not overwhelm

Simply waited

Showed my worth

Let my soul musk

Lead you by the nose

Until you were craving

To be suffused within it.

Delivered into my rough, gentle hands

Made anew, positioned to

A point of divinity

And oh god how you bloomed

Until you tested my nerves

With the ferocity of a passion


And if you expand past my limits

I will watch from the red shift

And smile at your progress

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This little toe

From your toes

Up your calves
A bite here
To make you giggle
Careful across the knee
A slow climb upwards
Lips and tongue
But my eyes looking forever
Lost in those eyes
Anticipation making my cock
Ache with want
But the inside of your thighs
Kissing a tattoo
That bears my mark
Indelible as my love
Open to me
Hands at the back of my head
You’ve learned to love this
When we are out
Watching me speak
And thinking of the magic
That my lips evoke
Starting with your toes
You smile to yourself
Panties growing warm
With anticipation
Ready to receive
Pleasure like you’ve never known