Lust and Love (a collaboration with Lazarus)

Don’t know what to write

Don’t have that innate poet sight

Rhymes ain’t tight

Good night

                          

Don't know what to write

Mind blank, paper white

Rhymes could be tighter

Night could be brighter

Fuck the mind of a writer

Tonight I'm a fighter

I'm fighting for thoughts, words and images

I'm fighting for motherfucking visages

I'm fighting for my own peace of mind

Quiet thoughts, candlelight and red wine.

                                                    

Don’t know what to write

Fuck this shit, heading out tonight

Sex and drugs

Gangs and thugs

Knives and blood

Lust and love

Through my head, my mind disperses

Words, sentences, lines and verses

It’s been a long, long night

Just begun, now I write

Sex and drugs

And winter is coming

Gangs and thugs

These streets ain't becoming..

Of a woman. Think I should

Do all the things

My mind tells me I shouldn't

Lust and love play out like act one

And to think my night's only just begun

Sirens blaring and twenty toes

Under sheets is where the magic happens,

To a woman. It's been too long...

I'll leave the light on.

Gangs and thugs

Sweetly sweat

Sex and drugs

Baited breath

These streets are home

To a man. Trying not to

Do all the things

My body tells me I should

Act one long gone, act two ongoing

The night is young, younger still

Ten of those toes, fingers searching

For lost love between thick thighs

For love lost. It's been too long...

I'll turn the light off.

The night is young

Whispers

baited breath

And I felt a rush down my neck

Hands searching

in the silhouette

Of bodies black, throbbing

under the moonlight

Looking for love

In all the wrong places

Fingers get lost

in forgotten spaces

Between thighs and sighs

Sweat and screams

A conversation only lovers have

It seems.

Having his way

By that lamp post down yonder

As night turns to day I only feel younger

And the Stars looking down

Tonight bear witness

To the lust of a man

And his mistress

To the taste of a sorrow's

Mockingbird

He screams in climax

She whispers the L word

He pauses.

i want hands..

..hands that trace the lines
   and
     crevices of my body
        hands that love me.

hands that mold
    hands that create
       hands that nurture
         hands that surprise me

powerful hands, loving hands
    hands that lift me up
       hands that can carry me
          (if necessary)

i want forgiving hands
    honest hands
       soft hands
          hands that whisper
             listening hands
                hands that are free

hands that aren't afraid to be led at times
   hands that i can grow old with
     hands that want to grow old with mine
        hands that hide no spaces
hands that i love

yes, i want that.

Dig.

there is too much to me
than to be locked up in a box,
to be kept secret. there is
too much.
too much substance.
too much light.
too much love to give.
than to let my desire simmer
in a poorly lit room, where
blues are kept.  dreams are
dreamt, a dive in the sea of
unhappiness. there is too
much - lovemaking to be
making groaning moaning
toes curling tongue twirling
sweet sweat body
sucking..
too much fucking.
there is more to me
than to be caged, a ragamuffin of rage breaking free.
too much more to me.
than to be somebody's nobody
somebody's what if
somebody's maybe.
too much to me than to feel..
petty
envious
jealousy. too much to me.
S p a c e
give me eternity
there is too much to me to wait on anybody.

there is too much to me
than to be locked up in a box,
to be kept secret.

there is too much..