Take a turn at poetry
See the sky in it's endless capacity
Smell the moisture and promise in the soil of the earth
Revel in the love and beauty of the many bird calls
Dance to the song that beats for your heart
Relish the warmth of your ***** thoughts
Catch your breath as she catches hers

Shudder at the shivering heat of her touch as your mind sparks, kicks and starts like an old rusty pick up truck.

Shed tears at her loss,
soft pattering rain on the window of your soul where you hide listening to the scratch of the records as they turn out melodies fresh with the scent of the baker's hands
but lacking his warmth.

Don't hear that thunder,
Rather,
Feel it within the bones you use to brace the thin beliefs and morals you wear like bleached white skin yearning for the colour only she, your sun, can provide.

Embrace that rumble,
let it shatter those bones of learned judgments, smash your shivering fearful spine allowing brave voice to let sound the cries of the hobbled child inside.

Return to the naïveté of your birth
Blood fresh iron mist flavours your first taste of life.
In this you find true words
In this you find poetry.

Death is boring.
Dark, cowled and skeletal,
Exuding a mysteriousness that she fails to fulfill.
Her goals are one dimensional
Though myriad in her often creative
Approach.
Creative after an eternity of
Collection.

God is almighty.
What can you give the man who has everything?
Your faith?
Omnipotence...
Safe bets are seldom captivating.
Unless you’re a criminal stacking the odds
While your fellow man takes the dive
For your gain,
Your glory.

Buddha is just a man.
Enlightened.
He accepted Death’s embrace,
And God’s divinity
Thrusting aside the Devil’s whispered
Temptations.
Yet
Buddha was just a man.

The Devil whispers the sweetest dreams
His voice is a silk melody
Dancing along our nerves
Touching our forbidden parts
“Take her, she wants your ****”
Plunge into her moist depths
Sheath your spear,
Spill your seed,
****** hard
Then soft
Find release in her moans
Peace and heaven in her trembling touch.

Her moist lips part
But it is not your name she sounds
Her voice once radiant with lust
With desire
Now drives a shard of hate within, through your still rapidly beating heart.
Cupid speaks another name

Once hard now limp
Pull back, pull out your flimsy ****
Look down into the empty depths of her eyes
See in them another man
Her hunger is sated
Bruised lips mouth the apology your ears refuse to hear
Yet your heart laid bare just moments before
Is pierced anew.
Laugh it off but
The Devil has his hooks in you

Another carcass for the heap
She is the hook, you are the meat
Butchered
The lost leading the sheep to slaughter
Do not fret, you are not finished
Soon you will rise a phoenix from her cooling embers
Golden and resolute
Stronger for having licked her poison
Yet you will know that you are now
A stranger to yourself
You are the hook
Find him some meat
The Devil hunts again.

Passion leads
This fool follows.

We build our relationships
With the wreckage of all our previous.
Always.

Bagage the weight of
Broken ships.

Expectations built on debree; forever mirrored in
Shrapnel.

Everyday blows huffin' and a' puffin' and'll blow your house
Down piggie after piggie, love after love bacon.

Burn the next one down to the ground.
Harvest forest fresh and be
New.

Sea breeze carrying scents
From foreign fields.
Blossoming sympathies reaching
Out over the fences of Lafayette
Cemetary.
Forest breath rustling leaves with
Faint animal musk and the
Serenity of centuries.
Still nothing smells quite like a
Young woman; bare feet and towel
Draped- fresh from
Shower
Passing.

I speak poetry when I dream of you as I drink a dram.
My words are poor.
I don't give a ****
Cause last I checked I'm still your man.

I have travelled the world
Enough to know
That those who say water
Has no flavour
Haven't.

Content.
All pubs closed.
All drink drunk.
Homebed.
Outside is
Outside.