So what if your body
Is sweetly inviting
Inviting me to play around
To play within the depths of your mind
Not for mind games
But the other games
You know...
The *****, fun games

So what if I'm impressed
At the words that appear
On the blank sheet
In my head as you speak
So what that I cannot
Enter a room without
Accidentally finding you in it
One way or another

You've ruined me
In the sweetest way
I can imagine the day
When I convince myself
It’s really you
No games
Not in my mind
Just in me

I’m running from you
Running to you
You’re smiling
Is it really you
Inviting me
Into your mind
I’m walking away
Looking back, wondering..

Lily Nurmi & Paul Gaffney.

Aw girl, did you dance with the devil
Get ripped apart
Where’s your heart
Ah, I see it beating in the gutter
Well girl, what can I say
Life's a *****, and then you die
But you don’t want to hear that
No,no, not in your beautiful world
Not in pin up poster world
Aw girl
You want to go down to the love hospital
They’ll put you back together
But guess what
That beating heart
In the gutter
Maybe wants to last past puberty
So hey, I’ve been round the block
I’ll give you ten seconds of my time
Best ten seconds of advice you’ll ever hear
That rose growing in the garden there
Is that not the most beautiful thing in the world
Now, not only is that rose beautiful
It’s also very smart
It knows some ******* is going to try and take liberties
So it surrounds itself with thorns.
Do the same
Be that rose.

We stop, but life doesn't
Moving on
Is what life is all about
If we can't move on
We can't live
Under death do our souls forgive

But don't wait, don't tarry
Although death is the ultimate redeemer
It is also the great end
To all that we know and feel
In this world

Hope is always there
That even with one world set aside
There will be a place for us
In another

Let my lips please you.
Let my tongue
taste the sweetness
of your soft skin,
the glistening petals
of your secret flower.
Let its aroma entice me
as the taste of you
intoxicates me;
hearing you moan
wild rapid gasps
while you beg me
to bring you
to fullness,
as you feel my tongue
penetrate your gates,
as your hips gyrate
and you scream my name
culminating in ecstasy
that fulfills me too
with the pleasure
I have shared with you.

  ~mce

There seems
to be a fatal flaw
in the world's design
that keeps those
who care for each other
separate and at a distance,
sometimes forever.

  ~mce

The mountain sat impassively, daring
Asking no questions
Just waiting for the moment
The slip of unconquered glory
Death, or worse, permanent injury
You took my legs old friend
I hold no malice
Probably love you more
I’ll be getting my new ones soon
Walking in no time they say
But walking is no good to people like us
It’s the intimacy
We are one
I promise to be gentle
If I make it, I won’t gloat
If not, we stay friends forever.

The mysterious pregnancy
of the present moment.
Call it hazard, randomness
whatever you like.

Contained in that moment,
all the possibilities of life.
The locus of existence.
Whatever you do could
change everything.

You are 21 and sitting in a bar.
You walk out the door and turn right.
One life looms. Hazard.
You walk out the door and turn left.
A different life. Hazard.
You stay at the bar;
someone sits down beside you.
A third life opens up. Hazard.

Forget choice. You didn't choose,
you just unthinkingly did.
Yet so many possibilities
in that innocent instant.
Mythic, timeless, un-contemporary.
Powerful as a Black Hole.

We speak of good choices,
bad choices, as if we control
our lives absolutely.

Wrong. Worse than wrong: absurd.
Ego. You believe yourself a god?

First comes the random hazardous moment,
numinous and fecund with an unknown power.

Choice only follows that moment.
You choose within the arena of hazard.

Only then, thumbs up or down.

I wish humans could see
we're meant to be free
Only some understand
Most are asleep
We are meant to be
up in the trees
or running through fields
and jumping in leaves
It's make believe
what we've come
to believe
And it's sad to see
From up in my tree

January’s woman melts the snow.
February’s woman is good to go
March she blows like the wind
Aprils woman is sad then warmingly glad
May the shackles are off
June in bed till noon
July love on the beach
August same woman, roll on september
September’s woman is petite and coy
October is comfort and joy
November’s woman is fireworks, this is the one
December’s woman is ice cold, she’s just found out what  i've being doing for the last eleven months and wants a divorce.

I've said goodbye at bus stops
In coffee shops, on planes.
In broken down hotel rooms
and in sudden summer rains.
I've said it without speaking
when I could not find the words.
In parking lots, at funerals
and to the song of birds.
When forced to without meaning it
I've even said it too,
but the hardest thing I'll ever do
is say goodbye to you.

An old man smitten against the odds;
what could be more pathetic?
He knows a lot. He knows better than this.
He has been to war, married, divorced.
He knows all the games from both sides.
He knows she is young, beautiful, far away.
He knows that she chooses whom she wants;
that she runs the game.
He knows he brings nothing to her
but empty hands and a worshipful soul.
He has stayed alive this long
by knowing and covering the odds.
In that, he has always been smart.
Never play the other man's game.
Keep a clear head. Surprise your enemies.
Know when to laugh and walk away.
And yet, he wants nothing more
in the world than a seat at this table
in this most unlikely game.
A chance to win what can't be won.
A chance to have what can't be taken.
One very much last chance.
An old man smitten against the odds;
what could be more pathetic?

  ~mce