My thoughts held captive
between a goddess' thighs
Though, within her eyes
is where I feel alive.

033010~2.02a

"What's your name?"
"John"
"John who?"
"John Stevens"
"Who is, John Stevens?"
"Me"
"Hello Me!"

I remember the constant tightness in my left side,
weakness in my fragile small frame,
those part of my life seem so dark and gloomy back then

He would every so often say to me: all you have left of you is
those black eyes peas’ eyes: are you going to make it to seven?
I recalled sitting on the big rock near the front porch in tears,
and watch as my friends in their starchy white shirts
and cut seams skirt headed to Clifton hill primary school
He saw the sad look on my face that morning
“we shall be leaving soon”, he said with a faint smile
I hated our long trips; my little feet would hang over the cross bar

Sometimes, I took turns walking the long stretch of road
exercising my weak legs, before I reach our destination.
My favorite breakfast before our trip was two soft boil eggs,
a slice of bread soak in bay leaves tea with chocolate powder:

I would be literally frozen with fear each time
I visit the doctor’s office: tears would flow;
I hate the weekly section, I held on to my father’s hand for dear life

I can still hear my cousin voice saying to me
You are so lucky not having to go to school
I envied her at that moment in time, I rather to be there in my
little corner of the room, playing with my silly putty or revising my time tables, instead there I was being poke with pine needles

I guess my childhood illness scared my mother to death
because she never tried to hide her feeling toward me
on the other hand, my father saw that distant looks in my eyes
Somehow, he knew I would made the transition to adulthood
Despite what others thought of my situation?

My morning therapy section consist
of building up strength very gradually to my left side:
a simple task like squeezing half of a tennis ball was so difficult for me
I tried as hard as I could each time: just to see that smile on my father’s face
While the doctor would say, one more time, one more time:
Concentration and skill was his aim, mine was to hurry up and go home
Going  back in time to observe ...the past helps

I want to bite the flesh of your words
And let the juice of your truth trickle down my throat.
I want to inhale the scent of your joy
And graze upon your sadness
I want to devour your pain
And consume your pleasure
I want to feast on all parts of you
And relish every mouthful
Until my belly can take no more

Riding in my backpack
chattering gibberish
she charms the man
who is in a good mood
so he repairs my typewriter
     on the spot, no waiting,
     for two six-packs of Bud.
He throws in a free ribbon, too.
“Don’t tell Boss,” he says, winking
at my daughter, who is as yet
too innocent
of her power.

The seed was planted,
A flower born,
You nurture her with tender hands
And protect her from high winds.
You don't cut her thorns,
Though they might ***** you,
Because they're part of her
You love the beauty she brings to your garden
And in turn she loves the beautiful garden wherein she grows.
Any man who plants a seed
Should be prepared to love the flower

I patched the sails with paper bags, and headed on my quest. Searching for a new tomorrow, I laid my past to rest.

Blessed pennies in my pocket, and holy water strapped to my belt. I shattered all that held me back, the curse I've always felt.

Tattered ropes hold me together, I've got this map that's made of dreams. With ruin all around me, moving on is best it seems.

I'm going but not forever, as I start along the way. Taking bits of memories, that will never fade away.

Your first love's that person on the prologue of your love story
Your true love's the minor character at the start but the epilogue of your glory
Your first love's the one who leaves tears where there was laughter
Your true one wipes those tears and lives with you happily ever after
Your first love's the one you trust at first sight and doubt at last
Your true love's the one you doubt but ultimately fall and wholly trust
Your first love's the one you think you'll never forget in your lifetime
Your true love's the one not worth remembering but you never forget
Your first love's either the
first person whose heart you break
or the one who breaks your heart
Your true love's either the person
whose shattered heart you heal
or who heals & steals your hurt
I know sometimes first love can be true but
Your first love's most times the fantasy that drowns the sailor
And chains but true love's the reality you finally settle for,your "bailor"