It's after midnight now
I've come to howl
the words my muse
keeps in her bag
She's a blackhearted *****
with gnarly teeth
and razor thin lips to bare
She has kerosene breath
and her fingers are as cold as death
She's long desired
to catch me in bed
But I would drown in the creek
before I would be tongue bound
and give in to such an ugly witch
She plys me with liquor
He tongue is word flickered
She dances around and around
I stand but falter , and tumble on over
And she's quicker than a cat on a moth
She's licking my neck
and I shudder from cold z' over
She lays across my chest and declares
"I'll put you to test , taking all of your best"
Then she slides her hands under my shirt
Then cackling with glee
she strips down my clothes to my "T's"
So excited she trembles ecstatically
She raises her dress and sits down upon me
She screams  in such delight like
two bobcats fighting at night
And I lay helpless as I stare
She moans , then groans
then short tempered yells
and many an "almost"  and "Oh Oh Oh's"
Then turns soft as a quail
Her fingers now all over warm
Replacing the cackles and bows
a beautiful voice that glows
She whimpers like a puppy scorned
She's now in the buff
And little concerned
In the calm after the storm
her true beauty really shows

The butterfly of many talents
talked nothing but of himself...
and never stopped to Listen
or gain true conversational wealth
cloaked in flamboyent colors
his butterfly wings so huge,
captured a little lost lady moth
(looking for the moon)
and kept her as his muse

just as the wings of the butterfly
so was the moths heart large
and so she inspired her captor unconditionally..
and loved freely, fanning him...
& flapping her wings too hard...
each time they would tear ,
she'd ignore the searing pain
for with all of her inner beauty;
by no means was she vain

the butterfly misused his muse
did not reciprocate emotion
so her wings drooping stupidly
with blind devotion
were as lost shadowed in his coloring
as before.......
searching for the light of moon in black ocean

he had never saved her from the vast
sky-sea & empty Galaxy
But used her flutter as a tool
to satisfy his selfish artistic needs

the little lost moth lost flight
As she began to understand
the light butterfly provided
was a stage light made by man

all the time she lost
robbed her spirit and stole her grace
so she rubbed the powder off his big bright wings and thought
-what good is his outward beauty now that he can no longer soar in space-
Disenchanted but free at last
moth tries but can never trust color
won't inspire art or music
and will never love another.....

Muse :
"Move over fool and watch a Muse Master
at work"


      In the blackness of my soul
      I sit listening to far off thunder
      As inside it also rolls

      For long long seconds
      There is no sound
      Then begins the brumble bound

      Quicken flashes does my mind's
      Hindsight cause flashes white
      Of the truth hidden by the night

      It is perhaps then I stir
      And begin to think of you
      A soul's ***** as if a burr

      Then the truth will crash
      And I slow count to ten
      Before I hear rumble within

      Then comes a calm
      No more flash or sound
      I have burried my thoughts of you


Me :
"I don't know ," I say. "Maybe by tomorrow's
light . . . . I'll have a say ."

Then the muse did stare
With such a cold cold glare
All the fluids in my glass froze

There she was
Then she wasn't
And she vanished
Into the cold thin air

I met a man in church today
Reminds me of my sunshine
He led the praise and worship team
I kept looking
And wondering
What was it..
Maybe his brows
Thick and distoted
Perhaps that archaic smile
Or his short teeth

No,not his face
His voice perhaps?
The colour of his pants?
The green
On my favorite watch
Painted on my bedroom door
Maybe it was just me
On another episode
Of my imagination
Relentlessly
Primal and raw

Yes!
I must **** my darlings
I will strangle them by the neck
Slowly and surely
Strip them of their beauty
Of their allure
Always captivating
Motivating
And cultivating

And I will prepare a dirge
In their honour
Ooh their beauty I will praise
Their creation I will
Forever be thankful for
Ooh darlings,
I will weep for you
And then let you go
I need you gone
Good riddance!
Tears...

motions rigid, actions unspoken
breathing intensified, darkness blackened
bodies unseen, unforgiving hands travel
passionate candles dance to the rhythm of the newborn beat
secretive longings, lusting scenarios
whispered callings, stimulated beings
sparks ignited, rigid loving
beings become intertwined instantly once the opportunity arises
sensual kisses, playful bites
scratches unobtainable, shivers unintentional
pulses quicken, thrusts intensify
smiles widen while moans roar to escape the overwhelmed being
moments freeze, emotions boil
blood churns, shivers spread
amazement portrayed, ****** ceases

She is a tress of hair out of place,
combed in slow sweeps from my forehead.
I thought her an enigma to perchance unravel
by the press of well-paired lips
or by a mind besotted with moon glow
and Grenache wine;
one wicked with wisdom.

Saccharine words stirred into woody coffee,
I, Whitman, imagine her
the chill of Robert Frost
clung like sugar grains to my Leaves of Grass.

Almandine eyes of the nine Mousai
revved up by unbridled inventiveness…
I twinge too much to hold it inside,
she triumphs beyond the rim of her vessel,
so our ache and exultation
steal past the musing sentinel of apprehension;
and leap from once dormant imagination
into spirit shadows and splendid motifs.

She is a stranger to all,
but to those whom she whispers as lover.
We, two strangers of sun and moon,
curl nubile into night
to take our nuptials at dawn.

One hundred million miles and
one earth between us;
now bound as one, we pull the tides
into an unexpected tempest in my heart;
a tender act of indiscretion
undoing a tame, near tepid, bearing.

Thus muse and artist
feast upon the provender of providence
and all delectable in between them.