check mate

quietly, the rustling movement of the cloaken mind
takes a step towards, furrowed brow, deftly moves behind.
intent on easy subterfuge and patiently he sees
all the tiny, little glances, touches, purposed subtleties.
so little is invested and so little offered up
for meager light to shine upon, wine to fill the shim'ring cup
a dance is stepped unnoticed in the dim lit, murky sway
outside, the lookers cannot tell the predator from prey

locked in combat gentle on the chessboard of desire
betting currency of pleasure on the edge of wrath and ire
tossing coins of jealous gold across the table made of ice
making cheap the heavy cost of what is virtue, what is vice
deftly and with purpose she now turns and looks away
he smiling and unmoving, eyes transition, blue to grey
unseen the cords of ether and unseen the hands that strive
pulling silent, resolute, a struggle deep within the minds

touch, a moment linger, and then turn and walk away
see the moistened lips, the hips that sumptuously sway
as taught the lines, the reels, the binds with lightning stretch out firm
baited hook becomes a smouldering look, the other player's turn
deftly and intently, let the settling net make blind
and draw the soul into the endless wells of deep fathomless eyes
close her in and wrap in comfort of a warm embrace, benign
then off now further down the shore, another game for which to find

knowing well the fickle nature of the shoreline that is walked
and the hollow tenderness of all the nets of words he talked
smiling sly at those who, angry, shake their fists and cast their blame
but throw their gold upon the table, ante up to play the game.

on navigating the bogs of the dying

Take the hazy photographs down with you when you go
Line the rooms you find, the tombs, where voices ebb and flow
And decorate the sumptuous cakes and treats they spread upon
Sweating table top, the putrid slop, to eyes on which they fawn.

It is sickly, it is sweetly, it is decadent, this tune
Music lightly, young and spritely, heavy painted and perfumed
Cast your glances, risk your chances, cast the sweaty dice again
Looking quickly to the others lest they deviantly win.

The wisdom of the ages, bought with money, crisp and bright
Speaks of notions, deep devotions, foreign essences, a blight
On dais dim, a din, a tune that speaks the elegant, divine
"Look!  Enticement of these vices , are all theirs, they are not mine."

The hollow feast, the rancid beast, the emptiest succour
Fill their belly, drain the well and dip a greedy hand once more
Wrap a cloak of smoke and soak their deeds in virtue pure
Engulfing aura, pour a little more, this stain'ed cure

Some little lies, gentlest goodbys, a scene for to maintain
A dusty stage, a rage, apoplectic acid rain
Veiled and frantic antics aimed to halt at any cost
Lest the set be met with light of day and then be lost

So entering this oddly placed theatre of macabre
Walk thou softly, look aloft, ye, do not trust to vision, Love
For demons there, are clinging there, and they do not concern
With hearts a'beat, with wondering feet, with what their fire burns

Do not touch these hallowed trinkets, do not whisper words of doubt
Brace your shoulders, look not bolder, though you're in, you are without
So'f by the grace of God you trod, you plod, you tread to yonder shore
Cast off the dust, the rust, disgust, walk on and dwell on this no more.

Reaching

I reach for you, tantalizing against the summer moon,

You sit there, warm against my embrace, feeling the pull of the ecstatic draw,

The pure and servile notions of a lover’s desire.

I reach for you, desperately seeking the feel,

The sensation of a touch, moment.

A moment.

When I find you I am full, the singular fullness of a lover,

The singular fullness of a need, fulfilled.

I feel you moving beneath my skin.

I reach for you, knowing as you draw to me,

Knowing as you need me back,

Your skin is against me, filling my soul….

I reach for you….

Stones, Common in Kind

I sat and tried to fathom you,

I sat and spoke my mind.

I spoke of petty things to you,

I spoke of things unkind.

You talked of conversations

Of the words of days gone by.

I told some secrets of my own,

I spoke of passing by.

Hours passed and there we were,

Spinning the words of soul.

Spinning and telling things inferred,

Things, some new, some old.

We walked down roads long left untrod,

Places we had been.

Lived memories we thought were gone,

Lost and found again.

I found a tinge of pain I keep buried deep inside,

Followed feelings home again

Remembered friends of mine.

I spoke of the regrets I had,

You spoke of those you bear.

I asked just how we all could tell

Just where to go from here.

I do not think we ever found

The answers that we need.

Perhaps these conversations are simply manna

On which the soul does feed.

The sands flew through the hourglass,

The failing light long gone.

The time was forced to end,

With words still left undone.

Fleeting taillights shining

 as you drove away.

Bittersweet,  but glad you had been

part of this long day.

And as I slowly sauntered back

to a cold and lonely place.

I wondered if you looked back now

And you too felt the same

I sat and tried to fathom you,

You sat and spoke your mind.

It seems the stones that make us two

Are stones common in kind.

The Mysterious Serendipity of an Evening

Looking up I saw you.  Your face looking down, slightest parted lips.

I remember the smile when you saw me look up.

The soft, delicate feel of your breasts as you hugged me, surprised as I was.

A tiny bit of me drowned in the warmth of you, the scent of you, the desire of you…even then.

I watched you talking, there in the midst of the bustling nothing.

I watched the movement of your lips, the twinkle in your eye. 

I saw you glance to the table,

When you thought you may have said a bit too much.

With each minute I saw you more.  When we were propositioned to join,

They saw me seeing you, they retreated.

Others spoke to me of seeing us there but being unwilling to break the spell,

Though they knew not why or what sort it was.

We sat at the table in the corner later, I brought you a drink.

We ate, we spoke, the images of it flow through me.

And when you showed me “Angry Birds”, I leaned in and took in the closeness,

As I had not indulged before.

In truth, had my inhibitions and fears been less, I would have wrapped my arms around you,

Given in to my desire to feel the beating of your heart against my own. 

I did not though.

Contented with being close enough that the heat of your body reflected on my own,

I pretended to care about the game on your phone, only to be next to you a little more.

I could not speak to you of my thoughts, my feelings. 

I invited you to come and sit a while.

And, when you said yes, and though I knew it was childish and silly,

I struggled to contain my arousal at the thought of spending the evening next to you, whatever the guise.

I watched with careful abandon as your headlights followed me.

I could not bear to lose you, though I hardly knew the way…

Arriving there, I found pleasure in entering the fine hall

With you walking beside me, walking with me.

Long hours we sat, exchanging things,

Embracing things, desiring things.

You fidgeted and tugged at your hem.

I regularly withdrew behind my hands,

Both concerned we would expose too much, too far, too long.

It was a joy to walk beside you as you left me. 

That moment, that stroll, knowing it would be the last for long days.

I felt the softness of you as you leaned into me

And I knew the night was done.

Missing You

And what is this darkness?

What is thy claim?

Where is the hold you ought to have?

Nay, thy claim, the notion that you are pain,

That you are hideous and awful,

These boasts are but folly.

You are comfort.

Into darkness one might slip,

Never seeing, void of feeling,

Never aware, never seething,

Just drifting to places from which one cannot see

Darkness what a comfort you could be. 

What a balm.

But no. 

There is no comfort. 

No blessed pitch’ed black.

Only the gleam of light that cannot be reached.

Only the fingertips stretching out, shaking with rage and need and angst,

Only the voiceless cry of desire, of willing wings to sprout and to fly to the light of her!

Only the shaking of the foundations of the mind as the whirling imagination tells tales that cannot be, that will not be, that rip the soul.

Oh! For the blessed womb of night!

Oh for the encapsulation of senseless void.

Darkness. Ha!

Darkness is respite from this untouchable light…

Odin to Fjorgyn

I cannot separate the deepest thoughts I have of you

From the lonely crags and steeples I am walking through.

In numbing flashes of your eyes, it reaches far beyond the new

And finds a place, it rests where I cannot get to.

With gentle smile you lift me far above the dismal clouds of grey

And when you close your eyes it also ends my day.

And when I see that faint inflection longing for some heady change

It eats upon me and it wears my heart away.

Would that I could only lift my arms and turn the weary world away from you.

Then reach them slowly, gently, softly to embrace, encapsulate and cover you.

I would build a hedge around you raise a palace made of sky and water blue.

I would compel the world to bow and lay its treasures down right there in front of you.

I am low, am mortal man and in my hands the earth is cold

I will not offer things; I will not be so bold.

I will cast my lidded glance across the barren wasteland old

Find the place where love and hate are bought and sold.

If I happen to; strange, stumble upon something oh so dear

If fate allows me, if I overcome my fear.

If memory of Angel’s eyes sustains me well away from here

And if a man can find sustenance in a tear…

I will lift my arms and with a glance of love and malice turn their eyes from you.

Praying fear and recognition will not make you fly when I’m revealed to you.

And if the demons that now pace your steps approach, they’ll be unable to come through.

And all the earth will know that all I ever wanted was to lie down next to you.