I don’t know when, but I do know there is peace in knowing mine will be over soon.
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Daily Archives: January 20, 2019
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Exhaustion
Posted at 11:21 pm , on January 20, 2019
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My Only Haiku
Posted at 11:11 pm , on January 20, 2019
One time I was loved
I felt her in spring in arms
she soon found my eyes
~ finding my way, a personal journey ~
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When We Imagine Death
Posted at 11:05 pm , on January 20, 2019
Oh we fantasize,
the quiet, the sleep, the no longer
active duty
of being on the same page
When we imagine,
we often paint a pretty picture
because in our mind
anything is better than this,
we have forgotten everything.
When we allow ourselves
to go into the murky waters of
self-destruction,
we purposely ignore
the beauty around us.
I wonder why it is
that when I would rather be
asleep,
i do forget the beautiful faces
surround me every day
I suppose it is because
they are beautiful aren’t they
and yet,
their soul, their heart,
that passionate embrace
That piece of their lives
is meant for someone else,
and mine,
my mystique my muse my lover
is beyond my reach
So then I believe
that is what it is
the final response
to knowing we cannot achieve
the peace we know,
So instead we imagine death,
for in its absolute,
we can now begin to relax
stop trying to reach …
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If She Might Ever Know
Posted at 10:20 pm , on January 20, 2019
It will be only she
my mystique
her muse
I listen to a soft cello
in sad tears in the background
they cry out her notes
of waning despair,
I wonder if she might ever know
will only be her.
Oh I’m told I have a flirt
in my body,
there is a smile
a curvaceous sometime
appeal come playful
that is apparent
in the light of day,
in a quiet darkness,
yet there is no one
causes me such
passion to want to please
then her,
when near me
I might again find her eyes
under a blue moon,
and together we could play
with the music of our lives.
How is it possible
that in a world of similar
being, pattern, lifestyle
that a singular moment
would create
such a yearn
that would swallow any other
massive audience of similarity,
so that this one
audience
would be our own
soft and passionate, our quiet,
our silent,
heart and soul.
It is she whom I cry for, I muse,
I lose my direction apart her mystique.
~ finding my way, a personal journey ~
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There Is A Beautiful Moon Tonight
Posted at 10:12 pm , on January 20, 2019
I’ve been looking all night,
the way the sky turns
a crystal clear arctic landscape,
a frozen anatomy of
our coldest time of year,
when one could walk naked into the element
and a soft smothering of hypothermia
might bring on a quiet
a slow departure falling into fantasy
the womb of mother nature
in safe and cradled arms
underneath the blue moon,
but time is of the essence
for the rage of night fall will bring upon us all
the wolf blood moon,
and that symbolic rage
would certain find our
lonely wander.
~ finding my way, a personal journey ~
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When I Opened My Twitter Feed Today
Posted at 11:13 am , on January 20, 2019
I found the usual – writings, commentaries, notions, desires, wants, reprimands, slams, wishes – every aspect of anything we might desire, hope for, imagine, fantasize. In recent weeks what speaks to me more is the beautiful sensuality of writers speaking from their hearts of loves, passions, needs, imagines.
I realized I want as much as everyone of the writers I follow, and then along with that I realized it is time for me to look at what is real in my own world. I love erotica, I love sensuality, I love the avenues this page and my twitter and other outlets have allowed me the avenue to speak to my own imagined desires. Yet there is something now in the reality of all of this fantasy.
It is difficult for me now to read of a beautiful person’s yearnings because I understand them, but not as much as I once did in the beauty of the moment, the reachable touch of desire inside the realm of drawing a visual of such intrigue. Today that sensuality is alone in my mind, the mystique of which, the yearning leaves me quiet.
I won’t post on Twitter for awhile, in fact, I probably won’t read that often because the majority of my follows are those beautiful artists of erotica and sensuality, and it just brings tears to my eyes because I cannot feel that and I need to not feel that. I have the sense of loss that I cannot fill and with every glance the reminder tells me that perhaps a sabbatical is a good idea.
I think soul-searching sucks sometimes. I understand its value. I realize the need. But in this writing today, it is obvious, I do not yet know where it is I am going. Taking smaller steps, shorter breaths, staying alive.
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