NSFW – Adults Only Please – My goal with this page constantly evolves – there was a time when all I wanted was to pique a woman's interest in the hope we connect through writing, dialogue … today, with all of the wonderful inspiration I've received, my need is to further my respect and intrigue in the sensual nature of 'woman' in all of her grace and elegance. I do hope you might enjoy!

Posts tagged “human condition

Feeling Isolation


It is sometimes not a choice,

this element of a stationary hold

on moving forward.

A desire, a passion, a sense of drive,

suddenly sedentary,

asking for little in return,

yet the payoff is frightening.

 

While standing in the middle of a storm,

sometimes wishing to be caught,

whisked away like a piece of dust,

no longer apparent,

just a brief tug on someone’s imagination,

maybe nostalgic,

a sweet reminder

of a different time.

 

How often is it they never really knew,

the leftovers,

a salad with every favorite spice,

and yet

the element of taste

is its final departure.

 

When long ago,

I first gained consciousness,

I remember this immediate sadness,

I cried for many hours,

holding on to a memory,

a lasting storyline

that after awhile,

rather soon really,

it bored my closest allies,

or so they seemed,

and I had to let it go,

yet we all know love always returns.

 

I suppose if I let the notes continue to

dance upon the keyboard,

I might suddenly realize,

perhaps soon enough,

or maybe …

there is a purpose in feeling,

in responding to the emotional drain,

in gathering strength,

in overcoming.

See this is the apparent flaw,

that part that only wishes to dull the pain.

Where is that urgency

to step up the dopamine.


The Impact in Interaction


It may seem a likely response,

two people,

when there seems a purpose,

that mutual attraction

we all breathe to yearn, and yet some,

might push the envelope.

 

Such energy is not the case,

when in her eyes, I see a dimension,

this parallel universe,

so easily imagined,

yet powerful in a quiet impact,

that allows years to suddenly

fly beyond our initial interaction.

 

I speak of no impulse, only ready kindness

such impressive grace,

that to imagine otherwise,

would seem only fantasy,

yet in her,

there is a reality in her soft

caress, the nature of love.

 

I wish sometimes I might

answer the questions,

the curiosity drives my mind,

I wish that before an eventual

fall inside the rocks of derision,

we might float above,

let our energy escape

the travesty of confusion.

 

We might easily define ourselves,

in a simple manner,

to acknowledge

the human condition,

is to dissuade any notion

of natural consequence.

 

There is a certain lightness in the air,

when I do accept the circumstance of her.


Reminders of Altered States


I remember now,

how I laughed and cried,

and eventually tried

to see the end of a long

narrow scope,

one that did not contain anyone

to measure true elegance.

 

I recall yet, still,

in the absurdity of reason,

wondering how to fill a void

beyond this energy,

her energy,

knowing yet even still,

I had no reason to be wishing so.

 

We form unions,

when we do,

we carefully decide upon choice,

and yet,

there is that piece, that part of

ourselves,

the skeptic, the wanderer, the

romantic,

seems always to wonder.

 

Is it lust,

that calls upon our definition

of love,

so powerful we with willing,

create difficult scenarios,

the sort they make movies about,

write epic literary rendezvous,

with names like Fitzgerald,

Nin, Yves, Chopin, even Oates is real.

 

I once knew a woman,

whom when shadows failed,

the strict sunlight of an opaque desert,

called me forward,

and with each grain of sand I might encounter,

I could clearly see,

no reminder, no parallel,

no one would ever come close,

in the affirming nature of

serendipity,

I came to realize truth

is a lovely complexity.


Pieces of Me


I have left different pieces,

a heartbreak here,

oh sure a typical fare,

a part of my soul belongs over there,

and somehow along the way,

I always discover another day.

 

There is this mountain top,

oh not the ‘free at last’ memoir,

you say,

yet, it is a place where I recall,

I left many pieces of me there that day,

having since noticed it to be paved away.

 

I can grasp the reality of my way,

only as one would suggest,

when all of my chakra’ point a similar way,

that is the truth,

a place where seldom might I hide,

the easily swayed part of me I’d say.

 

I fell in love with her this way,

a manner I’d speak of only with she,

while eyes would take me to new regions,

well beyond the hilltop, inside a forest

one might imply,

is the only place a wild remote may stay.

 

Those pieces of my life,

I’d sometime rather not say,

would help define the whole of me today,

if only I could ever balance,

ever discover that natural breeze,

helps cool the rage remains when run astray.

 

 


Thinking About This


I often wonder about notions,

an idea, plays out in my head,

I formulate my own opinion,

a funny sort of discrete decision.

 

Not yet, my mind tells me,

not ready to share with anyone else,

and there begins the battle,

because I do,

I so want to,

there’s a part of me that wants to free the world,

my world I suppose,

actually, our world,

because I think, wait a second, I mean,

we all seem to … have a want;

so that everyone around me will know

what’s in my head,

what I’m imagining,

 

Thinking about this.


Clueless Agony


On the horizon, a wall looms,

we reach inside for garden tools,

protect the hibiscus, secure the lawn

decorations – that peace of mind.

What happens next,

we cannot control,

yet why is it in our own lives,

that survival, is all we try to do,

mask the insecurity so no one might know,

deep inside we are as

frail to the notion of real as is the vine

sudden storm clouds will rip apart.

Nature always wins,

despite the efforts of many,

to hide the furthest

indication of that surreal

slide.

 


Cafe Dreamers


There’s a rain steady,

keeping indoors the traveler

whom might be seeking the wood,

may stroll along the coast,

skipping rocks, switching thoughts,

contemplating the beauty around them,

instead,

the coffee shop,

holds promise to the conversations

around that though similar, seem different,

contain stories all the same,

yet unique,

their worlds are always different,

in the context of their moments,

until we can catch each other’s eyes.

 

We wonder about the people next door,

a table nearby our own private world,

did they speak of it,

were they aware,

was there a time in their lives when everything,

seemed similar, possible, simple,

perhaps it is true,

they say it often enough to never forget,

we’re all the same,

we haven’t any lead on the element of change

the human condition might experience the same,

euphoric wonder built upon manifest tragedy.

 

I was sitting along with my company,

my world against hers,

together we were watching our own world,

responding to the elements in a unique fashion,

yet still, very still, almost

in a sort of decopaged setting,

still life,

to be measured in someone else’s eyes,

for they are the judge of this life,

not us,

we are simply the portrait.

 

A stillness in the air,

while we wait the rains,

they might part to give allowance

to nature’s Grace in the wooded freedom

of a dense forest,

away from all wander of deception.

 

While I stood inside the sidewalk cafe,

I watched the people around me,

create lives of envy,

to balance those of misfortune,

whose measure relied upon me,

or my own eyes, or their’s or someone

nearby,

with similar passion.

 

Yet in all of our sightings,

there seems only one reality.