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 “people

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.

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,


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


with similar passion.


Yet in all of our sightings,

there seems only one reality.

Watching Traffic


As a young boy, he in the picture window,

would watch the trails of evening glow,

often wander in his mind upon a scene

unbeknownst to his fairy tale he’d glean

a story time, a response to travelers whim

that only resonated deep inside of him.


Oh to take away this permanence he’d feel

to understand such whirring of the wheel,

if by the instance of time in perpetual motion

he somehow be compelled to feel emotion

might then a pleasing notion allow a release

his frame to transport the window sill to peace.


Sitting by windows watching worlds rewind

their earlier response to the gradual mind.

We all might pause to wait upon a fantasy

whereby that love we seek may suddenly see

Oh to know the beauty of time’s recognition

when caught inside our dream’s elation.


Inside the glass will always remain a chance

recall of beauty’s elegance, her eyes enhance.

Smitten Surreal

It was just the other day,

I was a different sort of man,

by the end of the day.

I’ve always wanted you,

figured I might out of the blue

have you just the way I may.

It was just the other day,

I discovered a newer reality

I was lost in an ego drift.


When my notions of a woman of spectacular


caresses my mind any moment, every time,

I shudder to imagine,

just how beautiful she can be,

when she is away from me.

I wonder sometimes if that same

wandering soul could remain

as static as the time of day.


Things change, if I may,

I do have the same heart throbbing

desire for the beauty of you,

yet I cannot simply have my way,

without a favorable sashay sway.

I do get that, I really do.

In coming to terms,

I now take a pause

to imagine what affirms

my desire is my own only.

I sometimes have to realize

accentuating beauty, your elegance,

is a sojourn for the wise,

that gentleman of candor and chance.


So if I may,

I’d like to say farewell today,

to any particular manner obtuse,

that reflects upon an objective stare.

I can continue to love the beauty of you,

relish, dream, wanton passion extreme.

You do send me for a twirl anyhow, way,


It was just the other day,

today …

Having Peace

I have this life I share with

names really,

some have actually become


I’d like to think all of them together

co-existing wherever

hearts lead them are involved

in the beauty of teaching me

human nature.

I do love you that is true,

in every essence of who you are,

when I close my eyes and imagine just beauty,

as a graceful step, the very nature of true

elegance when,

while in my fantasy,

your eyes do pierce my mind freeing me of such

earthly burdens as are vanity.

I want you to stay in my dreams,

don’t go far, because if in a moment I stray,

I have lost you again,


We Might Gather


I did see you,

everyday I would ride my bicycle,

just nearby,

always your eyes

trail me passing you by,

how often did I want to say hello,

so many conversations,

everyone is busy,

making their lives in front of the coffee house,

we all go there,

each will look like her behind the glass,

laughter with friends,

safe and out of the reach of HIS ignorance,

we are beautiful in our chuckles,

in our look inside,

crossed legs examine the comfort of a summer’s day,

and yet

my coffee waits inside,

if ever I find the courage

to walk slow past her lovely eyes.

She’s waiting,

she knows,

if only I could possibly understand just how well

she knows


*photo credit – tumblr.

I Can’t Touch You, But I Love …

I struggle to know,

what is right from wrong,

when it is I know there is love,

there is a memory of need to share

what we both believe began our journey



I swell as easily into society’s trappings

as the next fallen victim,

that sir, a madam, that genuine spirit

once before,

knew the treasure of delight in passion.

Now today, a cloudy day becomes a regular

reality in that visual palette of survival.


I wonder why when I do reach,

the hands that create passion,

I hope might begin their return,

stay at bay,

wait again for some moment of indecision,

a perhaps metal wall

capable of no interference.


I remember when

eyes would speak a loud

until the words no longer need


only our writhing embrace

would carry out that lead,

while animals enhance sensuality