( this for beauty in inspiration )
if notions speak a loud,
a sweet glance
an internal fire
wait in patient lullaby
while all around wise would
just your sweet touch
is where I wish to watch you move me
while a tear
spreads throughout my eye
the damp surreal
desire is where I want to be
trace your world
inside of me.
if she held on a bit longer,
I could convince her,
if she let me touch her heart,
I would next believe she might,
we all do think that I suppose,
certainly when the need arises,
when no longer do we have that opportunity,
when out of reach
we had our lives mapped out together,
we could break each other’s hearts
beaten down by the ruthless nature of love,
we wanted more,
I just couldn’t stand to wait any longer,
yet I’d forgotten,
that you could,
you told me you would,
and I listened.
I want you to know,
i haven’t forgotten,
I haven’t tried to pretend
I haven’t allowed forgiveness,
I haven’t sought entitlement,
I haven’t found solace
I haven’t begun to know,
I haven’t recognized hurt,
I still wish to understand,
just how simple my destruction
could be on another life
without regard for whom they are,
or wish to become,
perhaps wanting to walk away from
certainly not newly gained,
certainly not a revelation
certainly not sudden affirmation
certainly without conscience.
Yet today I find myself reeling
wanting to somehow find an
easier path through the density
of a man’s quest existence.
Yet today, I only wish I might
convince all of the eyes,
the ears, the sensual response,
to understand I will never forget
the early days …
I have to remember …
Even when my eyes stop straying,
when I cease the un
when our world becomes tame,
we just look upon
Even in those very simple moments,
isn’t the goal toward disrobing
when only the beauty of your grace
even when you smile,
and it is not an indication of a
even when it is
when all I might imagine,
is un –
you in a dimly lit
becomes my interlude.
I think you are beautiful.
I deserve nothing.
She can give me the world
I own nothing
That she might offer me
Is not an automatic
While gaze strikes me blind
Inside internal fire
Quiet magic in that ever menacing
I require only
Her forgiveness if willing,
Little bearing on outcomes.
If I choose to be aggressive,
Only on her terms,
Just holding me might suffice,
Know you are only my world.
We can sacrifice our lust,
With a sweet exchange
Hold strength when
Notice rather than avert
Attention to detail.
She will be only remarkable
When we together recognize
Rather than regarding only
Of property we could never imagine
Woman is a gift
Her sojourn can only evolve
In a respectful society.
When next you decide to hurt,
Step back for a minute,
Look with real eyes
Who could really suggest truly?
Man is …
I want to indicate provocative,
words to fire the soul,
to replicate desires when shared,
feel the lotion of nature’s hands
sweep across delicious naked skin.
Is that not like laying in damp spoils
of a rain soaked day,
the mud clean and slippery,
dancing across our bodies
like that living bath of sensuality.
I want while she listens,
to understand just how I might
offer her peace from the confusion,
the gender chaos of a man’s liberty,
or lack of understanding,
in motion a growing response,
to our failure to allow her individuality
to produce beauty and elegance
without the promise of consummation.
Within the reality of that understanding,
I am confident we might find Nature’s truth
While the evening sky begins to settle upon the day’s action,
can the outcome be measured in pleasure or tragedy?
How often might that exterior look be welcome enough
to keep the internal demons safely in check?
When at the end of the day I do try to measure my focus,
I wonder sometimes if I am lost or perhaps finally found.
When I speak to you directly, your eyes may roll,
yet, I know that she or he in another place felt soul.
I’ll always keep this part of me safely tucked away
until one day when the world can see the same I might
then begin to ask for your forgiveness, or perhaps acceptance
so very difficult to know when our judgment is left to our own,
when distant shadows of fear create some divide we maintain,
with averted eyes, and smiles that seem to explain otherwise.
I’m listening to a little jazz now, and visualizing the room,
how many of their eyes, laid back, swaying, feeling that groove,
when will the spell be broken and their lives again under measure,
for now I’d rather the solo remain strong, never ceasing to let me go.