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• If nothing else in this life I will always find the poetry in things.. I will find it in the rare quiet too early morning and the pattern of the wooden table where I sit and have my coffee. In my little boy still sleeping, his golden hair laid across the pillow like a…
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• it always hurtstodayand yesterdayall the days in this hazeand especially when they sayI must rememberas if I needed a reminder but if I’m telling the truththe red and the white and the blueI am ashamed to saysometimes it just looks like bloodstainsthe kind you can’t wash outand on this day it is everywhereevery screenand…
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Do not return here with longing rattling in the place where a heart once hung…With readiness finally on your lying lips.Do not look for me when you have sowed your wild oats and regret leads you to a place you once wanted to call home.When every night feels like winter and time no longer treats…
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God and good have led meon many occasions..but the Devil took me to placesso darkso desolateforcing me to understandwhy the light inside memust always prevail the blood& the bones
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I miss my Mother and as the day comes to celebrate her, I am still nursing a wound only 6 months old. One I know will never heal ..hoping a day will come when it is not aching in this way. When her absence is not so obvious. And the finality of death does not…
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• It’s the way his fingers slide in between my quivering limbs and then ever so gracefully to the place where I can taste the mingling of him and me. He wants me to experience everything. Every taste and touch.. every bit of gentle and every bit of rough We explore and explode together and…
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thank you for holding me so intently, sirwith earnest and eager purposewhether it is with gentle handsor when I require you to be unyieldingyou always guide me to what we both need the blood& the bones
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this pleasurethis painhe gives to meand hetakes away in wavesin waves euphoriaall the sameon the razor’s edgeon rapture’s ledgei will obey i am at his mercy the blood& the bones
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• it was not death that took himbut as I lay here next to cold sheetsforgetting what his voice sounded likeor the way his face still seemed youthfulbefore that first deploymentand the places his hands bruised bestwhen he returnedit might as well have beenbut he’s out there runningriding a wave of paindrowning in the warmth…
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it is no secretthat life has made you rigid and complexbattle scarred men often areand happiness has made a used to be of meas far as I’m concernedbut there’s a placewhere you are not scared to be gentleand I am not scared to be lovedmeet me therebefore it’s gone the blood& the bones
The Blood & The Bones 