Endless Sky – An Intimate Encounter –

“I knew myself no longer. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my body; and a more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrilled every fibre of my frame.” – Edgar Allan Poe, The Black Cat 

shemakesdirty-wordssoundpretty

I lit the coals with yearning, 

deeper than times sand.

I stoke them with nature’s trinkets

Mischievous I take yourhand.

Tender violence my guide
Bringing you to passions door
The flames burn hot and long
We consummate the lore 

Fighting to feel not wanting to resist
Together in universal rhythm we tread 
Heat of friction driving your desire
Caught in throes, an endless sky our bed 

Tied with bonds of forbidden
Bringing creation to savor the burst,
I find you my sweet fragrance
Satiated with passions thirst.  

Scarlet silk creates your hidden visage
Tide of lust breaking ground in blurs
Flamed tongues burn hot and long
Embracing you a yearning stirs 

Air controlled by a strangled grip
Crashing through passions door
Leaving you shaking in pleasure
Gliding on weakened wings we soar

Pain creates a direction to edges new
When again on those heights we tread 
Let the torrid heat drive our desire high
Caught in throes, an endless sky our bed05152013

Related post: Holy Sanctum

Also published in Broowaha Magazine

First published in Opinionsofeye.com01262012 

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The Light…A Parable of Discovery

“It’s not easy to be Light when you’ve been Dark. It’s almost too much to ask anyone.” 

– Margaret Stohl, Beautiful Darkness

what2Blight

Waking up, where am I? No lights, dark, eyes need to adjust. Gotta get some light. Swinging my feet from the comfort of billowed quilts, I find the floor cold and uninviting. Standing, I feel out of place, hands outstretched, groping, grasping for the light. Shuffling my feet, one bold step to reach my goal, but stopped by a jolting pain…. my toe, I believe it broke, going sideways with a pop. With faltering steps now quickened by anger and pain, an intoxicating brew, I press forward, “Where is that damn light?” Determination slowly replaced pain, I’ll find that light. Thump! Stars, a bright flash, dark again. That bump on my head is crazily thumping, a cry of pain, actually a shout of agony, as my head and toe joined in a chorus, pain accompanied by my own thoughts of “stupid, stupid, damn where’s that light?” Tripping, I slap at the air which becomes a wall at half arch, then the wall becomes a switch and, sweet luck, my awkward and painful search had uncovered the light…now with full knowledge of my surroundings, I without injury, find the warmth of my bed, its comfort made all the sweeter by having found the light.

      

Sheets

“The cool kindliness of sheets, that soon smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss of blankets.” – Rupert Brooke

nicholaspadula

We succumb to the softly falling sheets, gently settling, as a billow of laughter touches our skin lightly at first, then, holding us in cool delight. Little is known of the heat born as the neatly lying cotton cage begins to twist and flip while we twirl beneath it. We give birth in our playful gathering to memories, touches that last and excite through the night, the dawn, and the new day and days. There is where our happiness finds a purchase, in wrinkled sheets lying on the bed’s corner, falling on the floor, leaving us to cover our nakedness with a dozen pillows that allow our satiated skin, still wet with the practice of secret pleasure, to peek out in childish delight. 

Also published in Broowaha

Love Again 2 –

I believe this fits the general theme of my blog and so I give you this poem, written by Philip Larkin. Enjoy.

Thomas Hawk

“Love again: wanking at ten past three
(Surely he’s taken her home by now?),
The bedroom hot as a bakery,
The drink gone dead, without showing how
To meet tomorrow, and afterwards,
And the usual pain, like dysentery.

Someone else feeling her breasts and cunt,
Someone else drowned in that lash-wide stare,
And me supposed to be ignorant,
Or find it funny, or not to care,
Even … but why put it into words?
Isolate rather this element

That spreads through other lives like a tree
And sways them on in a sort of sense
And say why it never worked for me.
Something to do with violence
A long way back, and wrong rewards,
And arrogant eternity.”

Bar Time – The way it is

“When I go to a bar, I don’t go looking for a girl who knows the capital of Maine.”  
– David Brenner

olavstubberud

11 pm – And the pressure is on

Feeling no pain, inhibition gone

12 am – The game is in full swing

All the preparation for this thing

1 am – Soon the last call is made

This spot beside me is up for trade

2 am – A challenge there she stands

One more drink in her hands

3 am – We share the passion bed

Our love we switch for pain instead

4 am – I lay awake with open eyes

Without the high there‘s no disguise

5 am – I’m stirring and flipping still

She awakes and tries to feel

6 am – I’m the victim of my crime

Following hard in bar time

Bottoming Out – Lonliness exsanguinates life

This poem was written by a talented fellow poet, Mark Davison and first seen in Elbow Lane Poems. Enjoy.

campusbasement

I am alone
This scenario is not freedom 

I see tiny glimpses of hope way over there
But now, here, at this moment, I see shards of me… cracked shards

I am angry and full of tears that well halfway up my throat
The tilt of my head and a desperate breath detain them

I am sad
Sad that I am not happy and that my heart is redundant of it’s secondary duty

Intermittently it flickers into life
Abruptly ending; but just doing enough to?

To what?
Existence can be an exhausting burden

While I happily slept
My soul got took, my mind too

Which means I’ve lost my soul and lost my heart and lost my mind
Pointless looking currently

I am alone
The new ‘single’ me scares people!

Flamboyantly shy, aggressively meek
And ferociously gentle in bed

I ride the conflicting reports and assessments of me like a surfer
Wave after wave me goodbye

I am lost
Confusion is my compass and desperation is my map

Folded pieces of paper in my room partner empty wine bottles
I’ve got nothing else

Comfort I suppose but that’s cold
In fact that insults my own stupid intelligence  

The child that smacks it‘s parent and sends it to bed I laugh

My smile is now a faltering grimace
Plastering my anguished screams and voiceless cries

I am alone
And the weight of that compresses me into a thin nothingness

I am alone
And I’m bottoming out   

– Mark Davison 7/3/2012