Monthly Archives: December 2010

Hi Def

I am a close-up,
in your face,
tears rolling down my
Hi Def cheeks,
my pores open for your
delectation: perhaps
you would like to see what
I had for lunch or
what became of it?

Age not withering?

I know we add up to over a hundred;
that I am the snowy side of grey and you are
artfully dyed;
that we both have more handles than
love can comfortably manage;
that some of love’s lexicon
is now Greek to us: but
don’t you, like I,
sometimes want to
get a room?

Your “friend”

If it is plastic, metal, glass,

or the end of a bottle;

even if it’s realistic,

with veins and all;

or much bigger than me;

if it’s humming makes you shiver;

black or green or putridly pink;

lasts all night or until the

batteries expire:

I don’t mind.

But if it’s rubber,

hot-water-filled and

clasped tightly to your bosom,

I hate it ‘til it hurts.

“Cheap Music”(Noel Coward)

We always want our adolescence back

to unmake, unprepare,

undecide our lives;

unkiss kisses– kiss deeper had we known;

dance as we should have, recklessly;

thought as we wanted, heedlessly;

loved as we ought, thoughtlessly.

We craved the false horizon of an alternate world

wherein anything could happen:

but it didn’t, so we listen and

leak tears in draughty kitchens to

other adolescences.


I am not stuck in traffic,

the traffic is stuck in me:

in my gut, an obstruction, the thing

people sigh about as they pass,

thankful to be gone, relieved

not to be the cause.


Fox made tracks,

figures of eight in fresh snow,

seeking to escape

winter’s blank hunger.

my controlled ascent

living and loving as a married submissive in my D/s marriage


A quoi servent les images que l'on ne montre pas ?


Written Thoughts, Spoken through verse...

Jupiter's Lair

Because a dirty mind is a terrible thing to waste...

A Quest for the Uncliche

Sharing my experiences of my quest for the uncliche, with the hope of learning more and inspiring some crazy soul in this overworked vacation deprived country..

Shreya Vikram

Blurring the lines between poetry and prose



Apollonia Saintclair

Ink is my Blood


Alla ricerca della scatola magica...

Diana Marin

Fine Art Photography, Poetry, Multimedia art, & Editorials

Rusted Honey

Poetry, haiku, tanka, and micropoetry