Tag Archives: relationships

Berlin Bed

The bed was such a world once: of

sweat and semen and the

wonderful effusions of

womanhood; of strain and stains;

contortions and cramps;

saliva and stamina;

sticky bodies entwined in

sated exhaustion.

 

But now the moonlit room

sits still: no moans or

groans of pleasure; no

pillow-muffled screams;

just the sullen

shriek of silence, the

Berlin Wall of blunt knees and

sharp elbows.

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Guilted Youth

Your third (golden) eye flashed

from somewhere near the back of the van,

amidst the jumbled bodies happily

jounced by bad roads.

We’d loved the new band we’d been to see

–Roxy Music, their first tour–

and the thrill of that unexpected sound

fizzed in us like champagne:

it must have gone to my head to remove

my timidity so, make me crawl

awkwardly across that crowded space,

the cast on my wrist spectral in streetlight.

That drunken post-pub football match

on floodlit New Brighton prom;

that outrageous tackle; sailing

slow-motion through the night sky;

my hand meeting summer-dry earth;

a clean snap and a denial

–I’m OK! I’ll go in goal!

Why did I go in goal?

Parrying shot after shot with a

rictus of pain and a swelling which,

after the long walk home,

even I couldn’t deny.

I dreaded you saying something,

I felt so gauche and full of disability but your

smile was as open as your arms:

“O Finn, you found me!”

The kiss we shared was troubled

neither by my cast nor my evident erection,

nor by your unbeautiful beauty,

nor by our pitiful youth.

The trouble was I wanted you too much and you

didn’t want to be wanted so

–not then, anyway: maybe later

when you’d lived a bit more.

But you didn’t live and I

didn’t learn.

Extreme of Consciousness

I wonder what will o’the wisps will

grace my last extreme of consciousness?

My mother’s breast, or the

push against for a day

playing on a birchen hill?

A first kiss? But which one?

Whose? That virginal,

immediate, desperate one or

that which reconciled life?

The first fathomless stare of a

newborn? Or the sly complicit

smile of the grown child? That

first tentative touch? The satiation of

good sex? The hand grasped in

night’s desires and terrors? That last

damnable disagreement?

Will you mind if my

mind wanders back to my

first kiss or rolling down a

birchen hill or my

mother’s breast?

Cellophane Heart

Where is the tab? the bit that

unpeals the wrapper?

Are my fingers too

big and clumsy to find it?

Or have you sealed it, so that I can’t

sully the substance

of your immaculately

cellophaned heart?

New Music

You complain that my music is

too loud, too discordant, too

new, implying that I am an

old fool fumbling to stay hip,

whilst you embalm yourself in the

music of your youth where you are still

golden, naked and available with

none of our history ahead of you.

Modern Love

Thought is clouded by a few drinks and the

intoxicating scent of a woman but

 

Thought stops an impulse

thinking it impolite

 

Thought discourages touch

tells hands not to wander

 

Thought stays a kiss

just short of the mouth

 

Thought wonders whether “Yes” is meant

wonders what tomorrow might bring so

 

Thought pushes body away to

neither soul’s satisfaction

 

 

Date

To date one must be

open and honest but

to date you have been

neither.

New Old Words

Words millenia old still send

shards through your skin yet

soft words spoken seconds ago

vanish as though never said.

Make-Up Remover

The face you wore tonight is now

smeared on my sheets, my

pillow, my face, and your

parloured hair is decidedly

unkempt, your sleepy eyes

between locks accepting this

new openness, this

new nakedness.

Little Women Making Loud Noises

I’m not sure Ms. Alcott had

this in mind but I love

loud women in my life,

singing their songs full-throated,

spearing their words through

vain assumptions,

shaking pulpit and

parliament and shouting

“harder, faster” into my

receptive ear.

Turning the Lights Off

Random musings inside my head no matter how hard I try to shut the damn lights off

Southern Georgia Bunny

Adventures of an Southern Bunny everything from dating, sex, life and shake your head moments.

Secret Dates Diary

Secret Dates Diary of Anne Regina

Hannah likes dirty words

Writing, extracts, pleas to buy my books, the odd essay.

word and silence

Poetry, History, Mythology

The Cat's Write

Milly Schmidt

ELLEGUYENCE

New content every Sunday

Love Hate Sex Cake

Musings on a Libidinous Life

Krystal Minx

My Colorful Life as a Bisexual Minx…real life tales with the man I love, and our fun-filled shared playmates…and all things about being the woman that finally discovered how to be ME and what LIVING LIFE is all about <3

R. A. Douglas

Dream big! Live bigger!

burning ambulance

a journal of arts and culture

The Used Life

Experiments in the Art of Mastering None

365 dni w obiektywie LG

365 days a lens LG