poetry

C[older] / C[oo]l{er} / H[eat]

Age does not pre-

clued the abil-

i-

tie to connect and love and sex-

u-

allies attract, as large holds neck

your beautiful shuddering length

s-

sssh which stripe my sex up and own

like that age-old stick of holiday

rock licked and tongued lon-

gingly, Lon-

donly, aim-

less-

lying beside you and spurt-

in-

gasping squirts of em-

bracing seaside greys and air-

ings: cup-

boarding-

houses and

boarding

planes to strange desti-

nations and states of mind-

less and mind-

ful ex-

stasis: civil con-

flix of balan-

ced and unsaid equilibriums,

where cinema reel un-

spools internation-

ally the coming together of an en-

tyre community of the good:

a rubber Johnny Doe of the uncomm-

on man and woman.

 

 

And how I love yous, dear women,

and dear men

and dear children for this

love: if I am worthy of a tougher

kind of love in the name

I proclaim,

not disdain,

not re-

jecture in con-

jecture where a prior bad faith does

proceed to seed at last all my futures

with good deeds …

 

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short short story

Independence day

The universe spoke.  It was time to ignore the attractions of the past and look to a future, which somewhere might exist.

Memories were just memories: it was so clear by now.  The only real people he could rely on today, the only people who understood his place, the only people who might wish to help out … were the people he all was – and no one else.

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poetry

Be troo / Be too / Be yoo

 

I was a sad little man in ambition and

fact.

I struggled to express myself in physical

form.

I did have goals and aims –

objectives quite clear.

But my mode of operation appeared

lackadaisically un

dear.  As if I didn’t care or know

what I was doing: yet I did, I promise

you.

My responsibility to offspring and

spouse weighed heavily on

my being.

My sense of in-

te-

gritty led me to struggle against

coffee-

plagued meet-ups which

meant me to abandon

them to their own devices and

gadgets and ameliorations of

superficial society.

But I couldn’t see this happen: I loved

them too much.

My prime directive, as if programmed

by corps, was to do what I could do

to lead them to the independence I knew

they could battle with and take

onboard ship-

wise as if embarking on high-

sea-

d ingenuity to different country and

continent.

And all I’ve ever desired for them

all is the independence I desired

for myself.

Does that make me a selfish being?

Does that make me self-

interested and un-

kindly in my winding road?

Or does it, maybe, allow me now

to see that winding road

goes else-

where the sacrifice no longer needs

making?

 

Yes, I want my clever duplicities but

still do wish to be troo.

I want my independence but

not from yoo.

And I want to be me in everything

I might, but never with yoo

out of my sight.

 

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