Excerpt for The Devotional Rj Williams Poems by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

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The Stinging Gift

Part of my voice
Lost so many years ago
Returned to express
And the frustration
Of the unrequited
The feelings never felt
By a person blessed
To have known so little
Of either
The stinging gift
Of not always getting
What you crave

Writing Again

The ironic nature
Of things
In this moment
Drawing breaths
Is not lost on me
In almost 9 years
As I labored under the illusion
That I was loved
Above all
Convinced of being
Good enough
At last
For brief moments
At least
Before being reminded
Of all I lacked
My pen 
Could find no ink
Not to love
Or hate
Or question those things
Blatantly obvious to others
Now here
In this space
Where ambiguity defines
My every thought
Where I am uncertain
Of what space I occupy
And mind you these words
Are mildly placed
My pen will not cease writing
Perhaps it is
The depth of feeling
In my heart
That causes words to flow
His beauty
Or the longing I feel
Spilling onto page
The fact that
In a lifetime
I've never had this sensation
Of uncertainty
Men most often easily managed
I the dictator
In my microcosmic fiefdom
Perhaps it is the injustice
A railing against the universes
For granting me this depth of feeling
Blanketed in dubious robes
Whatever it is
It makes the muse
Favor me
And out of fear
That this fickle goddess
Will abandon me
I will go on
Speaking no more
Of feeling
Except here 
On the page


Left the box
It's all spilling out
Years of it
Onto the floor
It's mess both unseemly
And beautiful
An avalanche of words
Tripping over it
In three inch heels
Red faced
Look around
Hoping no one
Is the wiser
Blush on my cheek
A welling of emotion
I'm trying in vain
To contain

End of an Era

Games are things
I used to revel
In the chase
Things without definition
Unspoken love
Or hatred
But the sands
Are slipping by quickly
In my hourglass
Days I want to fill
With peace
In love
Enough time has passed
In misery
For me to know
I have no space
For them 
I choose
To seek

Recipe in Progress

It was in
A movement you made
When you held me 
Last night
The memory it contained
Came flooding back
The school girl crush 
Why I felt
What I felt
Why I feel
What I feel
Becoming a mildly sweet mixture
New dish
Makes the mouth water
In anticipation
Then leaves the wanting
Hunger only mildly


Some writers love fiction
A carefully crafted woman 
To share their lives with
In the small hours of night
When shadows distort
The shape of the tangible
I am too real for him
Flesh and bone
Hot breath waiting for things
That will never find material form
He is a fiction
I have created
Moving through my hands
The ending written 
Long before our story began

Unknown Crime

There is nothing
But bee sting silence
On the other end
Of the line
No consideration given
For the allergy developed
At my mother's feet
Causing swollen eyes
A closing of the throat
Pounding in chest
The sense that
I have committed
An offense so heinous
Words do not exist
To describe the fury
It has created
I who am always seeking solutions
In words written
Left only with pen
To scribe apologies
For an offense
Whose origins
Are uncertain


It washes over me
The sadness of knowing
His anger burning too brightly
To see me
Words drifting in the universe
Looking to light
On the wings of devils
A thousand curses seeking
To be realized

I Am Reconciled

I am a fan
Placated with words
That have no true ring
Of amorous tones
I lie
To myself
That maybe their meanings
Differ somehow
When they cross his lips
But in truth
There is no fire for me
That is visible
And I wait
For a space in time
That most likely
Doesn't exist
In this time
And space
That moment
When I am adored
As I adore him

All Powerful Gaia

It was a thought I had
Perhaps misguided
A mechanism to defend self
Against the agony
Of ages
An illusion of control
I tried to manifest
In thought and deed
But nothing can be managed
Winds cannot be shifted
By strength of breath
Sun will rise 
The earth will turn
Even during nuclear winters
Gaia holds her sway
In all things
Her creation
A force
Moves freely
By her whim
As well


There are parts of me
I want to show
I want known
By him
I hold them close now
Pretending they don't exist
Hidden beneath 
A jovial smile
Lyrical sonance
Thinking always 
Of how to acquaint him
With the rest
Of me
Those parts
Not suited
For prime time
But long to share with him
As they may be
By best sides


There are parts of me
I want to show
I want known
I hold them close now
Pretending they don't exist
Hidden beneath 
A jovial smile
Lyrical sonance
Thinking always 
Of how to acquaint him
With the rest
Of me
Those parts
Not suited
For prime time
Long hidden
In fear 
And longing
Those things
I want most
To manifest
In the spaces
We occupy


A game
I'm choosing to play
Stakes high
Ante raises
With each encounter
Word spoken touch exchanged
A maddening tit for tat
Unsure how much to show
Or hide
He always coy
Never letting me know
Where I stand
How far I should fall
So for now he knows
Only that I've fallen
But I'll never show
All my cards

Universal Love

In love
There is no room for self
No door should be closed
No request made an impossibility
Time should melt away
And any prejudices set aside
Your heart should feel
Their pain
Respond to longing
A tangible ache felt
To mold reality
As closely as possible
To your loved one's desires
An abandon in the way you give
To them
And the fear that you won't be well received
Because even if they despise
What you do
Who you are
The universe will take that love
And some day
Return it
To you


He lingers always
Measured steps through my mind
That he is unaware of
Sometimes I meet him
On checker board floors
To dance steps
I always trying to follow
His lead
Tripping over my own feet
My coordination always lacking
In his presence
My usual grace of motion
A lost muscle memory
I usually smooth
Room temperature butter
On hot toast
Not so with him
Flutters of a teenage heart
Tripping over my words
In 5 inch heels
Running words 
Through my mind
The flicker of an 8mm film making 
Fate of all things
A beautiful distortion


searching for a space
where heart is numb
trying to see through the same lenses
they see me through
a glass of indifference
to distort longing
all evidence of caring
a blurry mist
that keeps heart
from the unpleasantness
of emotion

One Sided Coin

it is a head
lacking tail
a coin 
with one side
the thoughts
of one
always on display 
the other nothing but a vacancy
a constant reminder
of emptiness
the things sorely lacking
in heart
a hideous display of a void
that will never be filled


I was a young woman
When i first started waiting
Staring at the phone
On the wall
With a cord
Which for the longest time couldn't tell you
Who it was
At the end of the line
That moment when heart would quicken
When it was the he
You were waiting for
Now bubbles with pictures
Show whose thoughts
Have turned to you
And you wait for a he
To say things never said before
And people to buy things
You have no use of
And to care for the things
You no longer can
The silence between
Still maddening
Filled with anxiety filled motions
Those ticks
That can drive those you love
As so many movements
Often do


I wish he stank
That when he drew near
My gag reflex would cause a dry heave
That the smell would permeate all he touched
That the residual stench he left behind
Was intolerable
That he lacked a sense of the ironic
Just another potato in the bag
And didn't make me laugh until I cry
At some point
In almost every conversation
That he painted with the skill of me
As a child
That his brushstrokes didn't speak
An exquisite language all their own
That he'd never picked up a guitar
That the style and substance
Of his playing
Didn't strike chords 
Deep within me
That his intellect 
Mimicked that
Of every other man I've known
And he lacked intelligence
Or that there was some imperfection 
I could hang on to
That would help me keep 
One foot out the door
As my nature usually dictates
Something that would slow heart's rhythm
When he walked into a room
A feeling
Like putting on wet jeans
To someone who's always in fear
If in fact
I was
Unfortunately he smells 
Way too good
And it does linger


Shadows of the first kiss
The one given 
Long ago
Sixth grade 
Someone's room
A boy I knew
Who kissed many others
I held no distinction for him
He none for me
Save being the first
The only one
Who wanted to
Kiss me
I awkward
But that was long ago
And many happened
In its shade
None of any true importance
Just repetitions
Of the same motions
Some fluid
Some awkward
I wait for the one
I want more than any
I know
Many wait for mine
Even though
So many years have passed
A Line of faces
That again hold no distinction
For me
My heart is held
In hands 
Belonging to 
A man
Who is nothing but
Stands out above others
In all ways
So I wait
As the shadow he casts
Is too dark 
For anyone else
To be seen
Outside it


He walks through my thoughts
Soft steps
A quiet presence
The things he left
Stirring memory
Scents linger
In his absence
The resonating tones
Of his voice
Still heard in this space
The laughter he creates
Still lifting my heart
His calming aura
Always dwelling

For All Us Real Women

It's not enough
To have to compete with
Size 0
34 double ds
Plastic faces
Posted on all we see
A reminder
Of all real women aren't
Those of us
Not blessed with fabricated
Photo shopped 
Have to compete
With carefully crafted glitches
In the machine
Women fictionalized
To match a man's
Every desire
Never seen in person
Headshots filtered
So her body
And real face
Are never scrutinized
She coincidentally interested
In all the same things
The object
Is on his page
She can be younger
Her profile says so
Long raven hair
Or sultry blonde
Whatever he prefers
Can keep hours of conversation going
And never need a retouch
Monthly blemishes
Never her problem
Her dinner never burned
Sugar never poured instead of salt
Never sweaty
Wracked with pain
Her eyes never show her sorrow
Or disappointment
She has no real needs
Except to be
All he wants
And real women
Whose interests
Cup size
And overall demeanor
Are not perfectly
A match
Are simply fucked


His movements
Through my thoughts
Within dreams
Steps without effort
Across my mind
A purposeful stroll

Notes coming
From any strings he touches
A soothing he does not intend
Brought to my soul
Stroking fevered mind
Quickening heartbeat
Heating body

Words he writes
Canvases he paints
Bringing endless images
Snapshots into his world
Surreal beauty
Those treasured moments
I see the world
Through his fantastic lens

His speech always measured
Words never stained
With the tint of bitterness
Always finding ways
To bring me to euphoria
A candied sweetness
To him always
A taste to be savored

Sex at the Library

Met him
At the library
To read poetry
Or something like that
Back room
Meant for studying
Or something like that
Smell of books wafting
In temperature controlled air 
Fortuitous lock on the door
As we began the reading
At first orally...tongues tripping over
The language of each other
New syllables spoken
Familiarity increasing
With time
As our voices rose
Linguistic passion
Expressed in a fever
That we might cause
Unintended disruption 
In the thoughts of others
We began to read
More silently 
In whispers
Mouth to ear
To mouth to ear
The rhythm of the piece
Causing synchronous
Until the story 
Or poem
Or...what was it
Reached its climax
An unexpected plot twist
Leaving both readers
Wanting more

What Do You Call a Male Muse

A muse 
Of atypical gender 
The masculine drop 
In a pool of the feminine
Came to me
Months ago
Pure sprit
Entered the space 
Hidden in deep the recesses
Of the dungeons 
Mind creates
After self has been desolated
Cells created to suppress anything
That may lead
To relapse
He drew out the she
Carelessly chained
Long ago
By fear
And the desperate need
Of sober breath
It was his kiss
That renewed voice
Old appetites long forgotten
Now she has become
A monster of sorts
The Phoenix
All love
One who speaks
With little care
When silence
Would be preferred
He can only marvel
Teeth clenched
At what he has released

Drs Visit

I don't think
The surgeon intended
To cut as deep
As he did
I'm sure ordinarily
His lacerations
Are executed
More precisely
Than this
But he tore through flesh
Hit bone
With a jagged scalpel
My anesthetic
Had long since
Ceased to be effective
I felt every inch
Of his knife
Not the deep aching feeling
I crave
Wound left open
Now festering
Exquisite in its agony
The expectation being
A healing
Of miraculous proportions
The fiction
A doctor sells
To the desperate
And maimed

Yet Again

My mind
Is constantly preoccupied
With thoughts of him
Often eluding me
He runs freely 
Through those spaces
Blue shoed
Lives there
Occasional verse
May wind around him
Sometimes bringing 
Saltwater drops
Most often a smile
But he is always there
In all his forms

Cold Drink

The line was drawn
Some time ago
An impassable barrier
My imaginings left
Somewhere on the other side
Things I'll never try
To retrieve
A shaken not stirred mixture
Of fear and pride
Poured over rocks
In a tall glass
The tonic
That keeps me
On this side
Of ardency's affliction


I always fight
With the self
That feels
And the one that thinks
The emotional
Pure love
And desire
Holds you near
Her heart quickens
At bubbles
And the loud odd ring
Of your calls
Hangs on words written
With a grip
That is difficult
For the thinker
To break
The rational
The protective
Is watching you
And her
Making sure
Neither of you
Dances too close
Or looks too long
Thank God she's in bed
By 10

Unicorns, Nessie, Love and other Myths

Today I was pressed
To explain
Certain cynical undertones
In my voice
When discussing
The urban legend
Of soulmates
And true love
Accused of
Syrupy cynicism
At the mention of the topic
But the truth
Lies far from that
I feel the pull
Of this mythical creature 
Every time
I look at him
Hear his voice
Smell the resonant cologne
I recognize though that
Perfection in these matters
Is the fiction 
We are sold
That feelings are often
And fleeting 
That the way it is constructed
In fairy tales
And song
Is too simplistic in its nature
The reality is work
And it is here 
Where my thoughts converge now
My romantic nature
Still dwells within though
And believes
In what can be
Locks herself
In the tower 
And waits

Things New

It is in
The ways
He speaks
Conveys emotion
In small words
That I see
All I need to know
5 hour phone calls
I relish in
The way
I can still feel
Surprising me
Smile spreading
The forgotten heart

The Enigma

I look
At the places
That surround me
Some enhance
My understanding
Of things universal
Pieces euphonious
Art, the written word
Some define me
By their very existence
Their locus fixed
On various shelves
Representational vignettes and curios
Some serve as instructional materials
Lessons on who or what
I no longer wish to embody
The antithesis of love
And enlightenment
All have meaning
Some purpose
But you are
A mystery to me
A beautiful enigma
Who brings all joy
And takes it with you
When you leave
Who helps me write
My reminiscences
In verse
Who resides in my thoughts
And sways my dreams
Whose presence in my life
Gives me such gratitude
Even as my voice
Quavers when speaking
Your name

A Different Kind of Plant

The small things
He does
Vines wrapping
Around my heart
I thought
No one
Would ever do
Jackets for my hair
Makes me a plate
When others would
Expect service
Asks me
What I want to watch
So many
Little things
I notice
I see
My other self
The she that can't conform
Likes a divergent reality
Would rather write
Than clean
He plays
Her devil's advocate
And she
And I
Find the 
Lush growth
Of trailing plants

The Presence

He still lingers here
A silent presence
Heart still skipping beats
In his absence
The thought of him
Always there
In all its forms
And fears
Of unrequited 
Sometimes breath
Escapes me
At the thought
That this 
Is only my
Mental construct
And he
Will always

The New World

In the past
I've been accused of being
Closed off
Retreating when I should advance
As I grow
This is changing
The space you've walked in to
Where I say too much
All thoughts are on the table
And I want to share
Is new territory for me
I'm desperately trying
Not to scorch the earth
With the heat
Of feeling

What I Never Said

I spoke
Or thought I did
Tree falling in the forest
With no one to listen 
But I swore I heard
The sound of my voice
Familiar vibrations
Same order
Also vainly spoken
Chest tight
Hesitant oceans
Sat in gray eyes
Held at bay
By pride
Or something like it
The last piece of self

The Lost Art of Touch

There is a deep pounding
Resonating from breasts
In those spaces
That lie 
At the pinnacle 
Between the thighs
The longing becoming
A constant ache
My mind preoccupied
With thoughts 
Of how touch felt
So many only want a love
Leaving all to imagination
And the fictions it creates
There is nothing like being touched
By hands that breathe feeling
And know how to caress
To feel the energy from them
Surge into you
With erotic intent
The soft
And not so soft
Words that escape 
With the passion
Of desire
Knowing they will make you
Forget all before

Dark Way

I want you
To take me
In some dark way
To places not yet seen
The craving leaving mouthwatering
Almost unable to bear
The want always there
Waking me
To the imagined feel 
Of him
A vivid thirst
Those things I want him to do 
To me
I him
Lingering in 
Those subaqueous places
And in mind
Between milky thighs
Wishes made 
In dreams
Fading as eyes close

Edge of Insanity

Seven months of longing
The want teasing
Pushing me up against walls
Kisses half passionate
Always restrained
Letting me know
A part of him wants me
Stares across rooms
A smack on the ass
A reach for those parts of me
I always want him to touch
I swollen 
Every time he's near
Heart in a thundering rhythm
When he touches me
Looks at me
In that way
I praying the game will end
The longing released
At last

Bottom of Form

First Time

A mind’s eye encounter
Sensual tango 
On soft sheathes of linen
A beginning forged 
From decades of longing
My mouth seeking 
Lingual familiarity
With the creamy canvas
Of his every surface
I learning the language
He speaks
In those spaces
His murmured breath
Orchestral motivation
To continue
Searching for his
Mystic self
The blithe discovery
Creating mouthwatering urge
A siphoning of all he is
Into me
He then entering
The houses of my being
The moment first inside
Whether gentle push
Or thrust
Sensation of first breath
Ever taken
An exhale long awaited
Ascension to ecstasy
And then sublime resolution

The Cannot Be

It came to me
As I was holding him
As I always do
These nights
When time is made
For exploring things
In my world
Unsure of what these temporal spaces are
In his
A sadness washed over me
Eyes welled
In that moment
The impervious nature
Of skin and bone
Came into crystalline view
I am not acidic
Have no sword in sheathe
That can cleave these things open
Leave them vulnerable
There is but one charm
I possess
But even that has been rendered
A shelved thing
That ordinarily makes these spaces
My domain
I am lost here though
In uncertainty
And perturbation
The seeking at an end
A resignation to the fact
That all will in fact
Stay nothing
In his view

Subconscious Turmoil

Dreams came to me last night
As always
About him
Far less direct
Than the usual ones
Where he finally 
Lets me touch
The parts of him
I long for
Those where I move over him
With lips
And tongue
Taking him inside me 
In all forms
Savoring his taste
No these were
About the feelings
Filling me to the point
Of overflowing
My needs
All I want to show
And tell him
Poured over him
Touching all those places
I can't reach
I am instead
Feigning indifference
While my subconscious
Is pinning tiny
Teddy bears
To the wall

The Wait

So it is
That maddening longing
I feel
Every time he touches me
Or looks into my eyes
I want to feel
Every part of him
With every part of me
He knows this 
Teases me with glances
Pushes me against the wall
Only to stop
Leaving me breathless
Every night
In dreams I have him
But he leaves me waiting
In reality
My want is for him alone
And cannot be satiated
By any other
So as long as it takes
I will mark time
With myself
Until our time


You came up behind me
A momentary dry hump
Slow purposeful
Flashback to our days
As teenagers
On my bedroom floor
Wanted you inside me
More than anything
Before anyone
Except this time
I know what to do
Back arched
As I reach back for you
Blushing like a teenager still
I pulsing
Flooded for you
You back away
Stop before we start
I want you more now
Than I've ever wanted
And so I wait


Sleep eludes me
Thoughts on you
As always
In your absence
Solace only found
In your smell
The feel of your skin
The rhythm of your breath
My new lullaby
It's uncertain duration
Lessens the potency
Of its torpor
But I long
For it

The Other Woman

I am the secret
No one wants to keep
The other woman
In so many forms
Never given
A place
Of any import
In the houses I have visited
Guest room occupant
At best
Despite the love I give
Maybe it indulges
Some whim
To break
The proud
Watch eyes redden
Well over
Perhaps pleasure derived
In wounding
A sublime creature
Though fragmented
Worn through
To bone
I won't abide
Thousands of tears
Will be choked back 
Dwelling only in
My resistance
To becoming
Another lingering

Lost Feeling

Stone stomached
The palpable ache
Of all I've never felt
Hidden somewhere
Words never given
A need
Never articulated
Left alone in the corner
Of circular rooms
In the house
Where self was defined
Now the search
For what I've never had
Seems unending...

Mystery of Ages

Let me take your breath
Into mine
Alchemic mixture
The solving of a riddle
Mystery of ages

Dumbfounded by Life

There are
A myriad of lessons
I'm sure I'm supposed to glean
From the various situations
I find myself in
In this space
A want 
For someone I cannot have
The first and sole time
I find myself
In the position
Of the fool
A daughter who abandoned me
In every way imaginable
For love
And a need to be free
Of me
A phone drowned in coffee
Irreplaceable pictures 
And the moans of the heartbroken
Lost to electronic glitches
A body that refuses to do
Things I have to do
To make all things
And me
Trying to breathe in and out
Sorting lessons
Into boxes
A reckoning of my past sins
Coming to bear
Words I can't find
The definitions for

The Questions

Presentiments abound
Around the enigma
I cannot fathom
A slow simmer of potpourri
Creating jasmine breaths of vapor
Intoxicating senses
Always on the precipice
Of complete distraction
But past weaves it's brittle 
Moss colored threads
Into the silkened lilac of present
Gathering doubts
Around the bonfire of salacity
They dance with longing
In a grotesque display
I entreating stillness
Wanting only the warmth
Of its heat
To penetrate my being
Oblivious to their attempts
At diverting my assiduities
The enigma watching
What presage this promenade
May have for him


He is
The silkworm spinning thread
Around my heart
A gossamer tapestry
That blinds eye
And makes senses obsolete
Visions in the darkness
Myriad fantasies
Painted on the canvas
Of hope


I ran every reason I love you
Through my mind today
Twice yesterday
A lie I'm telling
Even now
Truth being it's always on my mind
Dressed in one guise
Or another
I always trying desperately to forget
Fear wants me to let it go
Along with the parts of me that know
There will be no reciprocity
That again I'll know pain
That loss will come
Some day when least expected
Dressed in the robes
Of what's best for me
Those hideous garments
I hate to see
The inevitable clothing
All relationships eventually

In the Here and Now

Living in present spaces
A joy found
Somewhere in the past
Brought forward in time
To the here 
And now
New breath
A lightness of heart
Previously unknown


To love
With a fierceness of heart
Underneath skin
Within spaces
To feel 
The fabric
Of time and space
Cease to matter
To touch
Expanses of skin
Mouth and fingers
Move in harmony
To hear
Their music
When he moves over me
And I him

Like I've Never Been Gone

The song
An old elixir
Played on vinyl
Melodic window
To things long past
A thousand emotions lost
In grooves
Holds infinite memories
A pining in some
Visceral breath of relief in others
Today a new memory
Written in wax like onyx
No less poignant
A near loss
Felt in euphonious tones
A vague ache
Scratch on the record
Interrupting lyrical sonance
Pennies spent
On a child's candy
Or lost between cushions
Leaving the ending

The Invention of Want

It wasn't me
Who placed liquid forgetting
Into burnished containers
The type that catches eye
The enigma of its contents
Becoming frenzied need
Passions I succumbed to
All too often
Long ago
Filling holes with those things
That only make them chasms
Other things
Have shiny wrappers
Making the need burn
Mouth deliquescent
Spills over edges
Even when
And evolutionary necessity
Has been removed
Unexplained exigency
A needed release
Cistern hungering for
The wrapping now
A want specific
Singular source


It isn't only in words
That I find
But in those things
Tangible only to me
In small kindnesses
In open doors
Organizing the chaos
Small clean corners
Appreciation given freely
Those things
Done without thought
That solidify a place
In mine


The things I want
Don't come in boxes tied
With silken bows
Don't break bank
Or back
Can't be found 
In any store
Marked down
Or made more affordable
It would come
From some distance
In a smallish black car
Wrapped in a sweater
Jeans or shorts
Then unwrapped


There are parts of me
I want to show
I want known
By him
I hold them close now
Pretending they don't exist
Hidden beneath 
A jovial smile
Lyrical sonance
Thinking always 
Of how to acquaint him
With the rest
Of me
Those parts
Not suited
For prime time
But long to share with him
As they may be
By best sides

Like Butter

Butter left out
So it could be spread
Over toast
So the bread
Won't break
I try to remember
To leave it out of the fridge
Where it's cold
And dark
And the air
Has been suffocated
By the purposeful vacuum
Try to remain
Easily moved
But retain
The shape 
It was intended
To have

Anatomy of a Heartbreak

Love starts the same way
A fascination with colors
Pounding in the chest
With the resonance 
Of a voice
Aching to see
Even a ringtone
Brings familiar joy
But often best
Is not enough
There is always a want
For a greener grass
Your garden lacks
That cannot
Will not
An end
Whose taste
Is always bitter
Crushes the remains
Of what has already been

A Fear of Medication

There is
A jagged little pill
That I need to swallow
I've been staring at it
For weeks now
Seems bigger
But I know the size 
Is the same
Perception of it changes
As days pass
Sometimes it seems
It will pass easily
And won't tear at my insides
Other times
I know the tears will flow
As it goes down
Reaching the pit if my stomach
There it will sit
And involuntary anorexia
Will set in
Maybe indefinitely
But pass it must
Not today
Probably not tomorrow
But soon
I can't live with the fear
Of it
Can I?

A Skull Left Untouched

His skull
Left untouched
By hands
That think
Ignoring the symbols
Of death
Will somehow
An immortality
A precarious seat
Near the Masters throne
Given only to those
Who worship
In ways prescribed
By a preachers will to power
But our passage
Over the river Styx
Is guaranteed
For all of us
Jannah awaits 
For some
All whose intentions are pure
Swarga loka
For Devatas
And for many
Only ashes
And dust
But whether she touches his skull
Or not
She too
Will see
Hades' shores
And death 
Will smile

Waking up

Movements on the floor
Making my subconscious
Aware of him
Full consciousness
The sound
Of his ringing notes
Weaving around my ears
My heart
Bringing joy

The Presence

He still lingers here
A silent presence
Heart still skipping beats
In his absence
The thought of him
Always there
In all its forms
And fears
Of unrequited 
Sometimes breath
Escapes me

Eye Strain

Melting into air
Form of feeling
Things are 
For me
Strength of emotion
Overpowers the senses
Swirls around him
I try to see through
The mist
To look beyond
But the shapes
Only becomes
More difficult to see
So I'll bide time
The quiet joys
In anticipation
Of clarity

Lost in Duality

Fills breast
Exists hesitantly
Uncontrolled movement
Dubious response
Eyes light
On the want
Uneasy feeling
Synchronous irony
With complete 
A duality
Whose origins
Have always been
Will be
Of humanity
Dependent on
The inherent


Measure my words
By inches
Too long
And lay vulnerable
To chance and whim
And the consequence
Means taste of loss
Of a kind
That sours the tongue
Makes eyes water
I tread carefully
Measure with tape
How far I can go
Pray for accuracy
The thin line
A fisherman's thread
I can never

It begin


Small nagging whisper
At first easily dismissed
Notes on the wind
Then it finds its voice
Becomes surer of itself
Of my need for it
It's tenderness of embrace
Becomes a crescendo
Fully orchestrated
Peace found
In the vibrations


The step
Is different this time
Simultaneous and passionate repelling
And joining
Uncertain of outcome
And purpose
Effortless flow
As if we've done this together
Our whole lives
Our very feet
Don't exist
We are
Some blending
Of this
While some type of
Guitar instrumental hybrid
Moves the motion along
A birthing
Of something

Breath and a Scream

Had an experience
Like a first breath
Cutting square pegs
To fit round holes
Sapling peeking out 
from a seed
Latent nature 
Not lost on me
But here it is
Beautiful imperfection
Buzzing in my head
Beats skipped
Inexact timing
Making me smile
Shake of the head
Then resignation
Growth demands
The reimagining
New definitions
Old words on so many
Yellowed sheets of paper
Losing relevance
Pencil scribblings
New permanence
In electronic 
Hoping some things
Will last


My sentimentality
Slipped away
Long ago
Found the memories
Stung less 
Without resonant atoms of energy
To bind me back
To the pain
So many discarded tokens, pictures, gifts
I no longer remember their shape
Or form
And over time
Images have become less clear
As they all dissolve
Not an action
Born of spite
The necessity of sanity
Bone deep wounds
Leaving scars too deep
For any salve to completely erase
Always persisting
Holding back my words
Want uninhibited thought
I feel it coming now
Slowly though
And have started collecting

The Nature of a Thing

These feelings
Are foreign to me
The anticipation
Of him
Something I haven't known
Since before
I knew 
How it felt
To be touched
Thoughts of him
Course through me
Feel him
In fibers of being
Long wounded
And cauterized
Thought deadened
Abandoning me
The oil and water
Of fear and love
Dancing in the vase

A Day Unthinking

The want
Crept up behind me
This morning
As I put on the face
I show to the world
Left me
Day's propulsion became
Solely instinct
Reminded me
Of sentiments 
Left unseen
The side of me 
I want him to know
Tactile emotion
Poured all over
Glances left unguarded
The question
Of what I feel

Happenings in the Rain

Euphoric tears fell
From the eyes of the Gods
Steam rising
From the heated asphalt
My favorite accomplice
Bringing amorous cachinnations
From within
Feet soaked
All places really
In the deluge
Of their unique creation
Smell of sage sealing 
Precious reminiscence
Of him
Onto permanent

A Rainy Nights Musings

It is here
In the dim
Rain stroking earth
Sunshower stroking mind
Music lilting
Reaffirming belief
That all happens as it should
In the comfort
His breath gives
As he lies next to me
Fear still finds me
The reassurance of song
I wonder aloud
To the silence
Who I am
To him

Lamb to the Slaughter

She is the lamb
To be sacrificed to the ego
Of men
So they come
Lined around blocks
Dick pics instead of flowers
They seek a meeting
With the one who sees
The best in each
Despite their catalogs
Of sin
And failings
They each take their turn
Trying to see what
Can be taken from her
And she gives
Each time a little less of her heart
The vessel almost empty 
She struggles to have enough
To give to the only one
Who's given to her


All words spoken 
Are meaningless breaths
Carried away
On screeching winds
Aura seems to be
Running amok
Carrying some kind of future intent
Before me
No matter how loud
I shout
The words cannot be heard
Over the sonance
Of energies
Perhaps they are more aware
Of what it is I feel
Than my conscious mind
Will allow
Giving away
My position
To the opposition
A situation
I'm unsure
How to remedy


It is sublime
The looks dispensed
In my direction
When I feel eyes
Move over me
When my gaze catches 
And goes through me
Someone hits blend
In my soul
Thoughts become
A mixture
Disparate parts no longer seen
For their individual attributes
Disconsolate situation
Gains irrelevancy
And all the mixture bears
Is the adulation
I feel

Hanging in

Sadness written
In reddened eyes
Lyrical rejection
Still weighing on the heart
Hear words
Shrieking and violent
From pen
Try to unhear
But no matter the words
The heart stays 
Stubbornly set
On the want
Mind tries
To convince
It not to flutter
When I see him
Hear his voice
But fingers are firmly set
In the ears
Simultaneous shout of
La la la
From the instrument
Inside my chest
That burns
But won't let go
Of him

Fine points

Fine points
Where they can be felt
That uncomfortable poke
Directing you
To the room
You occupy
The underestimation
Of feeling
That place you there
Tangible disappointment
Scaramouche costume
Hanging in the corner
If it will fit
Any better
This time

Oxymoronic Love

He doesn't shower
For three days
But all I smell
Is aromatic incense
An intoxicating scent
A fact I 
And he finds
When he plays
All I hear
Are transcendent refrains
Though I'm sure 
All he strums
Surely cannot be 
Or is it?
We speak
For hours 
Each day
Every utterance
Endears my heart
More to him
How can boredom not find me
His brushstrokes
Sheer perfection
To my eyes
He says
I'll see spatter
These oxymoron’s
He says
Are loves intoxicant
That will wear off
With time
Or anger
I’m sure he shakes his head now
His eyes rolling
Semi permanently
Into the back of his head
At the seeming improbability
That any of this
Could be more
Than bullshit
And perhaps
This is all
More thickly laid
Than even I can
It is
Much to my misfortune
That of the reader
And very likely his
All truer
Than I'd like to admit


And a second eye roll

Planting Flags

The word love
Like a flag
Placed in the soil
Of a conquered country
Brandished to keep some from leaving
Rationalization for others to vacate the heart 
That feels
Resisting the stab
Of the pole
It is a flag
I have never planted 
For long
Or the realization
Of infinite reasons
Why this
Or that
Doesn't merit pure feeling
I pulled out the stake
In times past
And searched for lands worthier
But all were barren
Finally the awareness
That emotional imperialism
Is just another mark
Of oppression 
And an acceptance of the things
That will not be

He Likes My Tacos

He likes my tacos
He must
Has asked for them
Three weeks in a row now
They are good
Homemade shells
And guac
A fair amount of love
Goes into them too
A dash of care
The four food groups
To nourish
The only thing
I know
Beyond a doubt
He likes about me
Never thought
I'd care so much
About what someone thought
Of my tacos

Qualms About Art

I should have noticed
All the paintings
At his first exhibit
Had breasts
In all of them
She was insulted
The older woman
From herself
My feminist mind
Works differently
Sees her waitress
Making a third of minimum wage
And the single mother
Scraping by
Because her feminine job
Is worth less than say
That of a welder
As the real issue
The sale of women
At wholesale prices
So much more relevant
To my eyes
Than getting upset over
A celebration
Of female form
Recognizing too
Her inherent devaluation
Of womanhood
In the desexualization
Of self

Tell Me How You Really Feel

The finely sharpened points 
Of feelings
Let us know 
What our worldly
Spaces are
Urgent messages
Telling us
We are
In fact
Just a piece of dust
In a sandstorm
Our presence
Easily wiped away
When the winds
Come to rest


A melancholy has settled
Into and through bone
Feel it's fatigue
To the core of being
A knowing
That things are
Not what they would
Or could be
A restlessness of soul
Creating an agitation
That needs sweet

The Chance

I have laid bare a soul
Too raw
To be picked apart
The sharing of emotions
Spoken in an untimely fashion
A demonstration
A chance taken
And lost
A lesson
That will not soon
Be forgotten
To love always
Is to lose


I am not
All he wants
The pinholes of self
Chasms he won't cross
The reality of who I am
Lacking the appeal
Of fantasy
As is the case
With most
Our expectations
Creating walls
That others cannot climb
I struggle
Then falter
But know
Who I am
Will never compete
With the fictions
His beautiful mind


Leagues under the sea
They dwell with me
No words pass between us
Just glances
I try to show only the love I feel
In my gaze
But the pressure here
Must give an urgency
To my glances
That I am unaware of
But slowly
Through trial
Mostly error
I am learning to swim
And as I
I'll articulate my intentions
More succinctly
And perhaps
We'll learn
The lost art
Of the unselfish

When They Leave

You can feel it coming
A distance that spans
Miles between
The words that hang
On whips of cool air
The conversations
A rittle of discontent
You seek words to placate
Find ways to convince
Not to
Abandon what lies between
But coherent phrases become lost
In seas of resentment
things you cannot say
As you know
That the leaving is inevitable
Future frames in imagination
The choking silence
Their absence will bring
The presence
That once filled rooms
Conspicuously absent
But then the moment comes
When the growth begins
As you find out
Who you are
Without them
You begin to recognize
All things pass into shadow
And the gait of your being will change
New steps taken
Into the unknown

His Proxy

There is a space he occupies

I cannot fill


His specter the only thing

Really there

But no one else

Feels right

His position held

By some figment of him

Or another

Unsure if it's just imagination

Or if there is some solid quality

To his proxy

But I feel it

When I look in someone else's eyes

Or try to speak sweetly

It is there

Filling voice


The welling discomfort

That reminds me

It's not him

The immediate disappointment

In all others

No matter how they are situated

The sinking heart

Not allowing

Anyone else

To be enough

The Spot

It itches
This spot
That won't seem to go away
I've tried creams
The advice of books
On how to make it
Go away
It won't
Usually I'm pretty good
About making my own salve
Or praying it gone
Well that worked in the past anyway
But this one
Will not
I am completely baffled
Guess I have to make peace
With the fact
That this particular tickle
Is going to last
At least for a while


It was a feeling
Surfacing from a place
Whose existence
Was unknown to me
I played with it in prose
For a space in time
Musing at its shape
Feeling it's contours
Roll off
And pen
Now I sit in repose
Letting it be what it is
My hands
At rest
It another piece
The becoming

Life’s Breath

There are times
When something
Or someone
Exhales a rescuing breath
To your life
A surge of energies
Flowing into
And through you
Giving all music
A rich tone
That consumes all spaces
Making all interpretations
Of visual artistry
Fraught with optimism
And hope
Drawing out emotions
Deep and long for forgotten
In every piece
Of written word
And even while experience
Whispers to you
The finite nature of things
You hold on to
The priceless gift
As long as you can
Knowing that tomorrow
Is always truly
Another day

The Rules

I don't wait for calls
Or anything else
For that matter
I don't tolerate ambiguity
Or long pauses to think
If you don't know
How you feel now
Then I'm not waiting for you
To figure it out
I don't tell anyone how I feel
You might as well
Be begging for pain
If you do that
I don't call
Unless I need something clarified
Never just to hear someone's voice
Or to wait for the next time
He makes me laugh
That's the ridiculous
Of schoolgirls
I don't hold anyone to heart
Without the certainty
Of being held in theirs
Why would you devote
Emotional energy
Into useless endeavors
After all
I don't wake up early
Or go to bed late
Or change plans
For anyone
They have to adjust themselves
To my schedule
And I never
Tell someone I love them
Just because it's true

But as with all things
The universe displays
Its absolute sway
In all things
And often places
The exception to your rules
In your path
That one person
With winds
Only slightly weaker
Than funnel clouds
Who blows the paper
Your "rules" are neatly ascribed upon
Across the spaces
That were always so completely
Under your control
So you can experience
At least once
What it feels like
To be another way
To let the titanium grip of pride
Even slightly
You bending to the will
Of all things we cannot see
And allowing yourself to be taken
By moments that will never
Come again
To speak your truth
Knowing that endings
Are most often
Not happy
A softening of heart
An end at least once
To the game of chess
We all play
In matters
Of heart


The white hot longing
Has only grown more fierce
With the passage of time
The things I want
Shouldn't have
Reaching into dreams
The uneasiness
That only true desire
Can bring
Drumbeat sound
Of heart
Pounding at the thought
Of moments
That will never come
But still I wait
Bide time
Cast the spells
In hope of a vision


He came to me
In that space between life and death
The ironic ritual necessary for our survival
Together finding new avenues
Of communication between us
A metropolis previously unexplored
The long winding streets of our selves
Unraveling before us
All lights green
And pavement empty
Of all things that might hinder
The journey
The silence that should have made us uneasy
Spurring us forward
As we came to know each other
In languages that only the broken can speak
To one another

The Tie

A single thread woven through
And around the heart
One that binds mine
To his
A silver line
We follow down a narrow path
Shared fear
Of the unknown
Steps forward
Then ground lost
To memory
Or something more
I cannot define
A forward progress
Made into some space
Whose boundaries
Are never certain

THE Question

When you love but know
It will never meet
The aching needs
You have
That the warmth you give
Will always be met
With a cold hand
And heart
What do you do?
Go mad
with need
Allowing yourself
To be the fool
In the eyes of all
And self?
Still the restless soul
For hearts
And minds
To change?
Or do you let it blow away
On the winds
Of the never was
Remembering always
That there are things
That simply
Cannot be changed

A Park's Musings

At the park
Autumn breeze filling lungs
The distracting sound
Of wind whispering
In your ear
Not enough to beguile the senses
From thoughts of happier times
The he
And the she
That not so long ago
Would accompany
This watchful mother
A ball tossed
The gossip of the day shared
Now I sit
They stewing
In some resentments
I have caused
I wondering how
To right the situation
Without giving in
To some unforgivable form
Wondering if indeed
It is better to be happy
Than right

The End

I loved you once
In a dream that was mine alone
My pulse quickening
At the sight of you
The name I longed to see
On my phone
Message received
Now I sit
In the Harley jacket
You wore
Smells of you
That only brings sadness now
Because your words began to echo
With frustration and anger
Whenever spoken
To me
Your discontent
Becoming mine
Your past weaving in
And choking out
Our present
An anger misdirected
That you cannot see
Now a sorrow mine alone
To bear
My absence now
A blessing
And this message too
Has been received

The Lingering

I have lingered too long
In a space
Where I was accepted
To begin with
Spent proving my worth
The futile exercises
Done with the best of intent
Bringing only anger
Coat across my shoulders now
A good bye given
Far after it should have been


She loved him
Tried to warm him
In the sunlight of her spirit
But her rays
Seemed too cold
For him
He finding
The specs of dust within
An irritant
She coming to the painful realization
That her radiance
Could never reach the soul
Of one
Who is afraid
Of the light

The Gypsy

My gypsy heart
Bags packed
Dancing to the music
Of ages
Songs of leaving
The tunes inaudible
To all but her
The twirling away
From the despair
Only love can bring
The unsure steps
Of the unknown
So many imprints
In the dust
The paths it treads
Always leading
To somewhere

The Walk

The long walk uphill
Is a struggle constant
And disheartening
I swing at thin air
As I walk
Fighting a futile battle
With all the demons
In his past
And mine
They float around
Through us
He at the foot of the mound
A seeming indifference
To the fray
I look behind
Beginning to wonder
If he welcomes the loss
Of someone who's humanity
Seems so burdensome
To him

English Class

I am 
The dangling participle
A subject
In his unreadable eyes
Those hazel windows
I long to see through
Remain closed to me
I want to ask
Who I am
In his world
But the answer
And fear
Of his absence
Paralyzes my tongue
I have
So many questions
I am his English teacher's
Red mark
Awaiting his

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